Off Kilter (23 page)

He went completely still, because her throat was still working, and there was definite emotion in her voice, if not her eyes. Her gaze was probing, serious, and almost laser-like as she looked at him, into him.

“I reach because those whose stories I’m telling can’t. I reach for the story. If there is anything personal or selfish, it’s reaching for things that will enable me to keep reaching for more. I don’t … I don’t reach for me. Personally. I … I just don’t.”

“You can reach here,” he said, continually humbled by her. He felt deeply inadequate at a time when he wanted most to be what she needed. “You can reach for me. I’m no’ going anywhere. Not now. No’ ever.”

She looked down, her shoulders tensing, her jaw rigid.

He stopped thinking, stopped analyzing, and went with his gut. He lifted her chin, then cupped her face with a gentle hand. “I lied about one thing,” he told her. “You do scare me. No’ your anger, no’ your pushiness, or your tougher than nails exterior. Your pain scares me. Your fear. Your past scares me. Mostly though, it’s not knowing how to be your friend that scares me. Because you do need one. I want to find a way to earn that friendship. I think it could be the most rewarding thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Why,” she choked out. “Why me? I’m a lousy friend, I’m—”

“Beautiful, smart, sharp, caring, giving, with a heart bigger than the world, which you’ve given completely to the world. You’re selfless, and you’re brave.”

“I’m smart-mouthed, and impatient, and bitchy, and—”

“Scared, and hurt, and human.” He looked into those eyes that had seen so much, wondering what could she see in his. What had he been thinking, to fool himself into believing that he, of all people, was going to have the magic elixir to make someone like her sit up and pay attention. To him. Of all the arrogance and—

“You see me,” she said, her tone one of awe.

His thoughts broke off right there, all but stuttering to a stop.

“Truly see me. Past all the bullshit, past all the”—she waved her hand—“and you just come out and say the most amazing things. The most blunt and direct things. You’re not afraid of me. You’re … I don’t know what you are, Roan McAuley. Savior, saint, or the devil come to take me.” She took a breath. “I do know you’re the one man I can’t get out of my mind.”

His heart stuttered along with his thoughts. Then started up again—in double time. “Probably because I dinnae leave ye be.”

“Precisely because you can’t leave me be. No one else would keep at it, keep at me. But you do. I don’t know if that makes you brave or a sadist.”

“I wouldn’t if I didn’t think there was something there,” he said. “I guess I was arrogant enough to think that my seeing past the hard front you put up was what set me apart. Was what you would notice. I couldn’t stop noticing you. But I wondered what someone like you could really see in someone like me. I’m—”

“Caring, and beautiful, sharp and smart, with a heart as big as this island, a loyal heart, and a strong mind, with a caring soul that would work till its last moment on earth to make the world around him a better place for the ones he cares about. And who so clearly care for him. You’re a very wealthy man,
Roan. Rich in ways I don’t know if I’ll ever be. You do scare me. Because I look at you, and I want what you have. So easily, so effortlessly. I feel … it makes me feel … broken. More than I already am. Like I can’t ever hope to get that, to have that, because it’s too sane and normal and nice. I’ve traveled too far, seen too much, to ever be able to have sane and normal and nice. People will look at me and know, somehow, that I’m none of those things, and so … I can’t let myself want you. That would be admitting I want it all. And I can’t have it. That’s not going to work for me. I don’t think I have it in me to reach and fail. I need to find a way to reach for the thing I know I won’t fail at, that I know how to do. And I only know how to do one thing. This is not it. It’s the opposite of this. Do you understand? Do you? I can’t reach, Roan. I
can’t.”

She took his face in her hands and she kissed him. But it wasn’t a conquering kiss, a dominant seduction, or a wrestling power play. It wasn’t even a submission, or a reaching for what could be. It was … a cry for help.

A cry for him.

I
f he would just kiss her back, she could lose herself in it, in the swamping waves of lust and want and need that he so effortlessly aroused in her with a mere wink of a dimple. If he would just kiss her back, she could shove away the terror of wanting and needing things she could never hope to achieve, never hope to own.

