Page 54 of Only and Forever

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Page 54 of Only and Forever

I shake my head. “No.” Lifting my head, I hold his eyes. “I do,however, look forward to picking that very eloquent brain of yours when we start working on my book couple’s dynamic.”

He blinks. “You... think I’m eloquent?”

“Did you just hear yourself?” I take a deep drink of coffee, then stand from my stool and grab for the coffee carafe, refilling his mug, topping off mine. “You are incredibly eloquent when you talk about this, Viggo. I’m surprised you aren’t itching to write a book yourself.”

He frowns down at his coffee. “Nah. I’m a reader. Not a writer. I just want to enjoy it, not make it my job, beyond pushing books I love on people.”

“Fair enough.” Easing back onto my stool, I sip my coffee, then put it down. “So... this was good. We cleared the air, acknowledged we’re attracted to each other...”

Our eyes hold. Viggo’s throat works roughly with a swallow. “Yeah, we are.”

Heat spills through me as I sit beside him, knees brushing, so close I can see the pale silver slivers in his irises, auburn glittering in the wavy depths of his hair. It would be so easy to take his coffee from his hand, press him back against the counter, slip my fingers beneath his shirt, glide my palms up his hot skin, and kiss him until he was moaning, begging for more; to drop to my knees, yank down his shorts, and make him come right there, hands braced on the stool’s edge, his head thrown back, hips working—

A car backfires outside, snapping me out of my lusty fantasy. I clutch my coffee cup hard, clench my jaw, breathe through it. Viggo’s staring at me like he’s read my mind. Like maybe he’s been indulging in a fantasy of his own. Heat is high on his cheeks; his eyes are bright. His gaze keeps darting to my mouth, and he rolls his shoulders back, like he’s trying to shake off the urge to lean closer, to touch me.

I have never felt this intensely drawn toward someone, never so sure that they’re just as drawn to me. There is no doubt in my mind that we’d have incredible sex. There is also no doubt in my mind, given the circumstances in which we find ourselves, living under the same roof, that it would be terribly irresponsible of us to do it.

Viggo and I hold each other’s gaze, bring our coffee to our mouths, and take twin long, slow drinks.

“But...” My voice is so thick with lust, the word comes out faint and cracked. I clear my throat, straighten my spine. “While we’re attracted to each other, we absolutely are not going to fuck.”

Viggo chokes on his coffee.

I whack him on the back.

“I’m good,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Why’d you choke, then?”

His cheeks are red. “You just... talk about it so matter-of-factly.”

“I see it as a matter-of-fact thing.”

“Yeah.” He glances down at his coffee.

“And you see it as something... emotional?” My gaze darts to the romance novel he was reading, then back to him. “Something you share with someone you... love?”

His eyes meet mine. “Yes.”

And that’s not you.That’s the unspoken truth that hangs in the air between us.

It shouldn’t sting—itshouldn’t—because dammit, I don’t believe in love, I don’twanthim to “love” me or want romance with me. And yet something inside me twangs sharply, like a plucked string reverberating on a sour note, gratingly off pitch.

I shrug, expression cool. “There you have it, then. Since my last roommate-with-benefits disaster, I don’t sleep with people I live with. You’re a romantic who wants to sleep with someone you love.We can just... acknowledge the physical attraction is there and move on.”

His eyes search mine. His fingers drum across the counter. “Don’t you feel like it’s a bit trickier than just... ‘moving on’?”

Yes.

I stare at him. “How so?”

Viggo leans in, elbows on the counter, eyes searching mine. “I can’t explain it. The way I want you, physically, the way I respond to you, it’s like an itch I can’t even reach, let alone scratch. I don’t think that’s just... going to go away.”

“That would be the unsatisfied lust talking. Wanting what you haven’t had.”

“It’s not that simple. Dammit, Lu.”

“So, if it isn’t that simple,” I press, “if it isn’t just biological, how do you explain being attracted to me so...”




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