Chapter 8 #2
Because she enjoyed the challenge. Because she felt like Connor was meeting her eye-to-eye like no man before. Because he didn’t make decisions for her. Because adrenaline surged through her veins. Her lower abdomen tightened sweetly every time the rough fabric of his jeans slid over her bare skin.
“It’s your turn,” she replied, ignoring his question. “What’s your no-go?”
“I don’t have one.”
This time she smiled. “That’s not true. Your no-go is women who give up easily. Like Mel earlier.”
A jaw muscle poked out from under his rough stubble.
“Maybe,” he finally admitted tonelessly.
He was still looking at her, and she thought she could hear his gaze, as if his dilated pupils were smothering the gentle music, replacing it with the crackling that hung heavy in the air between them. Like a balloon about to burst.
“Why? Because you know you need a fighter? Because you’re complicated?”
Another muscle in his jaw twitched, but he still didn’t look away. He couldn’t retreat any more than she could.
“Or…can you just not accept it when people give up too easily? When they don’t bother to take chances?”
She heard him clench his teeth. Knowing she was probably right about both, she wondered if Connor would tell her to stop when it became too much for him.
But when his lips parted, he murmured, “You fight for people. Whether you know them or not. Whether you like them or not. You fight to give them the chance they deserve. You don’t just give up before you’ve even started.
You don’t just decide it’s not worth it.
You don’t just believe what you see and hear, and decide what’s right without considering others.
Without listening to their opinions. You give everyone a second chance, not just a thousand to one.
Anything else isn’t fair. And life is unfair enough that we humans can’t afford to emulate it. ”
His pupils were dilated. The heat in his gaze was palpable.
But he also seemed…uncertain. His expression wasn’t as firm and confident as usual, but so tense that she was afraid he might burst beneath a single touch.
It was as if he’d laid out his innermost, principled core to her — hoping she wouldn’t notice.
Yet it felt as if he’d just given her a brief glimpse into his soul.
Suddenly, she knew why he’d suggested the bet, why he was practically helping her uncover her flaws in her search for the perfect man. Why it wasn’t at all out of character. Why it was even in keeping with his character.
He didn’t believe in her questionnaire. Deep down, he thought Match Me! was bullshit. Still, he’d decided it was only fair to give her the chance to prove him wrong because everyone deserved to make their point, whether you liked them or not.
Why? Who had denied him his opportunities in life? Who had decided for him…and proven to him that the world was unfair?
“Okay,” she whispered. She didn’t press the issue, knowing it might upset him. “What’s the next question?”
“Question twenty-three,” he replied promptly, as if he’d been planning the following words since the beginning of their conversation but wanted them to sound natural now. “It’s about whether you want a quiet life or one full of adventure.”
“Quiet. I want a quiet life.”
Connor fell silent, and she felt his leg tense against hers.
His shoulder brushed hers as he turned to her, his warmth seeping into her skin.
She felt his gaze, felt it burning her cheek as he whispered, “Look into my eyes and swear on your sisters’ lives that you would rather have been lying on the couch than manipulating my date tonight. ”
She forced herself to look into his dark, far too sincere eyes. They were flecked with gold from the overhead light. She swallowed…and remained silent.
She’d spent a lot of time alone on the couch over the last few evenings — and hadn’t enjoyed a single second as much as she’d enjoyed every exciting moment of this evening.
“Exactly,” he replied darkly. “So, Rachel. I’m sitting here, and I should have been concentrating on my date, but instead, I’ve been asking myself the same question for an hour: Why the hell are you lying to yourself?
Why do you insist that you want men who will bore you?
What’s wrong with wanting more than peace and quiet?
I hate peace and quiet. I hate evenings alone.
I would never fall in love with a woman who doesn’t dare express her opinions in front of me.
Who always lets me make the decisions. So, why do you want to be the kind of person you’re not, damn it? ”
Her lips tingled. Her eyes burned. “I…I could use more peace and quiet, that’s all,” she whispered.
“A little more structure and order in my life. To get back to my old self. Because my new one is throwing everything into chaos and making one reckless decision after another. Is it wrong to want a man who can help me with that?”
