“You don’t want to do that,” I mumble, wishing I didn’t have to think or fear or know.
“Darlin’, if you could see inside my head, you wouldn’t doubt it. You’d see. You’d see just how much I do want to do that.”
“Not everyone is Hollywood perfect.”
At that, Rogan stills. With his lips pressed to my pulse and his palm pressed to the swell of my breast, he stops for a second and then raises his head. “There’s no such thing as perfect. Everyone has flaws.”
I’m glad he can’t see the sad smile I offer. “Some worse than others.”
Rogan brings his hands back to my face, his thumbs drawing soothing arcs over my cheekbones. “Show me your worst. It won’t matter. I’ll want you anyway.”
Lies. He can’t possibly know that. Because he can’t possibly know me.
Reality rushes in and the spell is broken. All too soon, I’m reminded that this was just one moment in time. Perfect yet fleeting, which is all it can ever be for someone like me. In the harsh light of actuality, nothing has changed. Not from today or yesterday or two weeks ago. Rogan is still a star and I’m still a ruin.
I take a step back, lowering my face and pulling my hair back around to its customary place, hiding behind the thick wave like I’ve done for so long. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. I think you’ve got this scene mastered.”
Although he lets me go, Rogan is still too close for my peace of mind. When he speaks, I can smell his sweet breath, a mixture of wine and something that’s just Rogan. “I’ll let you go. For tonight. I think I could still use a little more help, though. I can’t screw it up again Monday. One more night oughta do it. Two at the most.” Even in the dark, I can see the white glint of his teeth between his spread lips.
Holy crap, that smile! It starts back to work immediately, weakening my resolve.
“What if I have plans?”
“Do you?”
I hedge. I’m always hedging with him, it seems. “I’m not sure yet. But I’ll let you know.” It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him, so I stall until I can. Until I’ve been away from him long enough for my brain to clear. Until I can think past the fog of his closeness.
“Just give me a call. Or come by. I’ll be here. Waiting.”
My lips want to smile. My blood wants to sing. My heart wants to soar. But there, in the background, is dread. And sadness. That’s why I can’t let him see how I feel. No one else can know that, least of all Rogan.
I give him a nod and take another step back, hiding. I’m always hiding.
“Now, for the return ride on the Death Machine,” I say, hoping to put things on a more casual level.
Rogan laughs. “It’s better you think of it that way.”
“Why?” I ask. I’d rather talk than focus on the way it feels when he takes my hand to lead me inside, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Because you’d blush a thousand shades of red if you knew how I see it. With you on the back. Those legs of yours wrapped around my waist . . . I call it something else.”
Heat rushes to my core. His words, the sexy lilt to his voice, the picture that he paints . . . I can fill in the blanks. All too clearly.
“Maybe you should’ve picked me up in the minivan, then.”
“You don’t even want to know what I’ve thought of doing to you in that back of that thing.”
I feel my mouth twitch in amusement. “Is that all you think about?”
“No.” He stops to look down at me, his sparkling green eyes luring me in again. “I think about the way your eyes start to look haunted when you think no one is watching. I think about the way you try not to smile when someone is watching. I think about the way you lick the corner of your mouth when you concentrate and how you lose yourself in your work.”
“What?” Knowing that he watches me that closely makes me nervous, but it also makes me feel like laughing. And singing. And twirling.
“You think I don’t see you, don’t you? But I do. I see you. I could watch you and see you all day and never get tired of it.”
“You’d be bored in no time.” I laugh. It bubbles out before I can stop it. It warms me all the way to my toes to know that he pays such close attention to my mannerisms, to my habits. To me. “What else?”
“I think about the way you try to disappear. And how much I don’t want you to.”
As if giving credence to his words, I duck my chin and reach for my hair, teasing the edges, drawing solace from its presence like a reassuring talisman.
Rogan’s sigh is so slight I almost don’t hear it. But I feel it, like the empty space in a dark room. You can’t see that it’s there, but you can somehow feel it. “Will you ever let me in?”
As though he knows what my response will be, Rogan shakes his head and pulls me forward again, tugging me through the glass doors into the living room, walking me silently back out to his motorcycle.
EIGHTEEN
Rogan
I’ve got a rip-roaring case of blue balls. I took a shower after I dropped Katie off. Got all hot and soapy, thought about that lush little body of hers and how she pressed her tits to my chest when I kissed her. Thought I’d remove the poisons from the building, if you know what I mean. No dice. I get the feeling only one thing’s gonna take care of my . . . problem. And I’m far from cracking that nut.
Shit.
I hit the pulse button on the blender, gritting my teeth as if I’m actually pulverizing the fruits, vegetables and whey. When the mixture is nothing more than a foul-looking goop, I pour it into a glass and start chugging.
“Did you save any for me, asshole?”
Kurt.
I’m not in the mood for his attitude this morning.
“There’s a little left,” I reply mildly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Help yourself.” I can’t bring myself to baby his belligerent ass this morning.
“You don’t have to be a dick,” he snips, grazing my hand with his shoulder as he wheels by me.
“I wasn’t being a dick. That’s your thing, not mine.”
Rather than jerking around toward me, ready to fight, Kurt turns a smug look my way. “Katie didn’t seem to mind.”
“What the hell was that, by the way?”
I’m glad he brought it up so I didn’t have to.
“What do you mean? Does it bother you that she flirted with your crippled younger brother?”
“She didn’t flirt with you, dude. She was just being nice. That’s the way she is.”
Although I’m nonchalant about his claim, a stab of jealousy rockets through me. Katie did seem more natural, more relaxed, even smiled more when she interacted with Kurt. That shouldn’t piss me off. I mean, he is my crippled brother. I should be happy for him if he could find someone to love and to love him.
Just not Katie.
Evidently I’m not that good of a person. At least not where she’s concerned.
“Keep telling yourself that, man.” Kurt clucks, smacking the side of the blender to get out the last of the smoothie. I could help him. But I don’t. Because, like all Rogan men, sometimes I can be an asshole.
I take a swim after my workout, pushing myself harder than usual. There’s a bug up my ass and I’m determined to drown it in endorphins. Unfortunately, they’re not even strong enough to do the trick. After a shower and lunch, I’m still antsy. I’ve glanced at the clock a hundred times. The minutes aren’t passing swiftly enough. What I really want is to see Katie. Only she hasn’t called.
I thought of surprising her this morning. I considered it again this afternoon, but I know I can’t push her. She’s obviously had some kind of bad experience, likely with a guy, that’s made her gun-shy, and the worst possible thing I could do is press her too hard, too fast. But it’s frustrating as shit to go so slow when I find myself thinking about her all the time, wondering what she’s thinking and what I could do or say to make her smile.