I could slide my hands up her stomach and cup her tits right now. She was going all relaxed in my arms. Leaning in to me. Ah, so good. NO!
I dropped my hands and stepped back. Amanda’s posture went stiff. She didn’t look back at me. I stood there trying to think of something to say, but nothing came to me.
“Get on your shirt and leave. Willow and Larissa are on their way back. Marcus wanted you gone before they got here,” she said in a flat voice before walking away. I watched her until she walked into the guest bedroom and closed the door behind her.
I sank back down on the couch and dropped my head into my hands. Why did I keep doing this? I had to remember she was off-limits. Why did she have to come to me so easily? Didn’t she know better than to get close to boys like me? She didn’t need to let me touch her—she needed to fight me off. But, damn, knowing she would welcome my touch was driving me f**king insane.
I looked around the room for my shirt and found it folded on the end of the sofa. Willow must have done that. I slipped it on, then felt in my pockets for my phone and my keys. Only my phone was there. My keys were probably in the Jeep. I should just go. Not say anything. Just go. She was right to hide from me.
I moved my feet to walk to the door and ended up heading for the room that Amanda had gone into. I just couldn’t leave it like this.
“Manda,” I called out, and knocked once before opening the door.
She was sitting on the bed with her legs folded up underneath her, staring out the window. She didn’t turn and look back at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, stepping into the room.
She shrugged and kept her gaze fixed on the window looking out over the water.
“Are you not going to talk to me now?” I asked, taking a few more steps closer to the bed.
“Our conversations don’t typically end well,” she replied.
And that was all my fault.
“I know.”
She didn’t respond right away. I watched her as she sat there. The late-morning sun was shining through the window, making her already perfect face look even more angelic. How did I always mange to hurt her? She didn’t deserve to be hurt. Her dad had ripped her world apart this past year. She needed friends. People who would love her and not continually hurt her. Why couldn’t I do that?
“This time you have nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “I got too close; you moved away. I got the hint. Not really a big deal. I’m fine. Now just go.”
Dammit. She really didn’t understand guys at all.
“Manda, I backed away because I was letting something happen that shouldn’t. You’re too good for me. You realize that, don’t you? I’m f**ked up. My life is one screwed-up mess. As much as I’d like to touch you—because, baby, you’re all kinds of irresistible—I can’t. I will never be good enough for you.”
Finally she turned her head and met my pleading gaze. I needed her to understand this. I’d let her play this game too long, and I’d enjoyed the hell out of it. Having her flirt with me had been something I looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.
“Fine. You don’t want to be good enough for me, then you will never be. I deserve someone who wants to be what I need. It isn’t like you will be my only crush. You were just my first. You taught me a lot about guys.” She stood up and walked over to me. “You’re right. I deserve more. So much more than a guy who won’t even kiss me while he’s sliding in and out of me. I’m good enough to be a quick f**k, but I’m not good enough to kiss? Got it. Lesson learned.”
What the hell was she talking about? We hadn’t had sex. I would not forget having sex with Amanda Hardy.
“Bye, Preston. We’re done here. Conversation over.”
“Amanda, what are you talk—”
The front door opened, interrupting me, and a little voice started calling out, “Mana! Mana! Are you?” Larissa and Willow had returned.
Amanda walked past me and into the living room.
My head was spinning. What the f**king hell was she talking about?
“Hey you, pretty girl. I missed you,” Amanda cooed.
“Martus at work,” Larissa told Amanda.
“Yes, he is.”
Larissa lifted her green eyes, and she found me standing back, watching them.