If he would just kiss her back.

Roan lifted his head, held her face to keep her from reaching for him again. “Tessa,” he said quietly, calmly. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes. Expecting to see him all serious and kind, she was surprised to find him smiling, his eyes twinkling with something that looked a lot like affection. She knew what that looked like, she’d taken pictures of a seemingly endless variety of it recently. At a wedding. She wondered what Roan would say if he knew she’d burned entire rolls of precious film on him and him alone. Painstakingly developed … then stared at for far longer than could be healthy. She’d captured a wide range of expressions on his face that day. But not one quite like the one she was looking at.

“Just kiss me,” she said with a plaintive note in her voice that she would beat herself up over later.

“I want to. More than you can possibly know. But you’re still just trying to drown yourself in it. Or maybe both of us. I
could drown in you. I just … I want you to kiss me, Tessa. Me.”

“Who the hell else do you think I’m kissing?” she said, not wanting any more of his armchair psychology at the moment. No matter that he’d been dead on—far too dead on—with each thing that he’d said. No one, not even Kira, understood her as that man seemingly did. How it was, she had no idea. But he did. And she was drawn to him like the proverbial moth to the flame.

The moth didn’t usually fare too well in that particular confluence of events, did it?

“You’re kissing me to not feel anything,” he said. “I want you to feel everything.”

“Oh, I’m feeling, trust me.” She was tempted to slide his hand down to the front of her shirt, so he could touch for himself just how much she was feeling him. Her nipples were like hard pebbles, rubbing against the silk of her bra. Instead she shrugged out of his warm embrace and the shelter of his arms and stepped back. Immediately she felt far more bereft than she’d ever felt before. If that didn’t scare her, nothing should. All the walls, all the defenses, all the shoving him away had been in vain. He’d slipped through to her most vulnerable places no matter what protective measures she employed. How did she defend against that?

“You just like to fix things, broken things,” she said, trying to make sense of it as much for herself as to push him away. “You’re compelled because you want to fix me.”

“If that was true then why didn’t I try to fix Kira?”

Tessa had turned away from him, her arms wrapped protectively about her waist. She whipped back around to look at him. “Don’t you dare say anything against—”

“I’m not going to say anything against her, far from it. It’s no secret that she was definitely not whole and happy when she came back, and yet I did with her what I am trying to find enough patience to do with you. I became her friend. Not to fix
her, but because she could use one. I told myself that when the time was right, I’d let her know I was interested in maybe finding out if there could be more. It was just a normal attraction where the timing wasn’t the greatest. I didn’t befriend her to fix her, or to up my ante with her. I’m not calculating, Tessa.”

“So why can’t you just be a friend to me, then?”

“I thought I could, but I canno’ separate one from the other, no’ with you. It’s so glaringly clear to me now, that whatever attraction I had for Kira wasn’t … enough.” He took a step closer and for the first time, she saw a bit of temper and impatience come into his eyes. “I sat back for a year, Tessa, more than a
year
… and did nothing.”

“You befriended her. Hardly nothing.”

“I was content with that, content with biding my time. I can’t do that with you. I can’t last a single day just being your friend. I want more, I want everything. I can’t help it, I can’t stop it, and I can’t want our relationship to be anything less than everything it can be—whatever that is or might be. I’m compelled to do something about it, find out if I can make it happen, so I can get on with it, or get busy getting over it. But sitting around and doing nothing, sitting by and just holding your hand and being there for you? No. I can’t do just that.

“I’d want to. For you. If I could, I’d be that, hell, I’d be anything, if it would be good enough for you. But the fact is, it’s not near good enough for me. I’ve gotten a taste of you, not just in my mouth, on my tongue, but in my head, in my thoughts. You’ve infiltrated me. So no, I was wrong about what I said before. I can’t just be your friend. I will be the best, most trusted, most loyal, and most dedicated friend you’ve ever had, along with your lover, your partner, your mate in every sense of the word. I’m no’ saying we’d achieve it, we can’t know that, but that is the goal, that is where I want to go. Anything less … I’d just be pretending I’m okay with that.”

