The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 54
“No. I think I know my own mirror image when I see him.” Bryan huffed an amused laugh, but didn’t advance any closer.
“You should take the DNA test, then we’ll talk about setting up a schedule.”
His frown returned. “A schedule?”
“Yes. For you and Patrick.” I faltered, finding the words difficult to say. “Once you take the test, we can have the solicitors work out the details.”
Bryan stiffened, and scowled, rocking backward on his heels. “Solicitors? Why would we use solicitors?”
His defensive posturing actually made me feel more at ease. “It’s for your benefit, Bryan. To make sure your rights are protected. I know you-you’ve missed out on the first years of Patrick’s life, and that’s my fault. You should talk to a lawyer and discuss your options.”
God, that was painful to say.
But it was also the right thing to do.
Bryan’s eyes flickered over me, assessing, deliberating. Abruptly, he said, “What do you want?”
I answered without hesitation. “I want what’s best for Patrick.”
A small smile hovered over his lips and behind his eyes. “I do, too,” he said softly, taking another half step toward me. “But that’s not what I meant. What do you want?”
My eyelashes fluttered of their own accord, betraying my confusion. “What do you mean?”
“What’s best for you, Eilish?” he whispered, his gaze blazing a trail from my forehead to my chin, again coming to rest on my lips. “Who’s taking care of you?”
“I am.” Again, I responded without hesitation, a tremor of unease running down my spine.
“Really?” he drawled, biting his bottom lip and drawing it between his teeth in a distracting movement. “You can’t take care of all your needs.”
“Yes, I can.” The tremor became something else—steel and resolve—and whatever sexy, voodoo spell Bryan had been so expertly weaving with his tiny towel and chiseled abdominal muscles and handsome face and love for my son quickly vanished.
Bryan’s smirk returned, and quite abruptly I no longer felt flustered by his proximity. Standing up for myself while putting my foot down was an art I’d mastered over the course of my childhood.
With his eyes on my lips, he placed a hand on the locker behind my head, caging me in on one side. “I’d like to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said flatly, drawing a wider grin from his gorgeous mouth.
“Let me rephrase that. I’d love to help.” His gaze drifted back to mine and held, his meaning clear as he whispered, “I’m desperate to help.”
Really?
REALLY?
My cheeks were red again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
“What are you proposing?” I ground out, irritated with the small part of myself that wasn’t angry, the small part that was wondering if I could install a stripper pole in my bedroom before the weekend. It was also excited and completely on board with the idea of Bryan lending desperate help.
But mostly I was angry. Even worse, I’d skipped lunch, so I was both hungry and angry. Or hangry. Because, really? We had a child together—a child he didn’t remember making—and now he . . . what? Wanted to hook up?
What. The. Hell?
“I could help you relax.” He trailed a finger down the side of my throat to my collarbone, sending traitorous goose pimples racing over my skin, and he leaned closer, his big frame making me feel petite. “I could make you feel good . . .” He bent his head, brushing his cheek against mine. “So good.”
I swallowed stiffly as he placed a scorching kiss on my neck. Actually, it wasn’t scorching. It was butterfly light, but it burned like a brand.
Bryan lifted his head and our eyes tangled. His were dark with desire and the moment gave me an intense feeling of déjà vu. I could taste his minty breath, the warmth radiating from his bare skin. My heart betrayed me, racing like a lunatic. My hormones also betrayed me, heat and heaviness pooling and twisting low in my belly.
But my brain didn’t betray me.
It knew better.
It remembered being forgotten.
“No, thank you,” I said, slowly and carefully through gritted teeth.
Bryan’s eyes twinkled as they moved between mine. “No, thank you?”
“Thanks for the offer, Bryan. But I assure you, if I required assistance in that department, you would be the last person I’d ask.”
“Oh really?” He looked amused, delighted, gazing down at me with a big, cheeky grin and a devilish glint.
“Yes.”
“And why is that?” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
I scowled at him, knowing I needed to make a choice. Should I make something up? Bluster my way through this? Or should I be honest? Allow myself to be vulnerable to this man who’d rejected me?
Except, I didn’t want anything from him. Not really. Other than for him to be a good father to our son and to be fair in his dealings with me.
Being an adult, I decided to go with honesty.
But, being a petty adult, I decided to go with brutal honesty.
“Because I’m not so sure you’d remember me the next morning.”
Bryan flinched, the amusement falling from his face as his eyes moved between mine searchingly. “Eilish,” he breathed, a frown of concentration wrinkling his forehead. “I’m not that person anymore.”
