Perfecting the Odds (9 page)

W
armth singed her back before his hand circled her arm. “Answer one question for me.” She paused then nodded slowly, terrified of the question “If you knew I was deceiving you, why did you kiss me like that, Karis?”

She
drew a deep breath and gave a shrug. Thank god she was turned away. Her eyes would belie her comment. “Even widows need affection,” she said before pulling away and cringing at her whiny response.

“Clearly
,” he scoffed.

She gaped and whipped around on him again. “You know what, Michael? I may have teased you a…a
little
, but at least I had the balls to give you my name. Your response: ‘Of course I do, sweetheart’” she said in a mock low timbre. “I mean, what the hell!”

***

The argument was inevitable. Michael had prepared for this moment for three years.

The “hard” comment nearly had him falling off his seat and, of course, making him hard enough to hammer nails. Her flawless Latin had him eager to ask her questions about her life, her hobbies, what she did for a living. And that kiss, that one mind-fucking kiss had scrambled his entire plan to take it slow and come clean. Karis seized him like a three-pronged grappling hook: in his head, in his heart, and in, of course, his needy dick.

And then there was that other vexing problem. Fucking mask. It was an unforeseen wrinkle, but he’d anticipated the banter, the name calling, and the defensive posturing. Even though she was drunk, she had admitted she wanted him, and yes now she chose to ignore that fact. Fortunately, Karis’s brutal honesty along with her inability to ignore goading were two qualities that would help him. He was certain he could combat some of the anger she threw around like a weapon.

As h
e drew a finger down her cheek, he didn’t miss her body tremor and her lips part just slightly. “You’re right. I was deliberately evasive, but I seem to recall it was
you
who propositioned
me
for sex…something about preferring it ‘hard’ and ‘straight up’.” Her mouth dropped open shock, and he grinned at her immediate pout.

“
I …uh…that was a slip. I’m drunk, for godssake.” She said in obvious frustration.

“Are you growling at me,
Karis?”

She glared at him
and pressed her lips together so hard, they blanched. “You’re an arrogant jerk.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She barked a laugh despite the anger. “You’re a frickin’ jerk
and
blind… and why the hell are you talking so much. Last time you didn’t talk so damn much.” He laughed then stepped closer.

“You’re adorable.”

“Stop,” she hissed.

He shrugged. “Stop what,” he asked before crossing his arms.

Her brows shot upward. “This!”

“This
? As in a demonstrative determiner? Because then the word needs a noun. For instance, this table or this chair—,” he said, gesturing to objects in his apartment.

“Michael! Don’t play semantics games with me. Thi
iis.” She threw out her hands and waved her arms frantically between them.

“You’re gesturing to air,
Karis,” he said with a smirk playing on his lips.

She pitched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes. “
Is this your brilliant juvenile plan to get me to stay and talk this out because I’m not gonna lie--I’m about five seconds from slapping that arrogant smirk right off your face. And I will love every. fucking. second of it. 1, 2, 3--”

Michael invaded the space in from of her, his mouth a
wisp of breath from hers. He inhaled, luring in the hints of vodka and sweetness. She gasped before her body softened against his. God help him, he wanted her so bad his dick throbbed almost painfully. But he had to diffuse the anger long enough to make her acknowledge their connection, that they deserved a chance to see if what he felt was real and worthy of more. He glided his lips along her cheek and beneath her ear.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you
,” he whispered and rolled his hips hard against the apex of her thighs. “I’ve been hard for you for three
fucking
years, Karis.” She released a cock-twitching moan before she stepped back to distance herself from him.

Karis cleared her throat
. Michael knew now it was a nervous habit. “Okay, fine,” she said, raising her hands in defeat. “I inadvertently propositioned you for sex, but that’s not going to happen, so we’re back to why you didn’t say your name at the bar.” Her self-satisfied smile appeared, pleased with how well she turned the conversation back to the original argument.

He studied her for a moment.
She had calmed significantly and was now perhaps ready for his truth. “I was afraid,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head
in exasperation. God, the woman was difficult. “Afraid of what, pray tell?”

“Of
losing you again,” he whispered and dropped his eyes. And there it was. The truth that left him vulnerable hung in the air between them. And she could man-handle that truth in two very different ways.

Karis sucked in a breath. Her heart beat wildly as the tears glazed her eyes. This was the Michael who resided in her thoughts and came forth at the most random times. This was the Michael of her dreams night after night, who missioned to please her in wickedly unspeakable ways.

She
swallowed hard to remove the lump in her throat and did her best to glare into his eyes, but they looked so damned wounded and, lord help her, beautiful.

T
his was the Michael she wasn’t ready for
.

“Dammit, Michael…you never had me,” Karis rasped. He exhaled audibly, and she winced at the cruelty hanging between them, palpable and repulsive.

His
chest lifted with another breath as he searched her face carefully. “Karis, why did you kiss me? The truth.” Caught in his gaze, she found herself in a showdown of morality. It was so much easier to walk away and allow the lie to kill the connection between them. But Karis was honest if anything else, hurt too many times by deception to be any other way.

Her chin quivered.
“Because you’re ….” The tears finally fell.
Just stop talking, Karis. The truth will only make it harder to leave
. Her chest burned, and she was certain her long-ago- damaged heart was taking the brunt of both the lie and the truth.

“
Finish your thought. Please.”

She
looked back at the door behind her before dashing away the tears. “It won’t make a difference, Michael.”

