Two nights later, after much soul searching and a near nervous breakdown, Remi juggled bags and her pride as she climbed the porch steps to Brick’s house. The porch light cast a welcoming glow she was certain wouldn’t be reflected by the owner.
Heart heavy, belly nervous, she pressed the doorbell and waited.
She heard his heavy tread as he approached the door and blew out a breath. Had they broken up? Had they ever been together?
The door swung open, and she found herself staring up at an unhappy man mountain.
He looked miserable, exhausted like he hadn’t slept since their fight Saturday.
She had that effect on people, she supposed.
His hair stood up like he’d been running his hands through it. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a black hoodie. For some reason, that made her nipples harden. But she wasn’t here for her nipples. She was here for her heart.
“Are you here to get fucked, Remi?” he rasped.
The way he said it, the heated look delivered with those words, told her it wouldn’t take any convincing on her part to make him reconsider his stance.
There was a razor’s edge to his voice, and she could smell the bourbon on him. He was stone-cold sober because he never drank too much. Never let himself get too out of control, except in bed with her. And now he was suffering because of it.
“No. I’m here to make you dinner,” she announced, pushing past him and ignoring the way her blood zinged through her veins when her arm brushed against his. He didn’t stand back to give her room, merely towered over her as she dropped her bags and shed her boots and coat.
“What…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you wearing?”
“Pajamas,” she said, picking up her haul and heading toward the kitchen. “I marinated a couple of the chicken breasts you gave me. I hope you like the recipe.”
He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she began to unload the bags. “What are you doing, Remi?” he asked.
She turned and looked him in the eyes. “I’m dating you.”
“Dating me?”
She nodded. “I’m making you dinner, and we’re gonna watch a movie.”
He stood there and watched as she slid the casserole dish into the oven and turned it on. Magnus appeared and wound his way between her feet.
Remi picked him up and gave the cat a loud kiss on the head. “Hey, buddy. I brought you something, too,” she said, producing a toy from one of the bags.
Magnus’s yellow eyes went wild and he pounced on the patchwork mouse.
She couldn’t look directly at Brick or she’d break into a million pieces, lose her nerve, and run screaming for the door. “I’ll be a couple of minutes,” she said, flashing a smile in his direction. “Why don’t you get Netflix ready to go? We can eat on the couch as long as your grandma doesn’t find out.”
He ran a hand over his beard, considering.
She pretended to ignore him while she cued up the Date Night Playlist she’d made for tonight. She was committed to whole-assing this relationship thing no matter what. If it failed, it sure as hell wouldn’t be because she didn’t try.
He came up behind her, stopping short of touching her, but she felt him all the same.
“Remi,” he said quietly.
Crap. It sounded like a “You need to leave” Remi. Or maybe an “I don’t want to be around you anymore” Remi.
She turned around and smiled brightly, hoping to confuse him. “Yes?”
“What do you mean you’re ‘dating me’?”
“You thought I was using you for sex.”
He winced and rubbed a hand through his beard. “I didn’t actually mean—”
She held up a hand. “It’s what you were feeling. You don’t talk much, and when you do, it’s what’s actually happening inside behind that big brick wall. I heard you. Now I’m showing you I can do better. That I want more from you than just your supernatural ability to make me orgasm.”
“Why do you want to date me?” he asked, looking adorably stunned.
A chunk of her romantic heart broke off, pieces splintering into dust. “Because I care about you, Brick. Not just your dick or how many ways you can make me come. You’ve been a big, important part of my life for so long. I’m sorry I let you forget how much you mean to me,” she said in a rush.
“So we’re dating?” He looked so damn serious.
She nodded. He didn’t get to decide to break up with her before she’d decided they were dating in the first place. If he was going to give her the size fourteen boot, he could do so after she showed him just how great a girlfriend she could be. She was going to woo his damn face off.
“We’re dating,” she affirmed. “You’re important to me, and I’m sorry I ever let you doubt that for a second. And you’re sorry for ever believing that I’d use you.”
He nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I am sorry,” he agreed, reaching for her.
She held up her hands, stopping him before he touched her. “One more thing.”
He braced himself with a deep breath. “What?”
“We’re not having sex until I’ve proven to you that I’m serious. About us.”
His eyebrows rose. “We’re platonically dating?”
“Think of it as friends without the benefits. Sex was confusing things.” Hell, it had overtaken everything. “We’re starting over and giving this a real shot. So that means no orgasms until you know I’m interested in more than just certain body parts.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being punished?”
