Nothing Between Us

With that, he lowered his head. The moment his lips touched hers she could tell that this was not going to be a quick peck like she’d given him. This was going to be so much better. Her eyelids fell shut as his mouth met hers with a gentleness that belied the intensity she’d seen in his eyes. The kiss was so tender, so softly sensual, that she thought she would die from the slow burn of the connection. Colby Wilkes, a man in no hurry. He teased her bottom lip with a playful tug and then took it between his. The tip of his tongue grazed the line of her lips, but he didn’t push or deepen the kiss yet. It was a taste, a sip of what he could give her.

Her hands went to his chest, feeling the solid muscle and a quickly beating heart beneath her palms. His T-shirt curled in her fingers and a soft sound escaped her—her starved libido begging on her behalf. Please, sir, may I have some more?

He continued to kiss her, and the hand against her hip tightened as he guided her against him, bringing her body flush with his. That was when she opened her mouth to him, inviting a deeper, more all-encompassing kiss. Like walking into a bakery after a juice fast, she wanted to gorge on all the things, taste everything he could give her. Not just a sample. But after a gentle twining of their tongues, he eased back. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

She blinked, off balance for a second, already missing the feel of his lips, the brush of his beard against her skin. Please don’t stop. She feared if she paused, her broken brain would take over and ruin it. “You don’t have to stop.”

He smiled, that dimple flashing again, and squeezed her hip. “I do.”

“Why?” she asked, her frustration flaring.

“Because you came here to talk to me,” he said, lines of strain appearing around his eyes, proving that it wasn’t exactly easy for him to dial back either. He pushed a stray hair off her forehead. “And I know it was a difficult challenge for you to come here. So if I push you too far too fast, the panic might catch up, and we’ll do more harm than good.”

“Sounds way too logical and smart,” she declared. “I hate that.”

He chuckled and put his hands over hers, which were still clinging to his shirt. He lifted them and kissed her knuckles. “How about you tell me what I need to do with those enchiladas, then we’ll talk? If you still want me to not stop later, I promise to throw all logic out the window.”

“Deal,” she said with a smile. “And it’s twenty minutes in a three-hundred-and-fifty-degree oven, then a minute or two under the broiler at the end to brown the cheese.”

“I can handle that.” He released her and guided her down to the couch. “Sit and relax. I’ll be right back. What do you want to drink? I’ve got beer, red wine, and soda.”

“A beer would be great.”

“You got it.” He changed the station on the TV to one that played mellow contemporary music, then grabbed the dish of enchiladas and disappeared into the kitchen. The fact that he hadn’t put on the country station made her smile because it was obviously for her benefit. She knew that was his drug of choice—old-school country. It was what he played at the bar—not that she’d ever gotten to hear him play live. But they’d talked about it one day when they’d both been outside in their yards. He’d rattled off a few names of his favorite singers and bands, and she’d only heard of one or two.

Afterward, she’d gone to her computer and Googled him, finding a few YouTube videos of performances, most of them old footage, a few recent. Apparently, he’d been a bit of a big deal when he was younger—a guy on the brink of breaking out. But he’d disappeared from the scene for some unknown reason. She’d played those videos, transfixed, watching them more than once in true stalker style. He had a singing voice so deep, she’d wanted to roll around in it. Even when he sang songs about things she had no personal connection to—growing up in a small town, falling in love with a girl, and stirring up trouble—the music had resonated with her in a way no other kind had because of the way Colby had sung the lyrics. Honesty bled into his performances, and he had a voice that could make the most frigid chick go liquid. She’d become quite a fan. But, of course, he had no idea. Just as he had no idea about her other stalker-like activities …

She sighed. With him gone, her mind kicked into gear again, dimming some of the heady high of the kiss. She was in Colby’s living room. And had kissed him. The reality was hard to believe. On her list of small steps she hoped to move through to get herself healthy for the trial, she’d just jumped from number two to like number six hundred. She glanced out the side window to find her house staring back at her like a sentinel awaiting her return. That was the extent of her whole world sitting next door. Sure, she managed to go out once a week and get her groceries and take care of necessities, but it was always a white-knuckle day made possible by her medication. That house was the only place she could exist without the crushing anxiety. Both a sanctuary and a prison.

But here she was, finally sitting outside it. Exhilarated. Terrified. Leesha was going to shoot a confetti gun when she found out. Georgia clasped her hands in her lap, her thumb rubbing her palm in a slow, methodical motion—up and down, up and down—an unconscious habit that soothed her. As long as she didn’t think about this too hard, she wouldn’t lose it. Colby had been right about that part. As soon as he’d started giving her instructions, she’d been able to focus on simply following and shutting down the racing part of her brain. She’d never thought she’d be able to hear commands from a man without thinking of Phillip, but with Colby it felt different—less of an affront to her free will and more an act of caring direction. It’d been a little like the yoga she did some mornings. Shut the mind down and listen to the teacher on the video tell you how to breathe and move.

