Headstrong (24 page)

Libby nodded, only fractionally comforted.

After forty minutes’ soggy walk, they reached the pub. Pep talk aside, Libby had grown more anxious with each block, and when she spotted the light coming through the front windows, her stomach turned.

Colin gave her a fortifying clap on the back. “Come on. Don’t worry about him.”

He grabbed her wrist as he pushed the door open and wheeled his bike inside, and it was probably a wise move—Libby wouldn’t have put it past herself to make a last-ditch run for it. Instead she let Colin tug her into the warm, dry, murmuring calm of this now-familiar place.

Reece was behind the bar, and his eyes flicked from the television to the pair of them as the door swung closed. Unsure of what else to do, Libby raised a hand in lame greeting. He raised one back.

Colin turned to her. “Go on up. Find some quality shit on the telly. Just give me a tick.”

Reece leaned on the bar, watching Colin send Libby up the stairs before he propped his bike beside the jukebox. His face was unreadable as he approached.

Reece kept his voice blasé. “All right?”

Colin fixed him with a pair of irritated eyes and sat down. “No thanks to you.”

“Be fair.”

“I don’t know exactly what you did tonight, but you messed her up.” He nodded toward the door to the flat. “And I’m the one who went after her to make it right.”

“There’s nothing to make right, mate. We didn’t do anything she didn’t
insist
she wanted to. And I’m sorry she’s upset—”

“Not sorry enough,” Colin cut in.

“Well she didn’t even tell me. Why does this have to be a big deal? She’s back now.”

“Because that girl is good for our family,” Colin said. “And not just because of the money. The best thing for it in years. Better than you coming back, even. Not that I’m not glad you did,” he added in a somewhat insincere tone.

“Watch it.”

Colin closed his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t even know what you have.”

“Yeah, I do actually. It’s not what you think, and it’s not my secret to tell. It’s weird and you wouldn’t understand. Me and her…we’re not
that way
. I’m trying to help her figure some things out and it’s complicated. I’m not surprised she’s getting all emotional, but trust me—she doesn’t want a big deal made of it. She needs to work it out for herself.”

Colin drummed his fingers on the bar, then rose with a face hardened by exasperation or disbelief. “You’re blind.” With that, he abandoned the argument and headed for the steps.

Reece let out a silent breath, cleared his mind as best he could and turned back to the match.

Libby had failed to find them a movie to watch. Colin was camped at the other end of the couch, staring at the rugby with the kind of involuntary investment men seemed disposed to, absently peeling the wrapper off the candy cane she’d given him. They’d been quiet in the hour since retiring to the flat, and she’d calmed. He was right—the Band-Aid approach had been painful but brief. She’d blush the next time she ran into Reece, but she’d live to tell the tale.

She looked to Colin. “Did you know you’ve got a reputation?” she asked, apropos of nothing. “With the local ladies?”

He took his gaze off the screen and gave her a look of cautious amusement. He shrugged. “Doesn’t take much around here. Welly’s a village disguised as a big city.”

“Did you
know
?”

“You’re making me sound like the town bicycle.” He frowned, feigning offense. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re known for more than kissing, apparently.”

“Hey now, watch your filthy mouth.” Colin’s cheeks colored, and he looked to be biting back a smile. “A reputation doesn’t mean anything, anyway. I mean, look at you. You’ve probably got one, and I’ve never seen
you
earning it. In fact, I seem to recall being forcibly wedged between you and a few eager suitors.”

“Come on, tell me. Is it true?”

“My lips are sealed.” He raised his eyebrows and drew his tongue around the candy cane in an outrageously lurid manner.

Joke or not, Libby felt a strange energy flash shoot through her body. She laughed to hide her unease.

They fell back into staring at the television, but she found herself distracted in an unwelcome way. She thought about what Colin had said, about getting what she could from Reece and being happy with it. Then she thought about Colin himself, about the possibility of
being
with someone like Colin, that way. Scary. What she’d done with Reece, that was sex with training wheels, slow and cautious and completely in her control. Sex with a man like Colin would be the big leagues in comparison, if his charisma was anything to judge by. So how come other girls could throw themselves at the opportunity, yet Libby’d been deflecting Colin’s flirtations for weeks now, secretly scared shitless by such an offer?

