Page 31 of For the Love of Lilah
“Too tiring.” But his words had a glow spreading around her heart. “It’s safe to say we’re friends then?”
“Safe enough.”
“That’s good.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I think it’s important for us to be friends before we’re lovers.”
He nearly fell off the rock. “Excuse me?”
“We both know we want to make love.” When he began to stammer she gave him a patient smile. She’d thought it through very carefully and was sure—well, nearly sure—this was right for both of them. “Relax, it isn’t a crime in this state.”
“Lilah, I realize I’ve been... that is, I know I’ve made advances.”
“Advances.” Desperately in love, she laid a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Max.”
“I’m not proud of my behavior,” he said stiffly, and had her hand sliding away. “I don’t want...” His tongue tied itself into knots.
The hurt was back, a combination of rejection and defeat she detested. “You don’t want to go to bed with me?”
Now his stomach was in knots, as well. “Of course I do. Any man—”
“I’m not talking about any man.” They were the poorest two words he could have chosen. It was him, only him she cared about. She needed to hear him say he wanted her, if nothing else. “Damn it, I’m talking about you and me, right here, right now.” Temper pushed her off the rock. “I want to know about your feelings. If I wanted to know how any man felt, I’d pick up the phone or drive into the village and ask any man.”
Keeping his seat, he considered her. “For someone who does most things slowly, you have a very quick temper.”
“Don’t use that professorial tone on me.”
It was his turn to smile. “I thought you liked it.”
“I changed my mind.” Because her own attitude confused her, she turned away to look out over the water. It was important to remain calm, she reminded herself. She was always able to remain calm effortlessly. “I know what you think of me,” she began.
“I don’t see how you can, when I’m far from sure myself.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Lilah, you’re a beautiful woman—”
She whirled back, eyes electric. “If you tell me that again, I swear, I’ll hit you.”
“What?” Completely baffled, he threw his hands up and rose. “Why? Good God, you’re frustrating.”
“That’s much better. I don’t want to hear that my hair’s the color of sunset, or that my eyes are like sea foam. I’ve heard all that. I don’t care about that.”
He began to think that being a monk, completely divorced from the mysterious female, had its advantages. “What do you want to hear?”
“I’m not going to tell you what I want to hear. If I do, then what’s the point?”
At wit’s end, he raked both hands through his hair. “The point is, I don’t know what the point is. One minute you’re telling me about sandwarts—”
“Sandwort,” she said between her teeth.
“Fine. We’re talking about flowers and friendship, and the next you’re asking me if I want to take you to bed. How am I supposed to react to that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”
He went on a mental search for safe ground and found none. “Look, I realize you’re used to having men...”
Her narrowed eyes glinted. “Having them what?”
If he was going to sink, Max decided, he might as well go down with a flourish. “Just shut up.” He grabbed her arms, dragged her hard against him and crushed his mouth to hers.
She could taste the frustration, the temper, the edgy passion. It seemed that what he was feeling was a reflection of her own emotions. For the first time, she struggled against him, fighting to hold back her response. And for the first time, he ignored the protest and demanded one.
His hand was in her billowing hair, pulling her head back so that he could plunder mindlessly. Her body was arched, straining away from him, but he locked her closer, so close even the wind couldn’t slip between them.
