The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 68
His gaze flickered over me, his eyebrows drawing together. “Boarding schools?”
“Yes.” He was very close, so I took a step back and away, turning to the antique French couch and took a seat. “I had a room here, for the summers. But this is may be the tenth time I’ve ever been in this room.”
“Huh.” Bryan nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still moving over me. “What was that like? Growing up in a boarding school?”
I shrugged, cradling one hand in the other on my lap. “Fine, I guess. I imagine it was like most schools, some people were nice, others were not.”
“Except, with most schools you go home at the end of the day. Not so with a boarding school.”
“We were all in the same boat, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“What boat is that?”
“You know.”
“How would I know?” He claimed the seat next to mine, sitting too close. Our thighs touched from hip to knee, but I couldn’t move. I was already pressed against the end of the sofa.
“Your father is a high court judge, right? I imagine he had expectations for you.”
Bryan chuckled, placed his arm on the back of the couch behind me and leaned forward, crowding me. “No. He didn’t have expectations of me.” His attention moved to my hair, and he tucked a loose strand behind my ear. “Once he divorced my mam, I hardly saw him. I didn’t hear from him for ten years, though he always sent us plenty of cash, but I guess he had to.”
“Why did he have to?”
“Court-ordered child and spousal support from their divorce settlement.”
“Oh,” was all I could say, because this topic felt like a minefield.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment as we studied each other.
What was he thinking? I couldn’t tell. We hadn’t talked about money, not in so many words, but I got the sense he wanted to contribute. I didn’t really know how to feel about that. Logically, I knew it made sense. Patrick was his son. Of course he wanted to contribute to raising him.
But illogically, I cringed at the thought. Bryan had been drunk that night. He’d blacked out. I’d been sober. He shouldn’t have to pay for a mistake he made while too intoxicated to remember.
Was he hoping I would bring up child support? Was he waiting for me to do it?
If so, he was going to wait a very long time. Probably forever. I’d rather take money from Sean than Bryan. How twisted was that?
Bryan’s gaze drifted to my lips and I stiffened, a seductive heat whispering over my skin.
Or is he thinking about what happened between us Friday night?
“Eilish—”
“Bryan—”
We both stopped, laughing a little and swapping amused smiles.
“Go ahead,” he said, his hand falling from the back of the couch to my shoulder, sliding along my collarbone to my neck. “You go first.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”
“Really?” He sounded pleased.
“I mean, I’m not glad either of us are here, but I’m glad to see you. I want to thank you for your clear head on Friday.”
He’d been sweeping his thumb lightly along the edge of my jaw but stopped at my words, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally.
I kept my voice even and reasonable, dropping my eyes to my lap, wanting to spell things out rationally and openly. “I think you were right to put a stop to things. Obviously, we are attracted to each other, on some level.”
“Some level?”
I ignored the teasing edge to his voice and continued. “I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing can happen between us. Patrick comes first, and complicating things by indulging said attraction would be a terrible mistake. We must—”
His hand tightened on my shoulder. “No.”
“What?” I lifted my gaze, surprised.
“I disagree.”
“You disagree?”
“Yes,” he said curtly, then leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my neck, whispering in my ear. “Nothing about you will ever be a mistake.”
I shivered as his hot breath spilled over the sensitive skin, tilting my head reflexively. “Bryan, you must see that we can’t—”
“No.” He tongued my ear, making me shiver again, my body tense, my thighs clenching. “You’re wrong. I’m attracted to you on every level. I want you, Eilish. I want you with every breath I take.”
“Wanting isn’t enough. Attraction isn’t enough. We have to be adults about this.” I moaned, likely negating the sensibleness of my words.
“Then let’s be adults.” Somehow, he made being adults sound positively wicked.
“You know what I mean.” I reached for him blindly, my eyelashes fluttering as I grabbed fistfuls of his dress shirt. His hand slid up my thigh, under my skirt, his touch light and demanding at the same time.
I was going to push him away.
I was.
I was.
I was.
. . . any minute now.
“Come out with me on a proper date. I’ll be good.” He dipped his head again, suckling my neck, his fingers beneath my skirt, digging into my backside as though he wanted to guide me to his lap, wanted me to straddle him. I flattened my palms against his chest, preparing to push him away, but Bryan leaned back before I could.
He held my face between both of his hands, ensnaring my gaze. “Give me a chance, Eilish. Please. We don’t have to say anything to Patrick. Giving me a chance changes nothing, I’m still his father, and you’re still his mother. What are you so afraid of?”
