Hero
Page 54
“Because …” Just say it. Be honest. Or at least somewhat honest. “I don’t know where I am with you. You can’t have it both ways, Caine. You can’t be distant with me, sneak out because sex got a little intense, ignore me, and then get pissed at me when I react in turn.”
He looked away. “This is just sex, Lexie,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I know that.” Boy, did I know that. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t react the way we want to, be who we are … I feel like you’re constantly pushing and pulling because you’re uncomfortable with how things go down between us sometimes.” I stepped toward him tentatively. “I just want you to be you. No pressure. And I’ll be me. I feel like you’re trying so hard to prove that this is just sex that it’s making this even more complicated. I want to uncomplicate it.”
“How?”
I gave a huff of resigned laughter. “For whatever reason I like you, Caine. I’d quite like it when we’re not having sex if we could be friends. No expectations, I promise.” Just hope.
He raised his eyebrows, looking adorably confused. “Friends?”
“Mmm.” I smirked. “You know … friends.”
“With benefits?”
“Exactly.”
After a few seconds of silence, Caine finally gave me a hesitant nod. “Friends.”
I smiled. “I should warn you, though, that I’m a smart-ass to my friends.”
“Oh, well, then I guess we’ve been friends since you first walked through my door.” As he rounded his desk to his chair, he threw me a grin that sent my heart racing off in a gallop.
My whole being lit up at Caine’s sudden transformation. Before, he’d been on edge because of my mood, but now he was relaxed in a way I rarely saw from him.
Yes. No expectations … but God, I had a lot of hope.
CHAPTER 17
“What’s your favorite color?”
I heard the whisper of Caine’s movement against my pillow as he turned his head to look at me. “My what?” he said, bemused.
After a few days of no sex and some major anticipation, I’d given Caine the all-clear for resumption of the fun stuff that Thursday morning. He’d appeared at my apartment a few hours after work and we’d gone at each other as though we hadn’t had each other in years.
Relaxed, I lay beside him on my bed, my arms flung above my head in postcoital satisfaction, and decided it was time to ease him into the whole getting-to-know-each-other thing. “What’s your favorite color?” I repeated.
“What’s your favorite color?”
I looked at him and saw his mouth was curled up at the corners in amusement. I liked this side of him, this playful, boyish side that peeked out at me sometimes. “Purple. Now yours?”
“I don’t have a favorite color.”
I frowned. “Everyone has a favorite color.”
“I don’t.”
“You must at least have a color that you’re partial to more than other colors.”
He grunted. “Wouldn’t that be the same thing as having a favorite color?”
I stopped and resaid it in my head. I giggled at the realization he was right.
Caine gave a huff of laughter, but I wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook. I rolled to my side to face him, resting my head in my hand. “Okay, let your mind go blank.”
His gaze moved over my naked chest. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
I rolled my eyes. “Try.”
“Okay.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Now what?”
“What is the first color that comes to mind?”
“Yellow,” Caine blurted out, and then immediately scowled for some unknown reason.
“Yellow?” I grinned. “That’s definitely a surprising color, but we’ll go with it. Your favorite color is yellow. What’s your favorite movie? And don’t say you don’t have one, because I’ve seen your DVD collection.”
Caine raised an eyebrow. “Has someone been snooping?”
“No.”
If anything his eyebrows rose to greater heights.
“Fine,” I huffed. “I snooped in your DVD cabinet.”
To my surprise and gratitude he didn’t say anything else about that. Instead he said, “Seven Samurai.”
I attempted to mask my shock that he’d offered the answer so easily. “What’s it about?”
I watched, fascinated, as Caine moved onto his side so we were facing each other. There was interest and light in his eyes. “It’s this Japanese movie made in the fifties and it’s about these seven down-on-their luck samurai who are hired by this poor farming village to defend them against marauders. The battles scenes are some of the best in cinematic history—for its time it just … It’s fantastic. It’s real, though—it’s got grit and heart. It’s a great movie.”
I brushed my fingers along his forearm. “Do you have it?”
“I do.”
“Maybe we can watch it sometime.”
Caine’s gaze roamed over my face. “I think you’ll like it.”
I took that as a yes to us watching the movie together and hid a smile. “Favorite band?”
“You didn’t tell me what your favorite movie was.”
