Page 74 of The Rebel Heir

He rounded on her. “Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me first? Or rip off my clothes and claw the crap out of me?”

Her pulse zipped through her body, going straight to the instant heat between her legs. A half-cocked smile spread across his lips. Could he tell that she was turned on by what he’d said? His security training made him a bit of an expert in that regard. He was good at reading people’s emotions. Of course, he used to say that she was sometimes hard to gauge. A fact that both challenged and perplexed him.

She lifted her chin. “I never should’ve had an affair with you.”

He stared her down. “Yeah, well, it’s too late. You already did.”

He didn’t immediately leave like he was supposed to. He stayed put, keeping her hanging on by a thread. There was no way she was going to kiss him, or unclothe him, even if she wanted to. Idiot that she was, she would probably fantasize about him tonight: sighing, moaning, touching herself.

“This isn’t fair,” she said.

“What isn’t? That you still want me? Or that I still want you? I wish I knew how to fix it.”

“Me, too. It would be nice if we could find a way to get past it without being so angry.” She searched his gaze, desperate for a solution. Neither of them should be suffering this way. “There’s got to be something we can do.” She studied him, her mind whirring. “Maybe we can try to be friends.”

“Friends?” he parroted.

“Yes, you know. A platonic relationship between people who are supposed to like each other.”

“Do you like me, Margot?”

“Sometimes,” she replied honestly.

“I like you sometimes, too,” he said softly.

She always got a little woozy when he whispered. To combat the feeling, she squared her shoulders. “We can use that as our starting point.”

He looked worried, dragging a hand through his hair and spiking the short, thick strands.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She wasn’t any better at being his friend than he was at being hers. “But it’s got to be less stressful than fighting.” Or wanting each other, she thought. She needed to stomp out her hunger for him. To crush it to bits.

“I guess we can try. But how are we supposed to go about it?”

“I can come by your place on my way to the studio tomorrow morning and bring breakfast.” That seemed friendly enough. Plus, her mom was already scheduled to take Liam to school that day. Margot didn’t have to alter her routine to see Zeke. “We can figure out where to go from there. But I’ll be there really early, so don’t sleep in.”

“Do I ever?”

“No, I suppose not.” He was an early riser, a habit that had been formed from surfing. He used any excuse to hit the waves. Sometimes he even paddled out on moonlit nights.

He squinted. “I better go now, before we start arguing again and blow this whole deal.”

“Good call.” She agreed that it was safer for him to leave while they were on a positive note.

She walked him to the door, and the moment turned awkward. He leaned forward to hug her, but then he pulled back, as if it might not be a very platonic thing to do. In their case, he was right to keep his distance. She didn’t need to feel his big, broad body next to hers.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“You, too.” She watched him descend the steps and retreat to the town car waiting for him.

Was initiating a friendship with him the smartest course of action? She wasn’t altogether sure, but she’d already made the offer, and she was going to follow through.

No matter how difficult it proved to be.

Copyright © 2021 by Sheree Henry-WhiteFeather

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