“Yes.” He was very close, so I took a step back and away, turning to the antique French couch and took a seat. “I had a room here, for the summers. But this is may be the tenth time I’ve ever been in this room.”
“Huh.” Bryan nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still moving over me. “What was that like? Growing up in a boarding school?”
I shrugged, cradling one hand in the other on my lap. “Fine, I guess. I imagine it was like most schools, some people were nice, others were not.”
“Except, with most schools you go home at the end of the day. Not so with a boarding school.”
“We were all in the same boat, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“What boat is that?”
“You know.”
“How would I know?” He claimed the seat next to mine, sitting too close. Our thighs touched from hip to knee, but I couldn’t move. I was already pressed against the end of the sofa.
“Your father is a high court judge, right? I imagine he had expectations for you.”
Bryan chuckled, placed his arm on the back of the couch behind me and leaned forward, crowding me. “No. He didn’t have expectations of me.” His attention moved to my hair, and he tucked a loose strand behind my ear. “Once he divorced my mam, I hardly saw him. I didn’t hear from him for ten years, though he always sent us plenty of cash, but I guess he had to.”
“Why did he have to?”
“Court-ordered child and spousal support from their divorce settlement.”
“Oh,” was all I could say, because this topic felt like a minefield.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment as we studied each other.
What was he thinking? I couldn’t tell. We hadn’t talked about money, not in so many words, but I got the sense he wanted to contribute. I didn’t really know how to feel about that. Logically, I knew it made sense. Patrick was his son. Of course he wanted to contribute to raising him.
But illogically, I cringed at the thought. Bryan had been drunk that night. He’d blacked out. I’d been sober. He shouldn’t have to pay for a mistake he made while too intoxicated to remember.
Was he hoping I would bring up child support? Was he waiting for me to do it?
If so, he was going to wait a very long time. Probably forever. I’d rather take money from Sean than Bryan. How twisted was that?
Bryan’s gaze drifted to my lips and I stiffened, a seductive heat whispering over my skin.
Or is he thinking about what happened between us Friday night?
“Eilish—”
“Bryan—”
We both stopped, laughing a little and swapping amused smiles.
“Go ahead,” he said, his hand falling from the back of the couch to my shoulder, sliding along my collarbone to my neck. “You go first.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”
“Really?” He sounded pleased.
“I mean, I’m not glad either of us are here, but I’m glad to see you. I want to thank you for your clear head on Friday.”
He’d been sweeping his thumb lightly along the edge of my jaw but stopped at my words, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally.
I kept my voice even and reasonable, dropping my eyes to my lap, wanting to spell things out rationally and openly. “I think you were right to put a stop to things. Obviously, we are attracted to each other, on some level.”
“Some level?”
I ignored the teasing edge to his voice and continued. “I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing can happen between us. Patrick comes first, and complicating things by indulging said attraction would be a terrible mistake. We must—”
His hand tightened on my shoulder. “No.”
“What?” I lifted my gaze, surprised.
“I disagree.”
“You disagree?”
“Yes,” he said curtly, then leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my neck, whispering in my ear. “Nothing about you will ever be a mistake.”
I shivered as his hot breath spilled over the sensitive skin, tilting my head reflexively. “Bryan, you must see that we can’t—”
“No.” He tongued my ear, making me shiver again, my body tense, my thighs clenching. “You’re wrong. I’m attracted to you on every level. I want you, Eilish. I want you with every breath I take.”
“Wanting isn’t enough. Attraction isn’t enough. We have to be adults about this.” I moaned, likely negating the sensibleness of my words.
“Then let’s be adults.” Somehow, he made being adults sound positively wicked.
“You know what I mean.” I reached for him blindly, my eyelashes fluttering as I grabbed fistfuls of his dress shirt. His hand slid up my thigh, under my skirt, his touch light and demanding at the same time.
I was going to push him away.
I was.
I was.
I was.
. . . any minute now.
“Come out with me on a proper date. I’ll be good.” He dipped his head again, suckling my neck, his fingers beneath my skirt, digging into my backside as though he wanted to guide me to his lap, wanted me to straddle him. I flattened my palms against his chest, preparing to push him away, but Bryan leaned back before I could.
He held my face between both of his hands, ensnaring my gaze. “Give me a chance, Eilish. Please. We don’t have to say anything to Patrick. Giving me a chance changes nothing, I’m still his father, and you’re still his mother. What are you so afraid of?”