“No,” he said bluntly. “But is that truly what you want? Or what you think the world expects of Perfect Rachel? Were you…happier when you had order and structure? Did you have fun when you were perfect?”
Happier…with friends who apparently only liked her because she was so uncomplicated. Who abandoned her when that changed. Having so much fun, always making the responsible decision. Not offending people. Making sure everyone was happy while she…she…
“That’s enough. I want to leave,” she whispered, looking away. It was too much. All of it…was making her uncomfortable.
No one had ever asked her those questions. She was the therapist. She asked the questions! She just had to find answers to other people’s problems.
Connor didn’t know her. He didn’t know…how could he…?
No. It was too much. The bench was too narrow and the air too thick.
Connor didn’t argue. He silently gestured to the waiter that they wanted the check. He gave him his credit card, murmuring that it was all on him. He didn’t press her for an answer, and he didn’t ask any other questions.
Because she’d told him to stop. He respected her decision.
He wasn’t insensitive, he simply didn’t assume responsibility for other people’s feelings and decisions.
A sinking feeling began to settle in her stomach, and as she studied his profile, she got the feeling that Connor Stone was a man who, while he liked to provoke, challenging others with every look and word…
would never cross a line she set. And for a moment, all she could think about was what this man would do if she didn’t give him any lines at all.
If she told him to do whatever the hell he wanted with her…
The night air had cooled by the time they left Galette. Or perhaps her skin was simply more heated than she wanted to admit. The wind blew and rustled the leaves of the surrounding palm trees, but it failed to clear her head or calm her stomach.
They stood before the restaurant’s plate-glass window, near a narrow alley that perhaps led to the back entrance of the building. It smelled of the sea and... Connor.
She looked at him from the side and studied him: his large, capable hands, the tight shirt, his strong neck, and his rough jaw.
Everything about him was attractive. Everything about him made her think of sex. His long fingers tapping his thigh. His thin lips, whether ridiculous things were being said or not. His sheer size and strength. How could a man’s body be so attractive while his personality aggravated her?
“Rachel.”
His voice alone gave her goosebumps. “Yes?”
“Did I make you angry? With my questions?”
“No,” she murmured, surprised at herself.
“Then why do you look angry?”
“I…” She swallowed and looked down. “I’m annoyed that the date went badly.”
“Because the guy wasn’t the love of your life?”
“No, because I could have used a fucking orgasm.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could consider that she’d only wanted to say that in her head.
Shit. It was Connor’s fault! His stupid shoulders, his voice, his looks…
She gritted her teeth and glanced up at him abruptly. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean…”
She fell silent because Connor was looking at her, his eyes an infinitely dark brown in the night, barely distinguishable from his pupils. His gaze slid over her face almost hungrily before he murmured, “As if that guy could have made you come.”
Heat filled her stomach. She didn’t know why she was saying what she was saying…
she only knew that maybe he was right, that she didn’t want a quiet life.
Not today. “I would have helped myself,” she said softly, licking her lips.
“I know exactly how to make myself come. But four hands are better than two.”
She saw him swallow. Watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall. His gaze slid down to her hands, his pupils dilated.
Her cheeks burned. She knew she was provoking him. That she was deliberately turning him on just to see if she could. She couldn’t help herself. “Are you imagining me helping myself?”
He looked away, his hands clenched at his sides. “For someone who said on the questionnaire that good conversation is more important than sex, you sure do think about it a lot.”
“Just because other things are more important to me doesn’t mean I don’t like sex.”
“Really? Because it did seem that way. You were saying that a relationship can survive without sex.”
“Yes.”
He laughed dryly. “Do you honestly believe that? That sex is so unimportant for intimacy in a relationship?”
“It’s not that relevant.”
“Is that why you listed your sexual preferences as normal?”
She swallowed hard. “You read thoroughly.”
Connor turned to her and looked her straight in the eyes. Only after she met his gaze did he whisper, “I’m thorough in everything I do, Rachel.”
Her heart skipped a beat as tiny bolts of lightning flashed down her bare back, even though Connor wasn’t touching her. It sounded like a threat. Or a promise.