Page 6 of Never Date A Player
“Sure. Anytime.”
And just like that, the tension defuses.
To keep things light throughout the rest of the meal, I take the opportunity to pepper Nessa and Zach with questions about hiking and jogging trails. Mira doesn’t piss off anyone else at the table, mostly because she’s too busy nipping at Lewis in a heated conversation the rest of us pretend to ignore. I’m catching most of it, and I imagine the others do too. Things like what are you doing and private and that girl rise above our Tahoe trails discussion.
After the meal, I help Nessa clean up. “I should get going,” I tell her when we finish.
“Really? So soon?”
“I’m still adjusting to late work hours.”
“Yeah, that takes time. What are you doing tomorrow? Zach and I are barbecuing at Zephyr Cove. You and your roommate should totally come.”
“That sounds like fun.” I get the details from her and thank Zach for dinner.
Mira and Lewis are speaking in hushed whispers in the corner as I make my way to the bedroom down the hall for my purse and coat. I feel like I’m sneaking off, but I really don’t want to get in the middle of that.
I collect my things and round the bedroom door, head bent, digging for my keys in the pit that is my purse—and bounce off a wall.
I’m going down, and not in a pretty way. My body falls to the side, head at an odd angle, arms tangled in my purse. I’m going to break my neck.
Strong hands haul me up, and I scramble to get my legs vertical.
Heat and the scents of soap and fresh-cut wood hit me. Lightly tanned skin over a thick, muscular neck with a pulse pounding at the base is the first thing in my line of vision, Lewis’s intense, enigmatic gaze the next.
My heartbeat shifts from a startled gallop to the throbbing, fluttery mess it was when he first walked into the house.
Lewis’s eyes study my face, concerned at first, then they soften and relax. He slowly tracks more than just my eyes, as if he’s using the opportunity to take me in without censure from Mira or anyone else. His gaze drifts to my hair, my forehead, down the side of my face and chin, and back up to my mouth, where it snags.
His breaths grow shallow. What was perplexing in his expression all night becomes clear. When he looks at me, it’s not with curiosity—though that could be a part of it—but something else entirely. Something I can’t say I’ve seen to this degree but I recognize—or my body does, because my chest tightens, my heart continues its fluttering dance, and heat spirals down my spine, sending shivers to all the wrong places.
His head drops a fraction toward me.
What the…? He wouldn’t…
“It was nice to meet you,” I say in a panicked rush, and step out of his arms, which I realize I’m still holding onto. But that’s as far as I get. For some stupid reason, I can’t get my feet to walk away.
The hand that embraced me slips into his front pocket. Other than that, he doesn’t move. His gaze dips to my mouth again.
My breath hitches and I lick my lips, which suddenly seems like an invitation. What am I doing?
Instead of reacting appropriately and looking away, my eyes dart to his mouth as if on autopilot, not listening to my thorough instructions for all body parts to get the hell out of here.
A diagonal scar mars the corner of his lower, nicely shaped lip, a score in an otherwise perfect landscape. I can’t look away from that scar, feathering at one end into a slight hook. How did he get it? Did it hurt? Would I feel the scar if I pressed my mouth to his?
His lips part beneath my stare and he shifts his feet, closing the space I created.
My heart pumps so fast that dots form in my vision. He has a girlfriend.
I stumble around Lewis, my shoulder slamming into the wall as I make it down the hallway, years of athleticism disappearing with the speed of my heartbeat.
I glance back once before opening the front door. Lewis is staring after me, stunned.
He shuts his eyes and turns away.
My hands shake as I close the front door behind me. What was that? That’s not attraction, that’s just crazy.
Crazy attraction.
