Artie
There was a woman on my doorstep.
With a child clinging to her hand, and Pierce was standing just a couple feet behind her. “Hey,” he said, with a short wave. “We’re just on our way out, but I wanted to drop by those photos I’d mentioned.”
Brows drawing down, I obediently stepped back, allowing Kate, Thomas, and Pierce to come through into the entrance of my house.
His eyes met mine and I shivered, remembering what we’d done the last time he’d been in my home.
“Fixed that table,” he murmured.
My lips parted, a rush of air slipping through. Then I stuffed the urge to launch myself into his arms deep down—his sister and nephew were there for fuck’s sake. “New one,” I said, keeping my tone light as I blabbered. “I redecorated last year. New kitchen, new floors. The only place I didn’t touch was my bedroom.”
His eyes went hot.
Shit. That was a miscalculation, mentioning the whole ed-bay-oom-ray thing.
Last night had changed things between us. Hell, who was I kidding? It had always been different with Pierce than other men for me. I’d just been able to run and avoid, to pretend he was just the same as anyone else. But he was different. It was why I’d broken a rule by sleeping with him in the first place, why I’d looked out for him in the years since. Why I couldn’t stay away when I saw him.
Friends.
I’d really just wanted it to be that.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think that was where things would end up with us.
And that was absolutely terrifying.
I just didn't know what was more frightening—losing the small snippets of him I’d allowed into my life because I couldn’t be what he deserved or finding the strength to let down my barriers and allow him in.
It was why I lived my life in temporaries.
I just didn’t think I could live in temporaries with Pierce.
Where once I was able to ignore the draw, or at the very least smother the urge to leap into his arms, now I was on the struggle bus. Big time. Meeting his family, sitting with him on the porch, not needing to fill the silence, not having to be on or charming or funny. After my family had imploded, after my mom had died, I’d made sure to only need me.
And I wasn’t sure I’d ever had that.
A family that loved and cared and didn’t hurt—physically or emotionally. Sisters who teased and lifted up in equal turns, a dad who was quiet but steady and kind. A mom who was . . . strong enough to not allow someone to hurt her.
If I’d grown up in Pierce’s family—
“Your house is beautiful,” Kate exclaimed, pulling me from my thoughts. “And these floors are absolutely gorgeous. Was it a pain to have them redone? Hank and I are considering it.”
“Honestly?” I asked.
Kate nodded.
“I ended up staying in a hotel for a week,” I said, lips quirking. “I travel so much for work, but for some idiotic reason, I decided that I needed to be home to make sure they were doing it right.”
Pierce snorted.
“I know, I know,” I said. “My control freak tendencies are strong. But it backfired, because the one week I was home that month, I didn’t even get to sleep in my own bed.”
Kate laughed then bent to stroke her fingers across the wide, hand-scraped, gray plank. “Well, hotel or not, it was well worth it.”
“True,” I said, then swept a hand toward my kitchen. “Can I get you guys something to drink? A popsicle for Thomas?”
Thomas’s eyes perked up, and he nodded jerkily from his position at his mom’s side. “I think that’s a yes,” Kate said, smiling. “I’d love a water, too, if you don’t mind, Artie. Corralling these boys is hard work.”
Thomas nodded again. “I’m a terror,” he announced proudly.
“Well,” I said, smothering a laugh at his child honesty, “Mr. Terror, do you want to walk with me so you can pick out your popsicle?” I asked. “I also don’t think you finished telling me about T-rexes.”
He considered that. “Okay,” he said, and he walked over to take my hand, his shyness of being in a new place fading in the face of popsicles and dinosaur talk.
“Did you know that T-rexes had really bad breath?”
I shook my head solemnly. “No, I did not know that,” I said, leading us into the kitchen and opening up the freezer.
Thomas’s eyes widened.
Pierce whistled.
“I have an unhealthy obsession with popsicles,” I said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. It was the truth, though. I love them. The sugarier and more dye-filled, the better.
“I wish I could eat those and have an ass like yours,” Kate said enviously.
“The key is not caring what your ass looks like,” I said, then made a face, adding in a teasing tone. “Well, that and not having kids.”
She laughed, went along with my joke. “That’s true. They do ruin everything.”
I held up a box of popsicles. “So what’s your poison? Strawberry? Cherry? Grape? Or will you live on the edge and go for green apple?”
Kate hesitated then shrugged. “Why not? I’ll take strawberry.”
I handed her strawberry. “Thomas?”
“Cherry!”
I handed him cherry.
“Pierce?”
Silence.
I glanced up at him, saw that the smolder from almost six years before had made a reappearance. My mouth went dry, my thighs trembled, and—
“Here, honey, come over to the sink so I can help you with the wrapper,” Kate murmured, and my gaze flew to her and Thomas walking away from the freezer.
“Strawberry.”
I gulped.
How in the hell had the man made that sound sexy?
Oh, probably because he was burning me to cinders with his gaze.
I reached into the box, pulling out a strawberry popsicle and holding it out. Pierce took it, but slowly, his fingers drifting down the inside of my wrist and making me shiver.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Another shiver, barely able to nod at Kate when she asked if it was okay to take Thomas onto the back porch, so he didn’t drip on the floor.
Pierce was close.
Near enough that I could scent him, and that paired with him being in my house, just inches from me, so close that all my senses—touch, smell, taste, sight, hearing—were all on high alert, made my brain haze over.
