20. Amias #2
Her eyes immediately lowered.
"Fucking hell, Naya," I groaned.
"I'm sorry. I…don't like confrontations. This is my way of…running away."
I lifted her chin to look at me. "Stop running from me."
"You most of all," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Because…I'm embarrassed. You know I had a…crush…and…."
I leaned in and brushed my lips against hers. She gasped and pulled back.
"Hayes thinks that the reason Ann went after you was because she could see I was attracted to you.
I thought about you a lot, and I thought it was…
." I couldn't say irritation; that would hurt her, and it was not the truth to boot.
I just didn't know what was inside me. I still didn't, not for certain.
"I watched you, Naya, as much as you watched me. "
"But you said?—"
"I know what I said. Can you forgive me for that?"
She looked at me now. "Why did you say it?"
"Because I'm an idiot?"
"Explain."
"I'm going to say some things now that won't sit right with you, and they don't with me either. But they're honest. I need you to not get upset and give me a chance to…ah…well, explain myself."
She folded her arms and leaned back on her chair. On anyone, it would be a sarcastic I'm waiting, asshole pose; in her case, it was an I'm afraid, so I'm holding myself together stance. I wish she'd let me hug her, but she was wound up too tight.
"I didn't think you were my type. So, I refused to admit that I noticed you or recognize that I wanted you, and," I put a finger on her lips so she would not speak, "that was because I'm a shallow motherfucker who has the self-awareness of a turnip.
When Ann said she wanted us to get engaged, my first thought was: fuck no.
So, for the first time in my life, I asked myself what exactly my type was. "
I took my finger off her lips. She took a deep breath. "Don't you dare insult my intelligence and tell me after some soul searching you found out I'm your type."
I smiled. "You say you're afraid of confrontation, but you challenge me just fine. At work, you did that professionally. In private situations, you have no problem telling me to go fuck myself."
"I've never said that to you," she gasped.
"Not in as many words. But when I tried to apologize for when Ann was rude to you, you didn't accept my apology and basically asked me to shove it where the sun doesn't shine.
Right now, you're happily telling me that if I tell you you're my type, I'm full of shit.
" I filled her glass and mine with more wine.
She seemed to consider what I said and then nodded. "I'm only like that with people I…."
"People, you what?"
She sighed. "People I trust. Like Darren and my father. I don't even do that with Nolan. Kara pushes my buttons and sometimes I say something but…I'm never rude. I don't want to be the kind of person who hurts others."
"Baby, you could never hurt anyone. There is too much good in you." I brushed my lips against hers.
"Can you please stop doing that?" she urged.
"Why?"
"Because…I'm not…we're not…."
I loved to see her flustered like this because then she wasn't looking away from me anymore; she wasn't staring at my shoes or hers; she was standing up to me, and it was fucking awesome.
"I thought about who my type was," I continued, stressing each word, "and found that it isn't a woman who's only good-looking.
I actually don't even think a lot of the women I dated were great-looking.
It wasn't women who were confident either.
Because I thought that's what I liked about Ann.
It wasn't even women who were smart because I've dated some…
well, let's just say some of the women I've been with were not the sharpest pencils in the box.
My type, I realized, was convenient. I dated and slept with women who didn't take up my time.
They didn't disrupt my life. They adjusted to my schedule. "
She cocked an eyebrow. "That's arrogant."
"Maybe. But these women were fine with it.
I thought that I didn't want a woman to change my life—what I didn't realize is that when I met the right woman, I would want to change my life.
I would want to make time for her because I enjoy it so much.
I would want to do things for her because it makes her smile. " I stroked her cheek with a finger.
"What else did you realize?" Her voice was low, breathless.
"My type is a woman who wants me, not Amias Westbrook, the youngest Westbrook or the CEO of Midas, or whatever the fuck else people think I am.
I want a woman to take my good, bad, and ugly—and still want me.
I want a woman who is kind. That's important for me because I don't want to have kids with a woman who is like my mother.
I want a woman who is generous with her heart and will take care of mine.
" I smiled at her and continued to touch her face, loving that she was letting me.
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.
"I don't like dressing up. I don't like what I'm wearing. I'm not comfortable with it. I…just…Darren got this for me last Christmas and said that I should wear it once I was done mourning my father, and…this is not me."
