Chapter 10
Davis
Sophie wrapped her arms around me for the ride back to the house, and it was all I could do to hold back a whimper as her warm curves snuggled behind me. A very manly whimper, of course. Really, more of a grunt.
The more time I spent with Sophie, the harder she was to resist. But I had to try. Hooking up with her would only end in heartache.
My relationships were few and far between, and usually painfully short.
I'd get busy with work and forget to text or call and inevitably piss off the woman I was dating.
Or we'd go out, and I'd be in a mood and things would end badly.
Just because I couldn't stop thinking about Sophie didn't mean things would be different. They'd probably be much worse.
If I screwed up with her, I'd still have to see her every week at the farm. Jo’s disapproval would be a drop in the bucket compared to the pain of being left in the cold by Sophie.
She brought life and warmth everywhere she went.
Her laughter, her teasing, her attempts to bring me out of my shell – I was becoming addicted.
Now that I knew how she tasted, had heard her tiny moans of approval as we kissed, even hearing her laughter floating down the hallway would be like taking a knife to the heart. She’d be just out of reach, yet always around. A recipe for agony if ever there was one.
I parked the quad under the small carport designed for that purpose, and Sophie slid from behind me with a quiet “good night.”
I followed her inside, wanting to prolong my time with her. "How about some tea?"
The rusty offer sounded foreign to my own ears, but Sophie looked pleased by my invitation.
"Sure, that sounds great." She rubbed her arms. "It was chilly tonight.
"I don't know why y'all insist on hanging around outside year-round," I grumbled. "You're lucky you don't catch nasty colds."
She shook her head ruefully, following me into the kitchen. "If anything, spending time together outside lets us keep germs to a minimum. Plenty of fresh air. Besides, my immune system is amazing."
"That's a weird flex."
Sophie grinned. "It's one of my teaching superpowers. I never get sick."
"Maybe because you spend so much time around your little germ factories," I muttered, lighting the stove for the kettle.
I leaned back against the counter, eyes narrowing. Sophie limped as she walked the couple of steps to the kitchen table. Her face relaxed as she slid into a chair, and I frowned. I pulled an ice pack from my freezer, dropping it on the table in front of her. "Here."
"Thanks."
"Chamomile okay?"
Was it my imagination that her lips twitched?
"Something funny 'bout that?"
Sophie sobered. "Nope. Thanks, Davis."
I pivoted, focusing on measuring out the tea into my pot, ready to steep when the water boiled. Keeping my hands busy lessened the temptation. I shook my head. Who was I kidding? Sophie was going to tempt me no matter what. My helplessness soured my mood.
"What are you sulking about?"
Sophie's soft question made me scowl. I pivoted from staring at the kettle to frown at her.
"Men don't sulk."
"Bullshirt."
"We brood," I claimed.
"Oh, honey, no. Sweetie, didn’t anyone tell you? Those are synonyms." The syrupy pity in her expression made me snort.
The kettle whistled, and I poured, grateful for the momentary escape.
"You didn't answer my question," Sophie said. "What are you sulking about?"
Everything in me ached to escape. I debated sliding her mug across the table and retreating to my room. But it would be cowardly, and Sophie would call me on it. As much as I didn't want to share, I also didn't want to disappoint her. I took my time pouring our tea before joining her at the table.
I paused, staring at the graceful arch of her brows, the way her dark hair swept across her chin. The ruddy pink in her cheeks hinted at her evening outdoors.
"Sometimes we want what we can't have," I finally answered. It was as close to a confession as I was willing to give.
Sophie toyed with her mug, tracing the litter of kittens that frolicked across the ceramic in a playful tumble. Slowly, her gaze rose to mine, her brown eyes dark with something I couldn't name.
"That can be true," she admitted, watching me carefully.
"I can't control if I win the lottery." Her mouth turned down.
"Or, apparently, if I crash my balloon." Her gaze lifted back to mine.
"But I can reach for what I want. You miss all the chances you don't take.
I don't want to let fear of failure hold me back from the good things in life.
" She sipped at her mug, smiling wryly. “And maybe if I tell myself that enough, I’ll begin to believe it.”
I sipped at my tea, considering her words. Judging by the way the air crackled, sex between us would not just be good, but possibly one of the most epic things in life. But if I was wrong?
"Failure can be expensive. Not trying is cheap."
Sophie tilted her head as if considering my words. "True, but sometimes you get what you pay for."
Her point made, she sipped at her tea.
Waiting.
She studied me, lingering on my eyes, my mouth, my hands, making me feel exposed. The heated invitation in her gaze was clear: she wanted what I wasn’t yet offering. But I was damned close.
Holding her earlier at the fire pit had set me on edge, leaving me wanting nothing more than to make her mine.
Slowly eroding my good sense and all of the reasons I shouldn’t indulge.
Visions of taking her by the fire had sent a pounding pulse to my groin that was difficult to ignore.
I wanted to lick the salty remains of her desire from her skin, plunge into her until we were both satiated, boneless with contentment.
Losing myself in her would feel so good, if only it didn’t also make me risk losing my head.
The moment of challenge between us stretched, my pulse swelling beneath my skin, like a second more of her attention, and I'd burst from the chains of my control. Go after what I wanted ruthlessly. Did she have any idea that she was baiting a bear?
I shifted in my seat, as if that would ease the tension.
The Sophie I thought I knew would have broken immediately, chattering away about the first thing that came to mind.
Her silence made me nervous. Usually, I could count on Sophie to break the ice and set the tone.
But the woman in front of me seemed to sense that something bigger was in play.
Did I trust her to accept me as I was, or would she grow frustrated when I screwed up?
Messing up was in my DNA.
My track record spoke for itself.
I gulped my tea, wishing the chamomile could erase my uncomfortable feelings. I drained my cup.
"Speaking of paying for things, I've got to get some sleep, or I'll be paying for it tomorrow. 'Night, Sophie."
I kept my tone gentle, but the disappointment flashing across her face still made me want to call the words back.
Sophie was brave. Braver in ways I'd never given her credit for.
But I couldn't help my cowardly impulses.
They'd kept me safe. Taking a chance on Sophie Dunham would likely lead to disaster.
We'd already had more than enough of those for one week.