“I’m going up to Doi Suthep, to see the temple. I thought you might want to come with me.”
She did. Not just to see the temple, although that was of major interest to her, but to spend some time with him. It was that whole inconvenient paradox of being in love with her best friend again. She wanted to avoid him, because she felt conflicted over the kiss. She wanted to be with him, confide in him, because she felt conflicted, too.
“I …”
“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, hands on his lean hips. “Well, I know you’re avoiding me, but I guess I don’t know why. Does this have to do with you leaving Roasted?”
“No!”
“Then what the hell is your problem?”
Hot, reckless anger flooded her. “My problem? Are you serious? You asked me to come here, and play fiancée, and I have. I don’t have a problem.”
“When you aren’t avoiding me.”
“I have done exactly what you asked me to do,” she said. “I have played the part of charming, simpering fiancée, I’ve worn this ring on my finger, and you can’t, for one second see why that might not be … something I want to do. And then you kiss me. Kiss me like … like you really are on your honeymoon, and you want to know what my problem is?”
He looped his arm around her waist and drew her to him, his eyes blazing. She braced herself against him, her palms flat on his bare chest. “I think I do know what your problem is. I think you’re avoiding me because of the kiss. Because you’re afraid it will happen again. Or because you want it to happen again.”
She shook her head slightly. “N-no. I haven’t even thought about it again.”
“Liar.” He dipped his head so that his lips hovered just above hers. “You want this.”
She did. She really did. She wanted his lips on hers. His hands on her body. She wanted everything. “You arrogant bastard,” she said, her voice trembling. “How dare you?”
“How dare I what? Say that you want it again? We both know you do.”
His lips were so close to hers and it was tempting, so tempting, to angle her head so that they met. So that she could taste him again. Have a moment of stolen pleasure again.
“You do want it,” he said again, his voice rough, strained.
“So?” she whispered.
“What?”
“So what if I do?” she said, finding strength in her voice. “What then, Zack? We’ll kiss? Sleep together? And then what? Nothing. You and I both know there won’t be anything after that. We’ll just ruin what we do have.”
He released his hold on her and took a step back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Sorry.”
“You’ve been apologizing to me a lot lately,” she said, her voice trembling. “You don’t need to do that.”
He nodded. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Not going to the temple?”
He smiled ruefully. “Still am. And you can come if you want. Provided you’ve worked the tantrum out of your system.”
“That was your tantrum, Parsons, not mine.”
“Maybe.” He tightened his jaw, his hands curling into fists. “Just tense I suppose. Coming with me or not?”
She hesitated. Because she did want to go, but things weren’t … easy with him at the moment. And the scariest thing was she wasn’t sure she wanted them to be easy again. She was sort of liking this new, scary dynamic between them. The one that made him touch her like she did something to him. Like he was losing control.
“I’ll be good. I promise,” he added.
She laughed, a fake, tremulous sound. “I wasn’t worried.”
Zack wasn’t the one who worried her. She hesitated because she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to behave.
“I was,” he said, turning away from her and walking back into the house. She watched him the whole way, the muscles on his back, the dent just above the waistline of his jeans, and his perfect, tight butt.
She let out a slow, shaky breath. Yeah, it was definitely herself she didn’t trust.
The temple at Doi Suthep was crowded with tourists, spiritual pilgrims and locals. Clara and Zack walked up the redbrick staircase, the handrails fashioned into guardian dragons with slithering bodies and fierce faces.
They were silent for the three-hundred-step trek up to the temple, Clara keeping a safe distance between them, in spite of the crush of people all around them. She was mad at him.
And fair enough, he’d been a jerk earlier. That was sexual frustration. Sexual frustration combined with the desire to give in to the need to kiss her again. To do more than kiss her.
Damn.
He could still remember the first time he’d seen Clara. She was working behind the counter at a bakery, flour on her cheeks. She was cute. Not the kind of woman he was normally attracted to. But she’d fascinated him. Utterly and completely. It had turned out she’d made great cupcakes, too. And that she was smart and funny. That it felt good to be with her.
The emotional connection to her, when he’d been lacking a connection with anyone for years, had been shocking, instant, and had immediately found him shoving his attraction to her away.
A friendship with her was fine. Anything else … he didn’t have room for it. Anything else would go beyond the boundaries he’d set for himself. And he needed his boundaries. His control. He valued it above everything else.
Just another reason he’d intended to marry Hannah. Marriage brought stability, a sort of controlled existence that attracted him. One woman in his bed, in his life.
And now that that had gone to hell, it seemed his feelings for Clara were headed in the same direction. He’d done with her, for seven years now, what he did with everything in his life. She had a place. She was his friend. She didn’t move out of that place in his mind.
His body was suddenly thinking differently. He’d made a mistake. He’d allowed himself too much freedom. He’d indulged his desire to look at her body. To touch her soft skin when they’d gone swimming. And that night, he’d given in to the temptation to allow her to feature in his fantasies. To find release with her image in his mind.
He’d allowed himself to cross the line in his mind, and that was where control started. He knew better. Yet it was hard to regret. Because wanting her was such a tantalizing experience. Just feeling desire for her was a pleasure on its own.
Her sweet, short, sundress was not helping matters. Though, thankfully she’d had to purchase a pair of silk pants to wear beneath it before they could head up toward the temple.
Still, even with her legs covered, there was that bright, gorgeous smile that had been plastered on her face since they’d arrived. She was all breathy sighs and sounds of pleasure over the sights and sounds. It was the sweetest torture.
“Incredible,” she breathed, her voice soft, sensual in a way. Enough to make his body ache.
“Yes,” he agreed. Mostly, he was looking at her, and not the immense, gold-laden temple.
He forced himself to look away from Clara. To keep his focus on the gilded statues, the bright, fragrant offerings of flowers, fresh fruit and cakes left in front of the different alters that were placed throughout the courtyard. A large, dome-shaped building covered entirely in gold reflected the sun, the air bright, thick with smoke from burning incense.
Monks