“Good—” He stopped, when the lights dimmed. “Good,” he said again, but it was an entirely different sentence.
Gwen was terribly aware of him until fifteen minutes into Ju-on. By then, she was wrapped up in the story, anticipating the scary bits. She kept eating her popcorn, pausing just before something bad happened. That was the fun of multiple viewings—no danger of choking.
Then, about ten minutes later, Paul touched her hand. The underside. After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped his fingers between hers.
She hadn’t had anyone hold her hand in a movie in years. If anything, dates had put their arm around her to snuggle. This was infinitely sweeter. She felt like a teenager again—no, younger than that. There was an innocence to his move, a tiny step where nothing else would have worked.
Despite the gasps of fear that filled the theater, the ominous music, she looked at Paul to find him looking at her.
He smiled. Tossed some popcorn in his mouth, then turned back to the screen.
She wasn’t worried about the ending anymore. Not of the movie or of the night. He’d just told her she was safe.
And then with a jolt she realized that wasn’t true at all.
Chapter 10
GWEN CLOSED HER FRONT DOOR, dropped her purse and sweater on the table, then flopped onto her couch with a satisfied sigh. She couldn’t have asked for a better night.
They’d held hands for the rest of the movie and for all of the second. Her fingers had been squeezed during the scariest bits and her palm tickled once for no reason at all. They’d gone to a nearby coffee shop after, where he’d had a piece of chocolate cake, which, she pointed out, negated his low-cal popcorn. He’d been unimpressed with her logic as he’d devoured every bite.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have called it a date. But it wasn’t. For heaven’s sake, they were just beginning their friendship and neither had spoken of anything more. Friendships were good. Lovely. And the hand-holding was nothing more than…what? Maybe her definition of friendship might need some refinement.
But it was late and she was foolish. Time to get ready for bed. She didn’t hurry, though. She went into the kitchen to put her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, her thoughts turning to the end of their night.
As she’d predicted, he’d walked her to her car, but just as she’d unlocked her door, he’d gotten a phone call from a client. Voilà. No kissing awkwardness. A perfect ending all the way around.
She looked at her hand, still marveling that she’d been so giddy over such a simple thing. What was happening to her? Her maturity and good sense were going straight down the tubes, and she didn’t mind in the least.
Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the absolute perfect ending to their evening. He could have thrown the phone into the bushes, pulled her into his arms and kissed her desperately, swearing his undying—
Uh, wait. That’s not at all what she’d wanted. Dramatic, yes, but it would have freaked her out so badly, she’d have run for the hills.
She didn’t want him that way. Not in real life. So she had fantasies. So she wasn’t immune to the romantic mythos. Yes, even levelheaded women who knew better could still dream about being in a fairy tale, right? That didn’t automatically knock off IQ points. It was just part of her girl DNA.
With that settled, she finished cleaning up the kitchen. It was past her bedtime and she didn’t do well on less than seven hours. She wished someone would invent a way to get a washed face and clean teeth without actually having to wash or brush. A knock on the door caught her just before her bedroom.
It was past midnight. Who could be knocking at this hour, unless it was Holly? Gwen ran to the door and opened it.
It wasn’t Holly.
“Good, you weren’t in bed yet. I’ve been standing out here for ten minutes worrying I’d wake you.”
“Paul.”
He gave her a wobbly smile. “Never mind. I’ll go.”
She grabbed his arm. “No, don’t be silly. I was just surprised, that’s all. Come on in.”
He followed her, stopping in the foyer. “The thing is, I didn’t really say good-night.”
“It’s okay. It was business. Something that clearly had to be taken care of.”
“Yeah, it did. But you left so suddenly. I wanted to tell you that I had a really great time.”
“Me, too—”
He stepped close, took her arm. “That’s not what I wanted to say. I mean, I had a great time, but I came here because I couldn’t just let it go.”
“Let what go? Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong except I didn’t want you to go. I wanted to kiss you good-night.”
Her eyes had locked on to his, mesmerized by the look of hunger there. It was the look she’d imagined in the dark of night, under the covers. Not something she ever expected to actually see. It felt…wrong. Heat filled her cheeks and she broke free from his grasp.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I thought…”
“It’s fine. I just wonder if it’s such a good idea to, you know—”
“No, no. I get it.” Paul took a step back, but he looked hurt. “My mistake.”
Insecurities she hadn’t felt for years stormed inside her. Could it be possible for them to be lovers? Everything in her experience said no, but just looking at him made her want so badly to be wrong. It didn’t happen this way. Beautiful women with unattractive men? A staple of TV sitcoms. Beautiful men with women like her? Not unless the women magically turned to swans. That wasn’t going to happen to her. Ever. But, oh, God, the way he looked at her.
He still stood frozen, stealing glances that only made him seem less sure. “What do you want?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know.”
“That kiss the other night. It didn’t feel like you hated it.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “You know I didn’t.”
“Then what? If you want me to leave, I’m gone.” He closed the distance between them, and lifted her face to his. “But if you want me to stay…”
“I don’t understand this.”
“Don’t try,” he whispered as he stole her breath with a gentle kiss. Then his hands went to her waist, pulling her tight. The kiss changed, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Gwen’s body reacted as if he’d awakened her from a deep sleep. She felt everything so sharply. His chest pressing her breasts, his stomach and thighs against her and most especially the hardening length of his cock.
What was she doing, kissing him back? Sucking on his thrusting tongue, letting herself moan with awakening pleasure? This was wrong in every way. She was smarter than this. Paul was not hers, not for her, not remotely the kind of man who should make her moan outside of a dream.
She pushed against his chest but it was clear she didn’t mean it. His coming here, his wanting her had caught her off guard, that’s all. It had been forever since someone had been so eager, so determined.
His mouth widened, his tongue probed then withdrew and it was as if they were dancing again, both knowing the steps as if they’d practiced a hundred times. His low moans matched hers in spirit if not in tone, and she found her hips thrusting in that same swaying rhythm.
He drew back, breaking contact, only to stare at her, his eyes dark