Except yoga didn’t involve a big, sexy man and a kiss that’d been hotter than sin on Sunday.

Colby returned to the living room a few minutes later and handed her a Heineken before sitting next to her on the couch. “All right, dinner’s in the oven. Thanks for putting that together. It was going to be a PB&J night.”

“No problem. I like to cook.” Well, she’d learned to like it. Back in Chicago, it had been all about eating out. The food was to die for in the city, and she’d taken full advantage of it. But now she didn’t have that option. After moving here, she’d missed going out to restaurants and had gotten tired of microwave meals and delivery, so she’d decided if she couldn’t manage to go out anymore, she’d learn how to make her favorites at home via her friend the Food Network.

Colby shifted on the couch so that he was facing her and leaning back on the arm of it. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Hell. Talking. That was what she’d come over here for. But she certainly wasn’t ready to tell him her secret now. Not after that kiss. It’d ruin it all. She scrambled for a different subject and took a long sip of her beer. Then she toed off her shoes so she wouldn’t be tempted to bolt. “Is Keats still here?”

He cocked a thumb toward the hallway behind him. “Yeah, in the guest bedroom. I think he took the nighttime allergy medicine instead of the regular. He’s been out for a few hours.”

“I’m glad he’s still around. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You want to talk about Keats?” he asked, brows dipping in confusion.

“I do. And I know I’m being nosy,” Georgia said rolling the bottle between her palms and keeping her voice low in case Keats woke up. “But how bad is his situation?”

Colby considered her, looking way too tempting with his still-damp hair and that snug T-shirt, but he seemed to be pondering the question. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I’m guessing not good. I found him busking in a park last night. He said he needed money to make rent.”

“How long is he staying with you?”

Colby frowned and glanced toward the hallway, then took a draw of his beer. “He wants me to drive him back tonight. I’m giving him some money. He said it’ll cover him for a while.”

“You don’t seem too thrilled about that.”

“I’m not.” Colby leaned back and laid his arm across the back of the couch, looking weary all of a sudden. “But the guy’s too prideful for handouts. I offered to let him stay with me for a while, but he sees it as charity. Plus, he comes from a world where nothing is given for free. Even with one night, I could tell he was trying to figure out my angle, like there’s more to it than me wanting to help out.”

She picked at the label on her beer. “Is there?”

“No, he’s a kid I used to know who needed help. I helped. I still want to help.”

“He’s not a kid anymore, Colby,” she said, peeking up at him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

He raised a brow at her. “Well, apparently, you have.”

“Come on,” she said, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “You know neither of you is hard to look at.”

“Is that right? Neither of us, huh?” He grinned and pointed the neck of his beer toward her. “Does this mean I need to challenge Keats to a duel for your primary affections?”

She sniffed. “Only if you plan on taking your shirts off and doing hand-to-hand combat. Possibly while the sprinklers are running.”

A bark of laughter spilled out of him, echoing through the room. “Dirty mind, Georgia. I like this side of you.”

She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in a very long time. She liked this side of her, too—even though she suspected it was partly due to the residual effects of that kiss and might not last long. “I have my moments.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” he said, the shift in his voice like a stroke against her skin.

She chewed her lip, the simple statement bringing to mind her nights at that window, the things she’d seen take place in the room down the hall. But she couldn’t let her thoughts wander there. Already she could feel her body prickling with awareness. She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it against her chest in defense. “Do you think Keats would consider staying if I could offer him a job?”

His forehead scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“I need an assistant. Simple stuff—errands, emails, mailing things for me. I have an extra laptop. He could do it from here—or my place, if I can handle that. It’d only be part time, but it’d be steady work, and he could look for something full time or take classes or whatever he needs to do in between.”

“I thought you were looking for a virtual assistant.”

She shrugged, though her attempt at casual felt stiff. This was a big, major deal for her. “I was. But he needs it more than some college kid. And … I think it’d be good for me, you know, to invite some people into my life.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re kind of amazing for making that offer. But why him?”

She set her beer on the coffee table. “Because he seems like a good guy who’s had some bad luck. And I don’t know, when he helped me today, there was just something about him. I feel comfortable around him—which, believe me, in my world, is like finding a unicorn.”

Colby’s mouth curved upward. “I’m sure Keats would be thrilled to know you called him a unicorn. Very badass image. You sure this isn’t just a sinister plan to live out some boss/subordinate fantasy? Because you’ve already admitted he’s not hard to look at, and I have a feeling Keats would have no problem volunteering for that game. I mean, you already got him naked after only knowing him for a few minutes.”

She grinned and tossed the pillow at him, even though the images he painted were oh-so-tempting ones. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He held his beer out of the way and batted down the pillow, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Oh, come on, the thought didn’t cross your mind even once? Yes, Ms. Delaune, should I type this letter with my shirt off or maybe without pants?”