My fingertips ached to run over his chest, to explore the abs I’d spent an evening kissing my way across.
My nose was filled with the spicy maleness of his scent.
My ears were filled with the pounding of my heartbeat.
My eyes traced up and down his body, reminding my mind how good it had been to be in his arms, to cuddle close and be held like I was important.
My mouth watered to taste his.
I licked my lips. Pierce’s head dropped so I could feel his hot breath puffing against them.
His vulnerability at the awards ceremony the previous year had lifted the bandage covering my need for him, had made me yearn to see him happy and fulfilled, even if it wasn’t with me.
The past nine months of planning the film had nudged that Band-Aid further, had made me wish when he found his happy and content it could be me, even while knowing that was impossible.
Scotland had prodded the bandage even more, overwhelming me with yearning, all while knowing it could not be.
And last night . . .
Well, last night, the bandage had disappeared.
I was flayed open and vulnerable. I wanted him, wanted more of how he made me feel special and included, more of his wonderful, teasing family.
It could not be.
Sighing and wondering why the mental statement gave me all sorts of Gandalf the Gray vibes from Lord of the Rings (“You shall not pass!”), I pushed the memory of my night with Pierce from my mind.
He was here for pictures. That was it.
But then he cupped my cheek, murmured, “Artie.”
I reached into the box, grabbed a popsicle at random, and whipped around to shove the remaining ice pops back in the freezer. It took me several tries to shove the box back in and close the door, probably crumpling it to hell and breaking them into tiny unsatisfying pieces, but in the end, I did manage to stow everything safely in the freezer.
Too bad I couldn’t fit.
If so, I could avoid what was coming next.
“She’s right.”
My forehead was resting against the cool metal when I asked, “Who’s right?”
“Kate.”
I tilted my head to the side, peered back at him over my shoulder. He’d returned to leaning back against the island, one ankle crossed over the other. I turned so my forehead was against the cool metal of the fridge again and asked, “About what?”
“Your ass is fantastic.”
Heat. One minute I was feeling totally fine—okay, lie, because I was definitely off-kilter. But one second, I was pulling the strands of my self-control together, shoring up my spine to do the right thing, and the next I was in flames. Desire pooled in my stomach, spreading out to my limbs, making my fingers tremble and almost dropping the popsicle, right along with my restraint.
Pierce recognized that and took the former from me, setting both of them on the counter before coming back and standing very close. His front was a hairsbreadth away from my spine, the heat radiating off him and seeping through the cotton of my shirt, warming my skin.
I spun to face him.
My willpower at resisting him was shredded simply by that proximity, by the way he stared down at me.
Need reflected back.
And softness.
That was the most dangerous. The softness.
I shook my head, attempting to clear it. “We can’t—”
“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmured, running his fingers lightly down my cheek, along my jaw. “Tell me you haven’t spent the last six years fighting whatever draw there is between us.”
“Pierce—” I shook my head again. “We shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t keep ignoring it,” he said, head dropping, lips trailing along the same path. “In that, I am in complete agreement.”
Gooseflesh erupted on my arms, my nape.
My hand lifted, to push him away, to tug him nearer. I wasn’t sure. “T-that’s not what I meant. Things are too complicated—”
“Because of the movie?” he asked, and I nodded, panic curling in my insides, desperation building, and out-pacing desire for the moment. I took a step forward, forcing Pierce to take a step back or our bodies would collide.
I wasn’t sure which option I wanted.
Fuck, who was I kidding? My body wanted to be pressed to his. It was my brain that was having a hard time keeping up.
The organ took the opportunity to grab on to any excuse to stop this before it went too far. “We can’t jeopardize the movie. It’s too important to both of us, and if we act on this and it goes wrong . . .”
We hadn’t crossed that point of no return.
If we did—
“You told me you wouldn’t be around much for actual filming,” he said, and my gut sank, remembering the conversation we’d had a few nights after I’d fled Scotland. It wasn’t like I planned to just drop everything to do with the project, but a lot of my initial legwork was done. I could review the dailies from anywhere, and God knew I had plenty of other work to fill the rest of my time. I’d used that excuse to create distance and . . .
Well, it was backfiring now, since he was using my reasoning against me.
Smart man. Infuriating man.
He settled his hands on my shoulders, massaging lightly. “This seems like as good a time as any to see what we could be, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ll have some time together, but it’ll be limited because we’re both going to our separate locations, because our work hours will be long and intense. So that time will be tempered, by the distance and the hours. It’ll force us to take things slow, to get to know each other.”
I shook my head.
Not because I necessarily thought he was wrong. Mostly, I shook it because I was trying to knock the argument from my mind. He was making sense, being reasonable . . .
And, fuck, I liked him.
I’d never liked a man this much before.
Never felt this connection or yearning or—he shifted so his hips brushed lightly against mine, making my nerves explode with sensation—temptation.
Yes. That was the word.
I lived my life in temporaries because I’d lived through my permanence being torn to shreds. I knew that stability could be a false façade, that everything could be ripped away in a moment’s notice.
Temporary was safe.
I didn’t get attached, and I could leave when things got dicey.
I wouldn’t get hurt.
Pierce could hurt me. He could absolutely devastate me. Just the thought of giving in and then losing him in the end was absolutely terrifying.
I couldn’t—I couldn’t do this, risk everything . . . I just couldn’t.