He walked up to her, and tugged her arms from her waist, then slid them around his. “So, when you kiss me … you need to be able to kiss
me.
You’re too caught up in trying not to kiss
me. Not for real. Not openly, honestly, with hope in your heart. Right now, I am still your friend. But I have every intention of getting us to a place where you can kiss me back.”

“Roan, you make this so complicated when it doesn’t have to be. If you’d just—”

“Am I really saying anything that’s no’ true?”

She glared at him, so frustrated she wanted to lash out at him, physically, verbally. “Why can’t you just be like everyone else and take what you can get?”

“Because I won’t settle for that. Kinloch would be doomed if I did that in my professional life. I find I won’t settle for less in my personal life, either.” He tugged her closer, wrapped her arms more tightly around him, and held her snugly in the circle of his own arms.

She fit him well. Perfectly, in fact. Legs, hips, shoulders. He was just that perfect bit taller than her, so she had to tip her face up to look into his eyes. It made her feel good, it made her feel … like the girl. She liked being the girl. Feminine, protected, maybe even a bit coddled. As he held her in the security of his arms, nestled up against him as she was, she couldn’t help thinking if he would just lower his mouth, that same tiny bit, it would fit perfectly on hers. And there might be nothing more naturally right than that.

Her heart tripped, then sped up when his gaze drifted lazily to her mouth, then back up to her eyes as her lips parted. There was such emotion in his eyes. They crinkled at the corners, and were lit with joy. Just … joy. Such a simple, beautiful emotion. So pure, so honest. Why was it so hard for her to embrace it? Without fear, without worrying?

Roan did. Every day. Without even thinking about it. He reached for it, expected it to be there for him. Reveled in it, and did his charming level best to spread it to all who were around him. As if he was the damned pied piper or something.

But oh, she wanted to follow him and fall under that spell. To live joyfully as it if were as natural as taking her next breath. He was a man who was content with his life, successful
in his endeavors, and very clear about his path for the future and his sense of where he fit into the fabric of it. He knew what he wanted and he didn’t settle for less.

So, how was it that he was the man who wanted her?

He lowered his head, and softly brushed his lips over hers. She made a little noise in the back of her throat, but she didn’t do anything to alter the kiss, letting him guide her into it. Her entire being softened as he kissed each corner of her mouth. He gathered her more closely to him, and her arms tightened around his waist. Naturally.

She didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to fight it.

He shifted his head, pressed a short, soft kiss to the fullest part of her mouth. Then again. And again. Short, sweet, gentle.

She moved against him, nestled more deeply. “I do like how you kiss me.”

“How purely wonderful that is,” he marveled, his deep voice a hushed whisper. “I won’t grow tired of it, that I know.”

“Good,” she said, and allowed the smile that came so naturally. Along with it came a first taste of joy. Could it really be just that simple? Could she leave her defenses behind, the fear of what came next, the plotting and planning, and all the worrying about whether she could handle it all, and just allow … joy?

He was looking straight into her eyes and she let herself look back. Her heart tightened almost painfully as she felt a deep well of yearning unfurl inside of her. She wanted him. Really, truly, wanted. That very specific man. Not just to assuage needs, but to know him, to talk to him, laugh with him, be challenged by him, to have him, as part of her life and not just for a few hours, or a few days. It was a stunning revelation, and she felt it keenly, with stark, bald honesty.

With that confusion came an instinctive ball of dread, coiling inside her belly, choking the new tendrils of want. Fear licked at the edges of her inner calm. She’d be so open to him, so completely vulnerable. He would have significant power, because what he offered her was huge, as big as the wide world
she’d traveled, and every bit as unpredictable. If she let herself want that big new world, where joy happened naturally, and love and need and want were a part of every single day, only to lose it—or, worse, discover she didn’t have what it took inside her to return it …

Every muscle started to tighten, anxiety jacked up her pulse. No.
No
! She was going to relax and let go. She was going to trust. Him. And more important, herself. She could do it. She could have what she wanted and damn the consequences.