Libby pondered what Colin had said about her own supposed status as a sexual tigress, a small revelation dawning on her. For all his opportunities, and despite his rep and the sheer up-for-it-ness that oozed from his body, she’d never seen Colin so much as
kiss
a girl since she’d met him. She hadn’t seen him full-on flirt or chat a woman up, nor had she overheard him on the phone with one. He was either some kind of stealthy, undetectable ninja of a ladies’ man, or else it wasn’t an earned reputation. Or perhaps her presence on their couch most nights was cramping his style… Or maybe Libby understood as little about Colin and his motives as he did hers.

Libby pointed with her candy cane. “What’s your tattoo? The one on your neck.”

Colin pulled down the collar of his T-shirt to expose the skin. Ornate black script lettering ran below his Adam’s apple, and at first Libby thought it was Arabic or some other beautiful, unfamiliar language. But on closer inspection, it was written backward, like a reflection.

She squinted at it. “America?”

He smiled, eyebrows knitting skeptically. “Try again.”

She squinted harder. “Amelia.” Her stomach did a little flip.

“Got it in two.” He smoothed his collar back in place.

“Who’s Amelia?”

“She’s a friend of mine who died.”

Libby’s mood wilted further. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s been a long time.”

“Why backward?”

Colin’s eyes moved to the TV. “So every time I look at myself in the mirror, I remember I’m supposed to be trying to live my life well enough to make her proud.”

“That’s sweet.”

He shrugged. Libby suspected he
knew
she
was no good with sentimentality and was trying to spare her the discomfort of having to appear earnest. Smart boy.

“Does it work?” she asked.

He frowned, then turned to meet her eyes. “Yeah, sometimes. Most of the time.”

“And yet you still don’t wear a helmet.”

Colin smiled and shoved her knee with his own to tell her to give it a rest. She wasn’t half as good at intuiting emotions as he was, but she could still sense he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. His face had taken on a sad quality.

“You know,” he murmured a little while later. “If I could make Reece feel something for you, I would.”

Libby had to work fast to tramp down the pain this statement triggered. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a stupid crush.”

“Yeah.” He stared at the screen.

Libby remembered the previous week’s disastrous party, and how Colin had said he deserved all the abuse he’d had hurled at him. She wondered about this Amelia, if she was the woman who’d come between him and the angry man. She watched Colin’s face, weary with a dozen somber emotions, and the vulnerability emanating from him tugged something hard inside her. She couldn’t be sure where the impulse came from, but she reached her hands out to touch either side of his jaw, pushing up her thumbs to force the corners of his mouth into a smile.

“That’s better,” she said in the most soft and sincere tone of voice she’d managed in years.

Colin turned and put his own large, warm hands over her smaller, cooler ones and held them there. The sad expression he wore flickered then redoubled, and his eyes closed. He nuzzled his face against her palms in some breed of surrender, and Libby softened further. She wasn’t someone who comforted people, but she very much wanted to do something to ease the pain that this man—possibly her best friend on the planet—seemed to be going through.

She stroked the pads of her thumbs over Colin’s cheeks, and the eyes that opened to gaze into hers were different. In the dim, spasmodic light of the television they looked uncertain and fiery.

Her smile faded. “Colin.”

He shifted in a way she could sense, a change that both frightened and fascinated her. As he leaned in closer, Libby pulled back, fearing he was about to try to kiss her.

He didn’t. Instead she watched, helpless to do anything else, as he ran her hand across the faint stubble of his chin. A silent gasp escaped from her lips as Colin parted his own, sliding her thumb between them, his hot, wet mouth closing over her skin, gently sucking as his eyes closed tight. Libby was too shocked to move as he took her other thumb. His hands held her own as a single tear slid down his cheek and disappeared between her fingers. Only when his eyes opened and met hers did the panic mount so potently that she found herself able to protest.

Her hands twitched. Colin’s mouth released her, slow but obedient, teeth grazing her knuckles. Libby clutched her fists in front of her heart. Her gaze darted all over him, and she noticed his body, as if for the first time. Strong and dangerous. Her pulse hammered and she wanted to run all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Colin murmured, sounding as if he were apologizing for much more than just this.

