“Yes,” she growled dramatically. “That’s exactly what I mean. Edward,” she exclaimed with a short sigh, “we’re already friends and …”
“Correction, Miss Turner. You’re my best friend and that has to count for something.”
“Come on,” she urged, turning from his embrace. “Let’s go inside. If we’re going to talk about this, I can’t have the wind blowing up my skirt.” When he chuckled at her jest, she smiled, too. “I’m serious, Banning. There’s a breeze tickling my bottom …”
“What,” he bellowed in mock outrage. “Nobody tickles your bottom but me, sweetheart.” And with that, he dipped a shoulder and in two seconds had hoisted her until she was hanging down his back with her legs flailing about. He wrapped them in his arm and smacked her butt. “Be still or I might drop you.”
“Edward! My god! Be serious and put me down,” she yelped.
He did no such thing, marching them into the house, and even stopping to secure the patio doors, then headed straight for the living room. Dumping her into an unladylike sprawl on the enormous sectional, he pretended not to notice her sputtering with a tongue-firmly-in-cheek smirk.
“I think we need an Irish coffee. Warm us up. You turn on the fireplace,” he told her as he pushed the smart home pad into her hands. “So what’s your pleasure, sweetheart? Unleaded Baileys or full power Jameson?”
She harrumphed for good measure but started working the tech device. My word but he was bossy sometimes. “I’m not driving, so Jameson’s fine for me, thanks.”
He started to walk away but stopped and turned back around. “I’d offer you a hoodie for warmth, but that’d deprive me of staring at your pretty nipples.” His half-embarrassed shrug made him look like a little boy who just got caught with his dad’s nudie magazines.
“I’ll survive your brutish ways," she quipped. “But don’t think I’m not telling your mom how mean you are.”
“I’ll dial the phone.”
Paige stood and threw the controller onto the sofa. “You. Kitchen. Coffee. Now,” she commanded with her finger pointing the way. “I gotta pee.”
“Oh, that’s nice, Miss Turner. Thanks for sharing,” he hollered after her as she scooted into the half bath behind the kitchen.
“I’ll be damned,” Edward muttered out loud. “These look pretty good to me.”
On the counter sat two beautifully prepared Irish coffees and a small plate of vanilla biscotti he’d picked up at the farmer’s market. He didn’t doubt that Paige knew full well that he’d deliberately defused the sexual tension with the coffee suggestion so she could catch her breath. Him, too, if he were being honest.
It wasn’t hard to imagine what she was thinking. She was being pretty transparent, and he was a couple of steps ahead of her having already picked apart the friends versus lovers scenario.
They hadn’t just met. Tonight might have been a first date, but their friendship was already well into the deep and meaningful territory. They didn’t have to wonder if they were compatible because they already knew. The great unknown was what happened to that closeness after they became lovers. He had quite a lot to say about the subject—so, coffee it was.
He found her on the sofa, her legs tucked under her bottom, both arms on the cushioned back with her head lying sideways on top, as she looked toward the windows. Her hair was down, her feet bare. All she had on was a slinky dress with no bra. She’d had a thong on before. He knew this from their tickle attack on the sofa at her house. Whether she still wore it was a mystery he hoped to solve.
“High octane, as requested.”
When she turned from the window, her pensive look reminded Edward that she was an uncommon treasure. A rare find. He knew for sure that he’d only be happy if she were in his life. Permanently.
“Thanks.”
He joined her on the sofa draping an arm across the back so he’d be able to touch her back and shoulders. The silence deepened while they sat side by side, sipping the fragrant, intoxicating drink. She said nothing, but he could hear her mind working.
“Back to Samantha, Troy, and their shitty example of a relationship.”
She arched a brow as she sipped.
“Look, I like both of them, but let’s be honest. Those two were shitheads from the start.”
“Humph.” Her head nodded infinitesimally, but the agreement came across loud and clear.
“Now that you’ve brought it up, I also have to wonder if it’s possible to go from sex partner to friend. Hormones would always cloud the picture, you know?”
They sipped in silence. He was making this shit up as he went along and was being extra careful to think through what he was saying.
“I knew a couple of years ago that fucking you was not an option.”
Okay, yeah. He had to admit he’d framed his statement that way to get a reaction out of her. He expected shock. Or outrage. What he got was all the color draining from her face and the sheen of tears sparkling in her eyes. Oh, fuck. My bad. Say the rest, you idiot!
Her hands were trembling—barely—but he noticed. Taking the coffee mug from her, he put it on the sofa table and drew her closer. She was stiff as a board and looking like he’d just ruined Santa Claus and Christmas forever.
“Don’t you wimp out on me now, Turner. You said you trusted me. Remember?”
She nodded. It was strange seeing her at a loss for words. At the same time, her strong reaction showed him how much she truly cared. Cradling her with an arm around her shoulders, Edward put his lips to her forehead.
“I knew this because an exchange of body fluid would never, ever be enough with you, Paige.” She looked up at the same time that he sought her eyes. “This … realization,” he grimaced at the clumsy word, but it fit so he had to suck it up, “was the first step to admitting I had deep feelings for you.”
“Oh.” She sounded surprised.
Edward smiled. Well, she better get used to hearing him say it.
“Let’s face it, babe. I can pretty much fuck anybody.” His shoulders rose and fell in a self-deprecating version of a shrug. “Ya get a certificate that says so when they name you sexiest man.”
True to form, she gasped in surprise at his sudden, comical conversational pivot and nudged him playfully with her shoulder. Time to lob a grenade and see if it took down her defenses.
“I want to make love to you, Paige. And I’ve never said that or felt this way before in my entire life. We’re making our own rules as we go, sweetheart. There’s no one I’d rather spend time with and yet tonight was our very first real date. Just like our not wanting the Gideon mess to fuck with what’s real between us, I don’t want you to have any doubt about how I feel. All of this,” he indicated with a wave that arced back and forth between them, “is a first for me. For you, too.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I have never told another man that I was in love with him.”
“I know. And I know why you told me so directly. I’m not shitting around here. You can test me all you want, but I’m telling you the truth. Fucking you isn’t an option, Paige, because nothing short of giving my heart to you as we make love would ever do. Not for us. This is huge, Paige. I love you. You love me. Yeah, the Gideon thing is a bit fucked up at the moment, but let’s not lose sight of what’s real.”
Her response? Priceless times a hundred. Never one to turn her back on a good conversation, she didn’t say one word; just started undoing his tie with the intense concentration of a jet pilot on takeoff. When she had it pulled apart, she yanked until it slid from around his neck, and for a long minute, she sat there with it in her hands.
He wondered what she was thinking because he instantly came up with at least five ways the blue tie could come in handy. Did she have kinky fuckery fantasies? Or was she more the shy and reserved sort? God. He hoped not. But if she were, he’d be more than happy to help her overcome her insecurities.