Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [98]
“I don't think you're like Cira.”
“No, I'm not. But I'd be proud to have her strength and her determination, and I resent you intimating that she was less than she was.”
“May I point out I've never admitted comparing the two of you? You're the one who's so sure that I—”
She turned to leave the room.
“No.” His hand was on her shoulder, spinning her around. “Don't turn your back on me. I've stood here and listened to you condemning me for a sex crazy son of a bitch, but I won't let you run away until I have my say.”
“Let me go.”
“When I've finished.” His eyes were glittering in his taut face. “First, you may be right. I've lived with the image of Cira for so long that I could be unconsciously comparing you. Not consciously. I realize the differences. One of which sticks in my throat and nearly chokes me every time I look at you. Second, just because I've got my share of healthy lust doesn't mean I think less of her . . . or you. I told you that I thought she was bigger than life. Sex is part of the package, but only a part. Third, if you were older and had a little more experience I wouldn't have to tell you all this. I could show you.”
She stared up at him, anger ebbing away, replaced by that odd breathlessness she'd experienced once before.
“Don't look at me like that,” he said thickly. His hand left her shoulder and moved up to cup her cheek. “God, you're beautiful. You have so many expressions. . . .”
Her skin was tingling beneath his touch yet she couldn't seem to move away. “Everyone has expressions.”
“Not like you. You light up, you cloud, you sparkle. . . . I could watch you for the next millennium and not get tired of—” He drew a deep breath and his hand slowly dropped away from her. “Go to bed. I'm not behaving well and it could get worse.”
She didn't move.
“Go to bed.”
She took a step closer and tentatively touched his chest.
“Oh, shit.” He closed his eyes. “Now you've done it.”
His heart was beating so hard beneath her palm. . . .
His eyes opened and he stared down at her. “No.”
“Why not?” She took another step. “I think I want—”
“I know you do.” He drew a deep shaky breath and took a step back. “And it's killing me.” He turned and headed for the door. “Sex maniacs are like that.”
She barely remembered calling him that. “Where are you going?”
“To get some air. I need it.”
“You're running away from me.”
“You're damn right.”
“Why?”
He stopped at the door to look back at her. “Because I don't screw schoolgirls, Jane.”
She could feel the heat flush her cheeks. “I didn't say I wanted to screw you. And that's not a very pleasant way of—”
“I didn't want to make it pretty. I'm trying to discourage you.”
“You act as if I attacked you. I only touched you.”
“That was enough. When it's you.”
She lifted her chin. “Why? After all, I'm only a schoolgirl. Not important enough to be of any account.”
“No more than the black plague was during the Dark Ages.”
“Now you're comparing me to a plague?”
“Only the devastation factor.” He studied her expression. “Have I hurt you? Christ, I keep forgetting you're more fragile than you pretend.”
“You couldn't hurt me.” She stared at him defiantly. “I wouldn't let you. Even though you tried your best. Let's see, you called me a plague, a schoolgirl, Cira.”
“I did hurt you.” He didn't speak for a moment and when he did the harshness was gone from his voice. “Look, I never want to hurt you. I want to be your friend.” He shook his head. “No, that's not true. We may be friends someday but there's too much in the way right now.”
“I can't imagine being friends with you.”
“Ditto. That's the problem. Oh, what the hell. I'm just digging myself deeper.” He slammed the door behind him as he left the house.
“I never want to hurt you.”
But he had hurt her. She felt rejected and uncertain and lonely. She had acted instinctively, compulsively, and he'd refused her.
It was only her pride, she told herself. She was far from ignorant, but she didn't know anything about sex on a personal level. He obviously wanted to have nothing to do with a novice.
Well,