Page 35 of The Merger
His eyes devoured me, causing my laughter to halt as my breath hitched in my chest. I was aware of the rise and fall of my chest as my breathing quickened. He appeared to be one moment away from pouncing on me, but then he scooted quickly away from me. Not the reaction I was expecting.
Stryker grabbed my towel off of the couch and held it out to me. “I didn’t bring you here to take advantage of you when you’re upset.”
I took the towel from him and covered myself up feeling suddenly self conscious. I licked my lips and studied the looping fibers on the white hotel towel. My eyes stung from a sudden need to cry from embarrassment.
“I’m going to go get dressed,” I muttered and turned away from him.
Stryker reached out, grabbed my elbow, and turned me around. “Please don’t cry.” His other hand rose to gently wipe a tear off my cheek.
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. I grabbed the bag Jana left and locked myself in the bathroom. Most of the sleepwear Jana packed was skimpy lingerie. My heart thundered in my chest while I continued to dig frantically through the bag trying to find something that would show less skin. Aside from some work clothes and jeans, all I found were scraps of lace. I guess I wasn’t the only one who thought Stryker and I would be moving in that direction. Finally, I found a simple t-shirt and a soft pair of sleep shorts. They were still on the short side but covered more than the skimpy lingerie.
When I finally braved going back out to the main sitting room, I found Stryker sitting with his chin resting on his palm, deep in thought. His head snapped up, and I thought I saw remorse in his eyes before he schooled his features.
He opened his mouth to speak to me, but before he could say a single word there was a knock on the door. With a huff of irritation, he rose from the sofa and strolled to open the door. He stepped back and let a member of the hotel staff push a cart in loaded with our room service. I watched Stryker slip the man a tip, and we were alone again. At least the food would help alleviate some of the awkward silence. I couldn’t be expected to engage in conversation if we were eating.
He set out our plates on the small dining table, burgers and fries as he’d promised, and pulled out my chair.
Instead of digging into his food, he studied me for a minute. “We should talk about earlier.”
I groaned. “It was humiliating enough. Let’s just forget it.”
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It was nearly everything I’ve wanted for the last five years. Believe me, I’ll be replaying every second when I close my eyes tonight.”
Taking a deep breath, I asked the question I knew would plague me if I stayed silent. “Then why did you back away? What was missing?”
His chocolate brown eyes met mine. “I want more than lust with you.”
How many times over the years have I put men off using the same excuse? Except, those men weren’t my husband, and I usually said it to keep them at arm's length because the spark wasn’t there.
I needed to know, otherwise, there was really no reason to continue down this path. “Do you feel that way about me though?”
His eyebrow cocked up, and I could see the exasperation on his face. “I know women can fake interest, but men can’t. You were on my lap, so you tell me, do you really question if I want you?”
My fair complexion was always prone to blushing, and if the burning I felt under my skin was any indication, I looked more like a tomato now than a person. He definitely had a reaction to me sitting in his lap.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, we still need to talk. I want to take you on a date.”
I looked pointedly down at the food set in front of us. “We’re having dinner. That’s a very date-like activity.”
“Inside my hotel suite, while you’re dressed in pajamas is hardly a date. Especially not after you caught the guy you were dating boning your sister in your apartment. That is not the scenario I imagined after all the years I’ve waited for you.”
He had a point. I had a disturbing realization the more I questioned why I had pushed him so far earlier. I was trying to push him away. It was an odd tactic, I’ll admit, but in my experience, most men lost interest after sex. Not that I’d had many partners. I’d had one boyfriend in high school and another one my first year of college. Neither relationship lasted more than a few months and both ended after we’d had sex a few times.
Stryker seemed so adamant about us staying married, I think subconsciously I wanted to test his resolve, thinking he’d back off and we’d have a night of fun before I made the mistake of developing feelings for him. Then there was the possibility that being with him would trigger the memories I lost after sharing my friend’s drugged drink. Plus, I was eager to end the world’s longest dry spell.
Yes, I’d had many opportunities to have sex over the last several years, but I’ve never been able to hook up without feelings. Why I thought it would be different with Stryker was another thing I didn’t want to examine too closely.
The thing was, I had mommy issues. My father was amazing. I never felt unloved, or unsupported when I was with him, but there was always something missing. Every time I saw the other kids at school with their moms, or when I started my period at thirteen, I was reminded that my mother would rather host charity functions and have brunch with other society wives than do anything as pedestrian as chaperone a school field trip.
The therapist my father forced me to see in high school said I had difficulty forming attachments since I’d been denied one of the most fundamental bonds a person ever develops, that between a mother and a child. I shrugged it off at the time. I was in high school, what did I care about forming attachments? Plus, there were lots of perfectly normal people who had lost their mothers through illness or accident when they were young. And, it wasn’t like I never saw mine. I visited regularly enough to keep up appearances for her with the society crowd, but I was nothing more than a prop to her. An accessory to check all the boxes of her charmed life.
A soft brush against my chin pulled me out of my head. Stryker tipped my face back up to look at him. “There you are.” His smile was cautious. “I’m not saying I wasn’t into it. There was definitely a moment, but not like this.”
He took a deep breath and held it in for a moment before releasing. “Not with my brother hanging over our night and not because you’re pissed off at your sister.”
My eyes looked down at the food in front of us, then back up at him. “We’re having dinner. After we will watch a movie and at some point, you will awkwardly try and put your arm around me. Then, you will walk me to the bedroom door, and I expect you to attempt to kiss me goodnight.”
Stryker smiled, but he tipped his head down, trying to hide it from me. “It’s a deal. Tonight is our first date. It’s been awkward enough. I only hope I can earn a second one.”