“That’s easy. Gone With the Wind. Although I could slap Scarlett silly for most of the movie. I mean, who would ever choose Ashley over Rhett?”
He looked away. “This is just sex, Lexie,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I know that.” Boy, did I know that. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t react the way we want to, be who we are … I feel like you’re constantly pushing and pulling because you’re uncomfortable with how things go down between us sometimes.” I stepped toward him tentatively. “I just want you to be you. No pressure. And I’ll be me. I feel like you’re trying so hard to prove that this is just sex that it’s making this even more complicated. I want to uncomplicate it.”
“How?”
I gave a huff of resigned laughter. “For whatever reason I like you, Caine. I’d quite like it when we’re not having sex if we could be friends. No expectations, I promise.” Just hope.
He raised his eyebrows, looking adorably confused. “Friends?”
“Mmm.” I smirked. “You know … friends.”
“With benefits?”
“Exactly.”
After a few seconds of silence, Caine finally gave me a hesitant nod. “Friends.”
I smiled. “I should warn you, though, that I’m a smart-ass to my friends.”
“Oh, well, then I guess we’ve been friends since you first walked through my door.” As he rounded his desk to his chair, he threw me a grin that sent my heart racing off in a gallop.
My whole being lit up at Caine’s sudden transformation. Before, he’d been on edge because of my mood, but now he was relaxed in a way I rarely saw from him.
Yes. No expectations … but God, I had a lot of hope.
CHAPTER 17
“What’s your favorite color?”
I heard the whisper of Caine’s movement against my pillow as he turned his head to look at me. “My what?” he said, bemused.
After a few days of no sex and some major anticipation, I’d given Caine the all-clear for resumption of the fun stuff that Thursday morning. He’d appeared at my apartment a few hours after work and we’d gone at each other as though we hadn’t had each other in years.
Relaxed, I lay beside him on my bed, my arms flung above my head in postcoital satisfaction, and decided it was time to ease him into the whole getting-to-know-each-other thing. “What’s your favorite color?” I repeated.
“What’s your favorite color?”
I looked at him and saw his mouth was curled up at the corners in amusement. I liked this side of him, this playful, boyish side that peeked out at me sometimes. “Purple. Now yours?”
“I don’t have a favorite color.”
I frowned. “Everyone has a favorite color.”
“I don’t.”
“You must at least have a color that you’re partial to more than other colors.”
He grunted. “Wouldn’t that be the same thing as having a favorite color?”
I stopped and resaid it in my head. I giggled at the realization he was right.
Caine gave a huff of laughter, but I wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook. I rolled to my side to face him, resting my head in my hand. “Okay, let your mind go blank.”
His gaze moved over my naked chest. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
I rolled my eyes. “Try.”
“Okay.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Now what?”
“What is the first color that comes to mind?”
“Yellow,” Caine blurted out, and then immediately scowled for some unknown reason.
“Yellow?” I grinned. “That’s definitely a surprising color, but we’ll go with it. Your favorite color is yellow. What’s your favorite movie? And don’t say you don’t have one, because I’ve seen your DVD collection.”
Caine raised an eyebrow. “Has someone been snooping?”
“No.”
If anything his eyebrows rose to greater heights.
“Fine,” I huffed. “I snooped in your DVD cabinet.”
To my surprise and gratitude he didn’t say anything else about that. Instead he said, “Seven Samurai.”
I attempted to mask my shock that he’d offered the answer so easily. “What’s it about?”
I watched, fascinated, as Caine moved onto his side so we were facing each other. There was interest and light in his eyes. “It’s this Japanese movie made in the fifties and it’s about these seven down-on-their luck samurai who are hired by this poor farming village to defend them against marauders. The battles scenes are some of the best in cinematic history—for its time it just … It’s fantastic. It’s real, though—it’s got grit and heart. It’s a great movie.”
I brushed my fingers along his forearm. “Do you have it?”
“I do.”
“Maybe we can watch it sometime.”
Caine’s gaze roamed over my face. “I think you’ll like it.”
I took that as a yes to us watching the movie together and hid a smile. “Favorite band?”
“You didn’t tell me what your favorite movie was.”
“That’s easy. Gone With the Wind. Although I could slap Scarlett silly for most of the movie. I mean, who would ever choose Ashley over Rhett?”