“It will to me
,” he said and stepped closer.

“Michael
--,” She looked down and held her breath as his warm lips swept across her cheek. “It won’t change anything.”

“
Goddammit, just say it, Karis.”

She drew a breath
and plunged. “You’re the only man I thought about after he died…. I don’t know why, and it doesn’t matter…I can’t--.” Her voice echoed in her head; she squeezed her eyes shut, suffocating further tears.

“
Don’t leave, Karis.” His lips grazed her ear as his palm spayed her lower back. “Please, just--stay.” The tickle of his breath on her neck and the desperation in his voice cut through her, dropping with a thud in her gut. Scarred again. She pressed her palm against her stomach to ease the ache. She met his beautiful eyes glistening with apology. Her fingers itched to trace a path along his jaw, to run her thumb over that bottom lip, but she fisted them instead, digging her nails into her palms. “Would you have kissed me or come here, if I had told you the truth?” Of course he would ask
that
question.

“
Maybe…and no,” she whispered. His pained expression was now firm, sure of his decision. “Listen, Mich—.”

He
cupped her chin firmly. “Don’t blame me for wanting to protect you from the memories of that night. I didn’t think you deserved rehashing any grief. I would’ve told you.” His lips quirked up. “Getting your attention at the bar wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”

“I guess slut is a step up from widow,” she
quipped straight-faced, and he smirked.

“Not what I meant, smart ass,
” he said with a nip to her bottom lip. She surprised herself and smiled. “That kiss tonight? Shit, I know you felt what we have between us. It’s more than just wanting each other. We have something, I don’t know…
more
, and we felt it three years ago, too; otherwise, you wouldn’t be so goddamn angry right now.” Michael traced his thumb along her jaw as his words settled in her brain. All she could do was stare because he was right. She couldn’t deny the connection she had with him. And he was right, she was fighting it. “For years I’ve thought about finding you, but I knew you would push me away like you’re doing now. For some reason tonight happened.”

No
. In Karis’s world, fate was the bastard child of destiny. And it wasn’t fate if it began under pretense. It was deception…and bared the identical feeling that swept over her when Robert had told her he hid the cancer from her. That feeling was unforgettable. Hell, she hadn’t even forgiven Robert yet. Why should she keep putting herself out there for more cruelty? Her heart and mind battled the emotions trying to break through her anger. Her heart pumped an ache throughout her body. Her hands began to shake. It was stupid of her to get drunk and play games with Michael. Completely selfish and irresponsible. And whatever they had wasn’t logical. How was it possible? She had known Michael mere days, a total of two nights divided by three of the most trying years of her life. With Robert, love had emerged and grown over the years. That was how it supposed to be.  That’s how it worked.
This
…this was merely lust.

“Michael, we’re two people who are clearly attracted to each other.
But we’ve known each other for a total of two nights. We met in a bar… when my husband was dying in the hospital!” she exclaimed. “How can you even want someone like that? Someone who couldn’t stand looking at her sick husband for one more second. And…and I don’t even know how old you are! What you do for a living! You could be a goddamn serial rapist.” She ignored his chuckle and rolled her shoulders to regain some composure. He stood still, his hands now in his pockets, his head lowered—a vision of subjugation. “This is my blame, too, Michael. How I’ve acted tonight…isn’t me. I lost control, which is really not me. I apologize, but this… we”— gesturing between them—“aren’t going to work,” she said, already turning toward the door. God, the aching needed to stop if she was going to survive walking away from him.

Just walk three goddamn feet,
Karis. 

He gently pulled her hand
and held both of her hands in his. Relentless, this man. She tried to jerk them away, without success because
it
was there again, that fierce, elusive
thing
that inescapably cinched every inch of her body to him and extinguished every modicum of willpower. Those decadent eyes would haunt her for the rest of her life. They bore, simply, please.

In the little time she’d had with him, she’d already amassed a tremendous amount of
…something. But it couldn’t be more than attraction. Couldn’t. Nevertheless, whatever it was, she knew losing it meant having to bury more pain, which was exactly what she was trying to avoid in the first place. Frickin’ figures.

“
Karis?” Her name on his lips sent another sting through her chest. She shut her eyes and chanted a silent prayer for it to stop.

She could only muster a “
Yes?”

“
Do you know how many long-term, committed relationships I’ve been in?”

“That’s my point. I
know nothing about you, and--”

“None,” he interrupted. “I’m thirty-
six years old, and until you, I never wanted a woman for longer than a few nights. I was content to work and satisfy my needs with shallow conquests. I hadn’t yet met anyone who made want something different, someone who made me feel what I feel when I’m with you. And even though we don’t know what we have, and even though you think we’re just attracted, I know we should at least try to discover what more would be. Damn it, I’ve avoided more my whole fucking life, but now…now, it’s all I think about. Fuck.” Karis cleared her throat and tried to register what he was saying to her. He seemed as conflicted as she felt. What did more mean to her? She met his eyes and he ran his thumb over her cheek bone, down her neck. “Karis, my full name is Michael Joseph Finn. I grew up on the Eastern Shore, and my mother still lives there. My father died when I was fifteen.  I am the oldest of three children. I have two younger sisters, Megan and Lily. I joined the Marine Corp at eighteen with my best friend Scott and served two tours in Afghanistan. You probably saw him dancing with Eve tonight. We were honorably discharged after four years and then decided to pursue our dream professions. Currently, I’m a professor of British Literature. I specialize in the works of John Donne.”