“You should take the DNA test, then we’ll talk about setting up a schedule.”
His frown returned. “A schedule?”
“Yes. For you and Patrick.” I faltered, finding the words difficult to say. “Once you take the test, we can have the solicitors work out the details.”
Bryan stiffened, and scowled, rocking backward on his heels. “Solicitors? Why would we use solicitors?”
His defensive posturing actually made me feel more at ease. “It’s for your benefit, Bryan. To make sure your rights are protected. I know you-you’ve missed out on the first years of Patrick’s life, and that’s my fault. You should talk to a lawyer and discuss your options.”
God, that was painful to say.
But it was also the right thing to do.
Bryan’s eyes flickered over me, assessing, deliberating. Abruptly, he said, “What do you want?”
I answered without hesitation. “I want what’s best for Patrick.”
A small smile hovered over his lips and behind his eyes. “I do, too,” he said softly, taking another half step toward me. “But that’s not what I meant. What do you want?”
My eyelashes fluttered of their own accord, betraying my confusion. “What do you mean?”
“What’s best for you, Eilish?” he whispered, his gaze blazing a trail from my forehead to my chin, again coming to rest on my lips. “Who’s taking care of you?”
“I am.” Again, I responded without hesitation, a tremor of unease running down my spine.
“Really?” he drawled, biting his bottom lip and drawing it between his teeth in a distracting movement. “You can’t take care of all your needs.”
“Yes, I can.” The tremor became something else—steel and resolve—and whatever sexy, voodoo spell Bryan had been so expertly weaving with his tiny towel and chiseled abdominal muscles and handsome face and love for my son quickly vanished.
Bryan’s smirk returned, and quite abruptly I no longer felt flustered by his proximity. Standing up for myself while putting my foot down was an art I’d mastered over the course of my childhood.
With his eyes on my lips, he placed a hand on the locker behind my head, caging me in on one side. “I’d like to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said flatly, drawing a wider grin from his gorgeous mouth.
“Let me rephrase that. I’d love to help.” His gaze drifted back to mine and held, his meaning clear as he whispered, “I’m desperate to help.”
Really?
REALLY?
My cheeks were red again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
“What are you proposing?” I ground out, irritated with the small part of myself that wasn’t angry, the small part that was wondering if I could install a stripper pole in my bedroom before the weekend. It was also excited and completely on board with the idea of Bryan lending desperate help.
But mostly I was angry. Even worse, I’d skipped lunch, so I was both hungry and angry. Or hangry. Because, really? We had a child together—a child he didn’t remember making—and now he . . . what? Wanted to hook up?
What. The. Hell?
“I could help you relax.” He trailed a finger down the side of my throat to my collarbone, sending traitorous goose pimples racing over my skin, and he leaned closer, his big frame making me feel petite. “I could make you feel good . . .” He bent his head, brushing his cheek against mine. “So good.”
I swallowed stiffly as he placed a scorching kiss on my neck. Actually, it wasn’t scorching. It was butterfly light, but it burned like a brand.
Bryan lifted his head and our eyes tangled. His were dark with desire and the moment gave me an intense feeling of déjà vu. I could taste his minty breath, the warmth radiating from his bare skin. My heart betrayed me, racing like a lunatic. My hormones also betrayed me, heat and heaviness pooling and twisting low in my belly.
But my brain didn’t betray me.
It knew better.
It remembered being forgotten.
“No, thank you,” I said, slowly and carefully through gritted teeth.
Bryan’s eyes twinkled as they moved between mine. “No, thank you?”
“Thanks for the offer, Bryan. But I assure you, if I required assistance in that department, you would be the last person I’d ask.”
“Oh really?” He looked amused, delighted, gazing down at me with a big, cheeky grin and a devilish glint.
“Yes.”
“And why is that?” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
I scowled at him, knowing I needed to make a choice. Should I make something up? Bluster my way through this? Or should I be honest? Allow myself to be vulnerable to this man who’d rejected me?
Except, I didn’t want anything from him. Not really. Other than for him to be a good father to our son and to be fair in his dealings with me.
Being an adult, I decided to go with honesty.
But, being a petty adult, I decided to go with brutal honesty.
“Because I’m not so sure you’d remember me the next morning.”
Bryan flinched, the amusement falling from his face as his eyes moved between mine searchingly. “Eilish,” he breathed, a frown of concentration wrinkling his forehead. “I’m not that person anymore.”