Libby managed to whisper, “I should get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” His hands were still hovering between their faces. He moved them, fingertips settling in the hair just above her ears. Again, she feared his kiss, but he merely pressed his lips to her forehead. He rested them there, waiting, his breaths coming warm and deep and fast against her skin.

“I don’t feel that way about you,” Libby whispered.

“I know.” He swallowed. “I know your heart belongs to my brother.”

“He doesn’t want it.” As she said it, Libby felt curiosity taking control. She wanted answers, and here they were in front of her for the taking. “But you.
You
want me.”

His lips slid to her temple. “Of course I do.”

“You want to kiss me.”

“I want so much more than that.”

“You want to…
be
with me,” she said.

“So bloody bad it hurts.”

She was playing a reckless game, but for the moment her desperation trumped her nerves. “I need to hear that,” she murmured.

Colin’s thumbs traced the curves of her ears then his lips against her hairline whispered, “I want to give myself to you so good that no other man will ever be able to make you forget it.”

Libby started.

His voice fell to her ear, words steaming hot. “I want to give it to you so deep and so thick that any other man inside you after me will only make you feel more empty.”

Libby froze. Her body seized with that familiar fear Colin roused in her whenever he didn’t hide his sexuality. At the same time, she was transfixed by what he was saying—everything she wanted from Reece but couldn’t have. Words more potent than mere dirty talk could ever hope to be.

“You think you can do that?” she breathed against his neck.

“I know I can. And so do you.”

She swallowed. “You might be surprised how little I know—”

They froze as the door before them rattled, the way it always did when the one at the bottom of the stairs was opened. Libby looked to the clock. One eighteen.

Colin’s hands dropped from Libby’s face, and he rose, running a palm over the back of his neck.

“Colin—”

“Good night, Libby.”

Footsteps started up the steps.

“Thank you. For coming after me.”

He nodded.

“And Colin,” she added, watching the door.

He glanced back over his shoulder at her with weary eyes. “Yeah?”

“Don’t…please don’t tell your brother,” she whispered. “You know—that we talked like this.”

He turned to walk to his room, and she couldn’t see his expression as he murmured, “Of course not.”

Chapter Thirteen

Get your shit together,
Libby commanded herself.
This is pathetic.

She peeled her butt off the couch and drank a glass of water over the kitchen sink, trying to formulate a plan of action for the day. The previous evening, which had started out so promising, had turned into one of the most disheartening and depressing ones she could remember, despite Colin’s rescue mission. Their interaction afterward had thrown her…and it was her own fault. Everything that had started going so massively wrong lately was her own damn fault.

Perhaps it was best to get to work and put some distance between herself and all this…complexity. Get back to simpler things, like biochemical analysis. She had lab results to collect and research to type up. That would be a good project to pour her attention into. It was the whole freaking reason Libby was here, technically. It would serve her right if her visa extension got denied. And she’d check the forecast too, see if the breakers were supposed to be good that afternoon.

As she rounded the corner to head back into the living room, Libby bumped into Colin. Quite literally. Quite half-nakedly. Her nose nearly collided with his chin and the sudden closeness was like an incapacitating punch in the gut, or perhaps just a bit farther south.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back, echoing his apology from the previous evening.

“Sorry.” Libby’s eyes widened with surprise and genuinely seedy interest, her fear gone with the darkness, replaced with a heart-pounding curiosity.

If Reece’s body belonged to a ninja, then Colin’s was a boxer’s. He was bigger than his brother, built more like a wild animal than a tight, efficient machine. Libby let her eyes scan him from the neck to the waist, her view cut off by his pajama pants just where a vee of muscle dove from his hips downward. Colin’s body made perfect sense, delivering everything his smile promised. His sleeve tattoos started at his elbows and ran up his powerful arms, and the patterns Libby hadn’t been able to make out became clear. Birds—interlocking, dark-and-light patterns like Escher tessellations, starting small and intricate and growing larger until the details were decipherable at his shoulders.