“I like you.” I blurt the words out, flinching as they hit the air. Never ever show your cards first. “I don’t know what any of this means to you, but I do. I like you so much.”
“Typical.” He shakes his head, a smile stretching across his face.
“Typical?” I whisper, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I swear on my life, Lucas Deiss, if you’re trying to say every woman falls for you the moment you take her to bed, I’m going to push you out the window.”
“That sounds fair,” he says, still grinning. “But actually, I meant it was typical that you say you like me, when just the other day I told you I love you.”
His words hit like a bomb. One filled with glitter, stunning me and filling my vision with sparkly flecks. He can’t mean it, can he? Not like that. My eyes narrow as I take in his amusement.
“You didn’t want me, though,” I say. “Not like that.”
“I’ve always wanted you. But it was more important to keep you as a friend. I was scared of losing you.”
“And now?”
“I’m still scared,” he admits. “Phoebe was right to make the pact, you know. This could ruin everything.”
My heart races. “Should we stop?”
“Definitely.” Deiss slides me toward him by my waist and captures my mouth with his, kissing me until I’m pressing eagerly into him.
Breathless, I pull back. “Are we going to?”
He slays me with a grin. “Not a chance.”
CHAPTER 20
I don’t know how we forget that Simone spent the night. Maybe we’re distracted by the strangeness of waking up in each other’s arms. Or maybe the real distraction is that it feels so right. My pulse quickens as Deiss takes me in, studying me in the watery morning light like he’s unsure how I’ve appeared in his bed. I feel a flair of panic that this is it, that this is where we pretend last night was a drunken mistake. But then he smiles and traces a trail of kisses across my shoulder before pulling me under him.
“I’m not making your coffee,” I say firmly, after we’ve made love and he’s trailing me toward the door, his arms wrapped around my waist. “I only make it for you because you always order dinner, but you haven’t provided that service in two days.”
“Please make me coffee,” he murmurs into my ear. “I promise to take you out tonight to make up for the neglect.”
A smile stretches across my face, so wide I’m grateful he can’t see it. Deiss might not mean it like a date, but I can’t help hearing it that way. I can’t believe I’ve slept with someone without having first established a committed relationship. But there’s been a lot of stuff over the last couple of weeks that I can’t believe I’ve done, and while I can’t exactly claim it’s worked out, it has been exciting.
“I can’t.” Somehow, I manage to wipe the disappointment from my words. I do have plans, so I’m not trying to play hard to get, but there’s no reason to let him know I’d love to fashion myself into a backpack and dangle from his shoulders for the rest of my life. “I’m going home for tea with my mom.”
Behind me, he’s quiet. I reach for the doorknob.
“Can I come?” He says the words softly, but they still make me freeze. “I’d love to meet her.”
My fingers fall from the metal knob and I turn slowly to face him, his grip around my waist keeping him close enough that I have to look up into his face. My bare legs brush against the jeans he’s pulled on from the floor. “You want to meet my mom?”
Deiss nods.
“It’s a three-hour drive,” I say. “Each way.”
“We can make small talk,” he says with a lazy grin. “We’re good at that.”
This time, I can’t hide my smile.
“Okay,” I say, spinning back toward the door before he can be blinded by its full wattage. “We’ll go on a road trip.”
I swing the door open, and the smile falls from my face. Simone is sitting on the far end of the couch, facing us. Her legs are triangled under her arms like she’s trying to ride out an earthquake. Her face is one hundred percent betrayal. It makes my stomach clench, and I pull loose from Deiss’s grip, dismayed that we’ve managed to be so careless. Nervously, I wrap my arms across my chest, wishing I was wearing a baggy t-shirt instead of this skimpy tank top. At least I’m wearing a shirt, though. Deiss’s chest is guiltily bare.