“You’re not,” she insisted, pressing a hand to his chest and reveling in the feel of his heart pounding beneath it. He was so calm on the surface, but underneath was a different story. “You said things…”
“Things like I love you?” Brick tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she shivered at the contact.
“Things that made me stop and think,” she said. “Things that scared the hell out of me. And part of me is still waiting for you to change your mind and back away again. But regardless, I’m in this until the bitter end.”
“Then we use this time for you to convince me you want more than just sex and for me to convince you that I’m not going anywhere this time.”
Him saying the words had her heart tripping in her chest.
“Without sex,” she reminded him.
“Without sex,” he agreed with an arch of his eyebrow.
She gave him a little shove. “Why don’t you go find us a bottle of wine? I’ll get dinner ready.”
She waited until he left the kitchen before sagging against the counter.
She’d seduced and enjoyed. She’d fascinated and dazzled. She could freaking woo Brick. Couldn’t she? As long as she didn’t take the man’s pants off, she could stay focused on the goal: Making Brick Callan realize he was more than good enough for her.
How hard could it be to not have sex with a man she’d spent fourteen years not having sex with?
The sexy son of a bitch returned with a bottle of wine and a smirk. He flashed the label at her, and she recognized it as one of her favorites. Of course the man who stocked Kraft Mac and Cheese for her would also have her favorite wine.
The urge to climb him like a tree flared to life between her thighs.
But it was the look in those blue eyes that stopped her. Hope. He was hopeful.
Remi turned away and swallowed hard. He made her feel so raw it made her hands shake.
Brick watched her silently as he found a corkscrew and went to work opening the bottle. While she fussed over the salad, he poured two glasses and slid one to her.
Their fingers tangled on the stem, and her pulse spiked. Everything about the man drew her in. But she wasn’t going to jump this time. She was going to take it slow. Magnus sprinted into the room, the mouse in his mouth giving her the needed distraction to extricate her fingers and glass.
“What are we watching?” he asked, looking down at her. A flicker of a smile curving those brutal lips. He could tell she was nervous, and she knew he liked it.
“The Quiet Man,” she announced.
He frowned. “I’m not familiar.”
She gasped theatrically, side-stepping Magnus as he wriggled into one of her shopping bags. “The Quiet Man,” she repeated.
“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it.”
“John Wayne is a quiet ex-boxer who moves to Ireland and falls in love with Maureen O’Hara, a wildcat with a wicked tongue and red hair.”
He gave her a sexy half smile that had her cheeks going pink and nipples tightening to points. She took a gulp of wine.
“Sounds familiar. At least the part about the red-haired wild cat with a wicked tongue.”
They both needed to stop talking about tongues. It wasn’t helping her heightened arousal situation. “It’s a classic. Besides you have no choice. Sacrifices must be made when you’re dating,” she said airily.
“I can help you with dinner,” he said. They both watched as his index finger hooked itself in the neckline of her pajama top.
Her heart rate spiked when his finger grazed her sternum.
Yes. Wait. No.
This was a dangerous game. She grabbed his hand. “No sex. Remember? What’s so funny?” she demanded when he gave her the full wattage of the rare Brick Callan grin.
She felt a little light-headed. And also like she’d won the lottery.
“Me touching you with a fingertip makes you think we’re about to have sex.”
“After the past few weeks, can you blame me?”
“Hmm.” His hum was like a caress over her skin.
This was going to be harder than she thought. Dammit! Harder.
She shook her head until her brain sloshed around inside. “Focus. No sex. Not until you feel appreciated.”
“I feel appreciated when you scream my name and lock down around my cock.”
Holy Johnny Cash. Her body unanimously voted for boosting itself up on the counter and spreading her legs as wide as they could go for the man who looked like he wanted to devour her.
But her heart managed a veto.
“You felt used. That’s on me,” she said. “Ergo, it’s up to me to prove to you how much I want the whole shebang. Hebang?”
He raised an eyebrow.
She grimaced. “Forget the banging. My point is, I know there’s more to us than just sex, and I’m going to prove it to you.”
“By not having sex with me.”
She nodded. “No orgasms for me…or you. I don’t think I could control myself if I was making you come,” she admitted.
He closed his eyes like he was in pain. “Jesus, Remi.”
“Just go with it, okay? I want to make this right.”
