He chuckled. “At what point will you stop needing liquid courage to speak to me?”
I struggled for a moment, my mind racing back and forth between what a sophisticated socialite would say to something like that—and the truth. Needing another few seconds, I stepped away from the window and sat on his sofa. “I’m a very private person. My work is everything to me and I guess I’m afraid to lose focus.”
He gave a single nod. “You think spending time with me is a distraction,” he said as if he completely agreed.
Not exactly.
Hoping the next honest thing I said would be enough; I raised my head as he met me by the sofa. “I’m enjoying our time together…more than I thought I would.”
He set down both our wine glasses. “And it’s scaring you. The thought of losing yourself.”
No, what’s scaring me is that I want to lose myself in you.
I only nodded as my eyes dropped to his lips.
“I get it.” He wrapped his hands around my neck, raking strands of my hair between his fingers. “More than you know,” he whispered. I met him halfway in a heated and hungry kiss as our mouths collided. I hadn’t taken Scott as the type of man to hold back when he kissed, but it occurred to me that this was the first time he’d kissed me when we were alone and it was so very different. So needy and passionate. He’d been holding back.
And I’d been missing out.
My heart pounded against my chest. Against his. His lips and tongue were so hot, desperate, it made me move into him, wanting to taste and feel him just as badly.
With the change of position, Scott pulled away. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. I did not bring you up here to—”
“You didn’t?” There was disappointment in my voice, I wasn’t sure how to hide.
“Not at all.”
My eyes dropped to his chest. “Well, thanks for the view.” I said before lifting them back to his. The physical connection, the need to be touched by him, to be near him is all I wanted right now.
Desire was taking over and our lifestyle differences went out the window.
So did honesty.
I wanted this man. The one who swept me off my feet on our first date when I’d thought I’d ruined it. The one who would have waited for me to show up regardless of what day I got his note. The one who generously donated time and money into a children’s organization.
My chest ached when I realized I couldn’t walk away if I tried.
I could fight fire with fire. Tell off my boss and an obnoxious employee. I could face the richest of the rich at galas, blend in with the crowd when I needed to, conversing like one of them—and do it well.
But when it came to Scott Weston, I could do nothing. Except for maybe telling him the truth. And while I desperately wanted to do that, the thought terrified me.
“Tell me what you’re thinking Isabel. Help me figure you out.”
This was it. I was seconds away from screaming out the truth and ultimately having this man send me on my way, or worse, ruin me. He’d been upfront about how he felt about lying and while I hadn’t outright lied, a lie of omission was no better, was it?
Okay, so maybe there were a few fibs here and there…
Coming out of my high, I shook my head and pushed past him, heading toward the door. “Scott, I’m sorry, you’re saying all the right things, I just—”
“Isabel,” he called, a chill in his tone stopped me in my tracks. “Tell me why.”
My head snapped back and I practically shouted. “I don’t want to be figured out.”
He glared at me; his chest rose as he took in a silent breath.
Feeling the sting in my eyes, I turned and slipped on my heels, my hand shaking as I reached for the door handle. A warm breath in my ear stopped me from pulling it open.
“Then I won’t ask,” Scott whispered before placing both hands on my waist.
