The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,55

very still as she felt the brush of his fingers on the nape of her neck. Sensation washed through her—heat and awareness and an almost animal sense of yearning.

It had been so long since she’d lain skin to skin with a man. So long since someone had touched her with anything other than clinical detachment.

Oliver was standing barely two feet away. All she had to do was take a step and she’d be so close to him she’d be able to feel his body heat.

There were a lot of good reasons to ignore that impulse. The concerns that had kept her awake in the small hours hadn’t dissolved overnight. As aroused as she was, as aware of him as she was, she still felt a panicky sense of uncertainty when her imagination moved beyond contemplating what she wanted to do to him to what he might like to do to her. It was one thing to assert she was proud of and reconciled to her damaged body, and another thing entirely to practice what she preached.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand drop to his side. She turned her head.

His gaze met hers. Her breath got caught in her throat as she read the carnal intent in his eyes. He wanted her, still. Even though she’d been such an idiot. All she had to do was reach out and he could be hers. All that beautiful, intoxicating masculinity.

She didn’t move. Her arms felt leaden, her feet glued to the ground, weighted by indecision and doubt. Eyes locked to his, she willed him to understand and to make the first move for both of them, breaking this Mexican standoff, forcing her past her own fear.

Kiss me, she willed him. Kiss me and make it all better.

The moment stretched. Oliver’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

He took a step backward. “Let me know if you don’t feel up to working tomorrow, okay?”

Disappointment slammed through her as he headed for the door.

Do you blame him, after last night? Why on earth would he risk you flinging yourself against the nearest hard surface to escape him again? Why would he put himself in that position?

She didn’t blame him, but it didn’t stop her from feeling seriously disgruntled as she followed him to the foyer.

On the surface, it was such a simple equation. He was a healthy, single, consenting adult, and so was she. There was nothing in the world stopping them from acting on the attraction between them. And yet he was about to walk out the door, and she was about to let him.

“Thanks for your help,” she said as they reached the entryway.

“Don’t be too grateful. I plan on working you hard tomorrow.”

“Bring it on.” She managed to produce a smile.

His gaze dropped to her mouth one last time before he turned away. “You’ll have to tell me about Dr. Mary De Garis one of these days.”

“It would serve you right if I held you to that,” she said as he exited.

He didn’t say anything, simply lifted a hand in farewell. She watched until he’d disappeared around the curve in the driveway, then shut the door.

If only he’d kissed her. There was no way she would have pushed him away this time.

If only you’d kissed him.

But she hadn’t. She’d choked, pulled up short by her self-consciousness.

She went to the bedroom and stripped before stepping into the shower in her en suite. All the while she thought about Oliver, about that heated, taut moment that had stretched and stretched and finally broken beneath the weight of her uncertainty and doubt. A year ago, she would have bridged the distance between them and let him know what she wanted. She wouldn’t have hesitated. Not that she’d thought she was some sort of irresistible sexual goddess before the accident, but she’d been around enough to know when a man wanted her and to act on that awareness if the feeling was reciprocal.

Bowing her head, she let the water flow over her back. She hated being afraid. Hated to think that she’d let fear be the deciding factor. Hated to think that this was something else the accident had taken away from her.

She didn’t want to be the sort of woman who let self-doubt rule her world.

Then don’t be.

She lifted her head.

It was such a simple thought. If she took the time to pick it apart, she could find a dozen different ways to debunk it. But maybe she needed to stop thinking