have.”
“Answers you don’t have? Or answers you don’t want to give?” I take a step toward him, and he doesn’t bat a lash. He studies my face. I study his. Mentally, I retrace all the steps that led us to this moment tonight.
Our dinner and drive were benign enough. Conversation was easy. I was comfortable. We both handled ourselves as adults, ignoring the touches and glances and whatever the hell was in the air tonight that made it impossible to deny that something was shifting.
But somehow, we ended up here anyway, swimming in a sea of tension, asking ourselves things we never expected to need to know.
Derek groans, his lips tight and chocolate eyes focused. “Don’t do this, Serena.”
I offer a sarcastic “ha” and cock my head. “Don’t do what , Derek?”
“Don’t steer the conversation this way,” he says. “You know damn well where it’s heading.”
I play dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Play with fire all you want, but I refuse to take advantage of you. I’m not going to explore anything remotely inappropriate with you because you are my client . That violates the Moral Code . Messing around with you could land me in scorching hot water. I won’t risk it.” He leans in, and I close my eyes, feeling his lips brush against the side of my cheek. “As tempting as it is.”
He pulls away.
“So I regret to inform you that I’m not going to kiss you,” he says, “despite the fact that it’s been all I could think about since the moment you walked out of your room tonight.”
My stomach flips, and I bite my lower lip.
I knew it.
“I really wish you hadn’t said that.” I glance up at him.
“And why is that?”
“Because it changes things.” I slink a shoulder to my ear and let it drop. “Now every time I look at you, I’m going to be thinking about how you want to kiss me. And how I would probably let you.”
Derek’s tongue grazes his lower lip for a fraction of a second, and my heart freefalls.
“You’re nice, Derek,” I say. “You’ve shown more kindness to me than I deserve. I’m comfortable around you. I’m myself around you, and I can’t say that I’ve ever really been myself around anyone. It’s like the walls, the façade . . . none of it is necessary with you. You’re real and genuine. I don’t know anyone like that. Not personally.”
“I’m sorry they don’t make them like me where you’re from,” he says. “But before you so much as attempt to craft me into some fantasy boyfriend in your pretty little head, let me strongly advise you to save yourself the hassle and let it go.”
“I don’t want to date you.” My lips curl up at the corners. He has this all wrong. “I don’t want anything. I just like how I feel around you. That’s all. Is that some kind of crime, counselor?”
My high school history teacher always told me my mouth would get me in trouble someday. I was too honest, he would tell me. Of course, that was after I called him out for checking out my best friend’s ass in the hall between first and second period. Amongst other things.
I can’t help it. I call things as I see them, and I always have. I’m not good at pretending. I’m horrible at being something I’m not. It’s physically painful to swallow the very words that sometimes sit on the tip of my tongue.
“Look.” He takes a step away from me, and I feel my insides deflating. “It’s been an intense week. We’ve had some drinks tonight. We had a nice time together. You’re feeling better about your situation and you’re redirecting those feelings toward me. But I can assure you, I’m not what you need.”
“How would you know what I need?” I scoff, giving him a look that starts at his head and ends at his feet before zipping right back up. “You know nothing about me.”
“You’re right, Serena. I know nothing about you.” He takes another step away. “You’re my client. I’m letting you stay here until you
“Answers you don’t have? Or answers you don’t want to give?” I take a step toward him, and he doesn’t bat a lash. He studies my face. I study his. Mentally, I retrace all the steps that led us to this moment tonight.
Our dinner and drive were benign enough. Conversation was easy. I was comfortable. We both handled ourselves as adults, ignoring the touches and glances and whatever the hell was in the air tonight that made it impossible to deny that something was shifting.
But somehow, we ended up here anyway, swimming in a sea of tension, asking ourselves things we never expected to need to know.
Derek groans, his lips tight and chocolate eyes focused. “Don’t do this, Serena.”
I offer a sarcastic “ha” and cock my head. “Don’t do what , Derek?”
“Don’t steer the conversation this way,” he says. “You know damn well where it’s heading.”
I play dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Play with fire all you want, but I refuse to take advantage of you. I’m not going to explore anything remotely inappropriate with you because you are my client . That violates the Moral Code . Messing around with you could land me in scorching hot water. I won’t risk it.” He leans in, and I close my eyes, feeling his lips brush against the side of my cheek. “As tempting as it is.”
He pulls away.
“So I regret to inform you that I’m not going to kiss you,” he says, “despite the fact that it’s been all I could think about since the moment you walked out of your room tonight.”
My stomach flips, and I bite my lower lip.
I knew it.
“I really wish you hadn’t said that.” I glance up at him.
“And why is that?”
“Because it changes things.” I slink a shoulder to my ear and let it drop. “Now every time I look at you, I’m going to be thinking about how you want to kiss me. And how I would probably let you.”
Derek’s tongue grazes his lower lip for a fraction of a second, and my heart freefalls.
“You’re nice, Derek,” I say. “You’ve shown more kindness to me than I deserve. I’m comfortable around you. I’m myself around you, and I can’t say that I’ve ever really been myself around anyone. It’s like the walls, the façade . . . none of it is necessary with you. You’re real and genuine. I don’t know anyone like that. Not personally.”
“I’m sorry they don’t make them like me where you’re from,” he says. “But before you so much as attempt to craft me into some fantasy boyfriend in your pretty little head, let me strongly advise you to save yourself the hassle and let it go.”
“I don’t want to date you.” My lips curl up at the corners. He has this all wrong. “I don’t want anything. I just like how I feel around you. That’s all. Is that some kind of crime, counselor?”
My high school history teacher always told me my mouth would get me in trouble someday. I was too honest, he would tell me. Of course, that was after I called him out for checking out my best friend’s ass in the hall between first and second period. Amongst other things.
I can’t help it. I call things as I see them, and I always have. I’m not good at pretending. I’m horrible at being something I’m not. It’s physically painful to swallow the very words that sometimes sit on the tip of my tongue.
“Look.” He takes a step away from me, and I feel my insides deflating. “It’s been an intense week. We’ve had some drinks tonight. We had a nice time together. You’re feeling better about your situation and you’re redirecting those feelings toward me. But I can assure you, I’m not what you need.”
“How would you know what I need?” I scoff, giving him a look that starts at his head and ends at his feet before zipping right back up. “You know nothing about me.”
“You’re right, Serena. I know nothing about you.” He takes another step away. “You’re my client. I’m letting you stay here until you
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