She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re terrible.”

“And right,” he said, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at her.

She shook her head, a little amazed that he’d picked up on her attraction to Keats and that they were openly discussing another man. “You know, you’re not like other guys.”

“Of course I’m not, but what makes you say that?”

“Well, we just kissed and you’re teasing me about another guy like it’s no big deal if I think he’s hot.”

Colby shrugged. “I kissed you. I like you. But I don’t own you. I don’t have any right or desire to control who you find attractive. And I’d rather have your honesty than anything else.”

Georgia tried not to wince. Honesty. Yeah, she was doing a stellar job at that one. Fake last name. Shady background. Not to mention that whole illegal-peeping thing. Just slap a big fat F on her report card for that one. Her conscience wagged its finger at her, bringing the guilt down heavy. Her thumb started rubbing at her palm again. She watched the back-and-forth motion. Maybe she should leave. Kissing Colby had been fantastic, but how could she pursue anything with him? All her issues. The fact that he was dominant. Everything was so complicated in her life right now. “It’s getting late …”

“Come on, baby,” he said softly. “Don’t chicken out on me now.”

She looked up, finding those hazel eyes studying her, flickering gold in the lamplight. “What?”

“Tell me what you really came here to tell me.”

It took a second for the request to register, but when it did, it squeezed around her throat in a death grip. “What do you mean?”

“Georgia …”

The awareness in his eyes was like a guillotine slicing through her last shreds of hope.

Oh. Shit.

“You saw the binoculars.”

TEN

Colby’s expression didn’t change, but he set down his beer. “I did.”

She stared at the couch cushion between them, humiliation bleeding through her. This wasn’t happening. “I’m so sorry, I—”

But her words trailed off when he shifted toward her on the couch. He put his fingers beneath her chin. “Hey, look at me.”

That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she forced her focus upward. She’d done the crime, now it was time to pay the price for it. But when she tilted her face to him, she didn’t see any censure or judgment in his.

“You must think—” she started again, but he hushed her with a shake of the head.

“I already knew,” he admitted. “So I’m as much to blame as you are.”

“What?” She blinked, her thoughts scattering like frantic mice. Maybe she was hearing things. “But—”

“I saw your curtains move and a flash one night when I had friends over. The moonlight must’ve glinted off the lens of your binoculars.”

“Oh my God.” She put her hands to her face, officially mortified. “Why didn’t you shut your curtains?”

He chuckled and reached for her wrists, easing her arms down to her lap. “I’m guessing you can probably figure out the answer to that yourself.”

She swallowed hard, the realization staring her in the face. “You liked me watching.”

His dimpled smile was downright devious. “Hello, Ms. Voyeur, meet Mr. Exhibitionist.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “God, that makes me sound like such a pervert.”

He released her wrists and leaned back against the arm of the couch again. “Come on, now. You’ve watched me long enough to know I could beat you on the pervert scale a few thousand times over. No need to feel any shame about it. You wanted to watch. I let you—and enjoyed it.”

She couldn’t process this. All the times she’d watched him flipped through her mind like a dirty movie on fast-forward and repeat. All those nights, he’d known she was there. Then another thought hit her. “So last night …”

“Last night was probably out of line,” he admitted. “All the other times, I knew you were watching, but I didn’t change my behavior because of it. Last night, I did.”

Her heart was moving too fast again, but for a different reason than panic. “Why?”

He considered her for a moment, then released a breath. “Because I was selfish. I needed to know if you watched my window because you just enjoy seeing other people be intimate and do kinky things or if you watched because of me.”

Oh, hell. She bit the inside of her lip.

“Because some people like watching no matter who it is. And that’s cool. I can get into that sometimes, too. But if that’s all it was, I wanted to know so that I didn’t go traipsing where I’m not wanted.”

Her brows met. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen what kind of lifestyle I live, how I am with lovers?”

“Yes,” she said, almost too low for her own ears to register the sound.

“And what do you know about me, Georgia?”

She wet her lips. “You’re bisexual.”

“I am.”

“And you like threesomes.”

Amusement lit his eyes. “True, what’s not to like?”

“And you’re a dominant and a sadist.”

His mouth lifted at the corner. “Yes. You know the language. I have to admit that surprises me a little. Google?”

“I look that innocent?” she asked, deadpan. “I think I’m insulted.”

Okay, so it was totally Google. But no way she was admitting that.

He laughed, the sound coming from deep in that wide chest of his. “I’m not trying to tease you.”

“Uh-huh.”