I sat back and pondered how what she said was connected to what I'd told her. Once I understood what she was trying to tell me in her own convoluted way, I replied, "Then put on something comfortable. I don't give a shit."
"But you think I have terrible fashion sense," she threw back at me.
"Ann has great fashion sense, and she's a complete bitch. Also, I don't give a fuck about what you wear or don't wear. You are what matters, not your clothes."
She rolled her eyes. "That sounds like a line coming from you. I don't believe you."
I smiled.
"What?" she demanded.
"For someone who doesn't like confrontation, you have no problem voicing your opinion to me. Is that because you trust me?"
She drank some wine and closed her eyes, shaking her head. She looked fucking adorable.
"I want to explore a relationship with you," I said huskily.
Her eyes snapped open. "Why?"
"For crying out loud, Naya, I just told you why."
"This is not how I normally look," she blasted.
"Change. Wear whatever the fuck you want. Don't ever wear a red dress again." I rose and held out my hand. "Come on, go change."
Her lips trembled, but she stood up and put her hand in mine. Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears.
"Hey, hey." I pulled her to me. "What did I say? Fuck. I hurt you. How? I'm so sorry, babe, I?—"
"It's not you," she cut in. "It's me. Me. When you say you want a relationship…you probably mean you want to have sex, right?"
"Yes…but we can wait, Naya. I don't intend to jump your bones right away."
She sighed. "That's not it. I mean, I'd love to have you jump my…no, what I'm saying is…."
I pulled her into my arms and leaned back so I could look at her. "You want to try that again?"
"You're not going to want to explore a relationship with me…not a sexual one. So, maybe we can be friends."
"Don't fucking friend zone me, Naya."
"What if I tell you that if you look at all of me, you won't want to have sex with me?"
I wondered if she'd talk about the accident Darren had mentioned, the scars Ann had told me about.
"I'm looking at you, and babe, I'm ready to go." I thrust my hips against her so she could feel what she did to me. "I've had a semi or full hard-on since I walked into your apartment."
"That's because of this stupid dress," she exclaimed.
I laughed. "No, it's you. How do you explain me having a hard-on while you're presenting in a meeting?"
"You did?"
"Yeah. Sometimes, I had to sit after everyone left so as to not embarrass myself."
She licked her lips, and I couldn't help myself and dropped a kiss on her mouth. I wanted desperately to kiss her, stick my tongue down her throat, but the way she was going on about how I would not want her when I saw her without her clothes on meant I had to take this slow.
"Fine. I…" she let out a trembling breath, "you have to see me naked."
"Not that I don't want to, but?—"
"Darren said that I had to let you see me naked, and then I'm sure you'll leave, and then maybe we can be friends."
"Is that what happened with Darren?" I asked, now angry with that asshole. "You were dating, and he?—"
"God no," she retorted. "We've always been friends. Only friends. And he's seen me naked, and it does nothing for him. Which I get. I've seen him naked, and he has one hell of a body, and it did nothing for me."
"Good to know," I murmured. She was fascinating. One minute, she sounded na?ve and the other, so confident. I wanted to peel all her layers and get to know everything about her.
She took my hand in hers. "Let's do this before the yule log. And…then you can decide what you want."
"Why don't you tell me first what you want? Are you attracted to me at all? Are you interested in a relationship? I have no idea how you feel, Naya, about me."
She gave me a confused look. "Are you blind?"
Yeah, not afraid to challenge me or confront me. She was nuts if she thought a few scars on her body were going to turn me off.
"You haven't said any fucking thing, Naya, except that when you were fifteen, you had a crush on me."
She slumped a little at that. "I…first we do naked, and then if…you know how I feel is going to be moot."
"Fine. Let's do it naked. Do I keep my clothes on, or should I take mine too?"
"Joke all you want, buddy, but you're going to eat your words."
"I'm hurt, Naya, that you don't want to see me naked, and you've seen Darren in the nude," I teased.
"Don't leave right away, okay? You'll want to, but promise you won't just walk out. Just let me get dressed, and we'll eat dessert, and then you can go. Okay? I couldn't stand it if…."
I rested my forehead against hers, wanting to tell her that would never happen, but she didn't trust anyone, and why should she? People had been shit to her.
"I promise," I breathed.