He took her hand again, his expression going more serious. “I’m only trying to figure you out—and need to make sure you know exactly who I am because that list of things would probably scare off ninety percent of the population. And if you watch me simply because I’m so out there that you find it interesting, that’s fine. If we kissed because there’s attraction but you’re not really into the other stuff, I’ll understand. Tell me that and nothing has to change. You can continue to watch and I’ll let you.” His thumb traced the delicate bones of her wrist, the heat of his touch burning through her. “But if you watch because you think you might crave some of those same things, if you find yourself wondering what it’d be like to be there with me instead of behind the glass, then tell me that, too. Because, Georgia, all you have to do is ask and next time I won’t stop unless you tell me to.”

Everything in her sparked like live wires hitting water—Colby’s words overriding any residual effect from the small dose of anxiety medicine or a beer could provide. Just ask. She’d imagined that proposition so many times in the quiet of her guest room. Yes, the things he did were out there. Some of them scared her, in theory, but she knew real fear and she’d never felt that when thinking of Colby. She didn’t feel it now. And the thought of experiencing that even once with him, having his hands on her, that big body pressing against her …

She leaned back, needing some breathing space and some solid ground. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say what’s on your mind. There are no wrong answers here.”

She sighed and looked up at him. “I’m not going to sit here and lie that I haven’t thought about what it’d be like with you … like that, submissive. I can’t stop watching … and thinking. But it’s scary. The thought of putting myself out there like that.”

He watched her intently, as if considering every one of her words, then nodded. “Well, know there’s no pressure here. You don’t have to answer now or ever. But I’m telling you all this because I’m not one to bullshit or play games. I like you. I want you. But I also am the way I am, and that’s not for everyone.”

No lies or games—what a novel concept. Most days she felt her whole life was balancing on intricately weaved, wispy-thin threads of deceit. Something free of all that was so goddamned tempting. Colby was so damn tempting. But this was anything but simple. This was no longer some fantasy scenario she was watching from a safe distance. It would be her tied to that big bed of his.

She rubbed her lips together and peered over at him. “I don’t know if I’m capable of being submissive.”

“You say that.” The shadow of his dimple appeared. “But you like watching me and imagining you’re there with me? In those scenarios, do you picture being in charge of me?”

She held his gaze for a long while, but the truth sat full on her lips. “No. I can’t really imagine you like that. It doesn’t make sense.”

“And when you think of being on your knees for me, does that make sense?”

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “Sometimes. In the fantasy world.”

“That fantasy world is where a lot of truth hides. We could test what’s true for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here, let’s try something.” He settled back against the arm of the couch. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

With a huff, she complied. “You use that eyebrow thing on your students?”

“Yes, it’s very effective. Now, put your back to me. I promise I won’t touch you anywhere that I couldn’t in public.”

She had no idea what he was up to, and the thought of letting him touch her in any way made her belly do flips. What if she panicked? But every instinct in her told her Colby was okay. Even so, it was hard to trust her intuition. It had let her down so spectacularly with Phillip. But looking back, she knew she had ignored signs early on. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

But right now, she needed to take this risk, give her gut a test run, trust that Colby wasn’t a dangerous guy. He’d never done anything to make her think otherwise. And even if something went wrong, she had enough self-defense moves to get out of this position if she needed to. She’d trained hard to make sure she never got caught defenseless again. She turned around fully, and he put his hands on her waist to drag her back against him.

He situated her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and letting her head rest on his shoulder. Lord, he was big. She braced herself for the inevitable anxiety she expected to rush forward. But instead, after giving herself a moment to take a breath, she realized she felt just fine. Better than fine. She was deliciously cocooned in Colby’s warmth and the clean scent of freshly showered man. It was pretty damn nice, actually.

“There,” he said, settling into the position. “Now I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed while we try this. You’re a writer, so I’m sure you have a vivid imagination. I need you to use it.”

“But—”

“Hush,” he said softly. “Just relax and listen. I think this may help.” His fingertips traced along her arms, and the music from the TV drifted around them. He took his time, caressing her and letting her adjust to being held by him, and then he started to speak low against her ear. “I want you to picture standing in the doorway to my room. I’ve turned the lights down and lit candles. The shadows are dancing along the walls. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, all you can see is the outline of me sitting in the armchair in the corner. I’m still in my work clothes but I’ve loosened my tie. I’m waiting for you.”

Georgia’s skin warmed and tingled where he touched, the scene appearing in her mind, colors filling in with fine brushstrokes as Colby shared more details. She could see him sitting there, legs spread wide, the posture of a confident king holding court—sexy and intimidating. Her heartbeat kicked a little harder against her ribs.

“Can you see me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I tell you to come in. You’ve worn a red dress and look beautiful, but that’s not what I need tonight. I want nothing between us. I order you to undress for me. Slowly.”

His breath brushed against the shell of her ear with every word, and a hot shiver worked its way down her body. She pictured herself standing there in the middle of his room, the window she’d so often spied through bearing silent witness. She could almost hear the zipper dragging down as she imagined reaching behind her and tugging it to slip out of the dress.