her way straight to the kitchen where she filled a glass with water and immediately drained it down.
Ren leaned against the door jamb and watched her fill it a second time. Her gaze slid to his. "Uh..."
"Yeah," he said. "My sentiments exactly." He didn't know what to say or think beyond that. She didn't want a mentor, meaning she didn't want sex with him. No doubt it was a crazy idea. It would be weird. He got all that. But then why moments later were they going at it like they were horny teenagers?
"Really." Cilla set her glass on the countertop and turned to face him, her back to the granite bullnose. "It's better if we don't."
"Your decision."
Her fingers curled around the counter behind her. "Do you mean you want to?"
As she said, it would be better to forego it. He was leaving in less than two weeks, she didn't want a mentor now, and he couldn't be anything more than something so casual. Yeah, he'd considered he'd be doing her a favor, but now that he thought it over further, the idea of having him teach her about sex so she could find happiness with another man seemed arrogant. Or maybe asshat-ish. Definitely no longer to his taste.
He strolled forward to pick up her abandoned glass and suck down its contents. "You're right," he said. "We shouldn't."
When he set the tumbler down, his hand brushed her forearm.
Then they were kissing again. He had her hips pinned to the lower cabinets with his, her face caged in his fingers, his tongue in her mouth. Lust had him by the balls and he gasped for breath even as his lips moved to her throat. She tasted salty and sweet at the same time and his fingertips tingled, remembering the feel of her damp flesh against them, anticipating the pleasure of the wet flesh between her legs.
It was going to happen, he was sure of it.
Until the loud whine of a leaf blower had his head jerking up. "What the—?" He stared out the mullioned French door to the courtyard, where a short man in a straw hat was sending leaves scurrying across the cement. The little guy waved with his free hand.
Ren looked down to see that Cilla was waving weakly back. "Is the universe trying to tell us something?" he asked.
She moved, and he instantly dropped his hands and stepped back. "Seems that way. I guess we really shouldn't do this."
"Yeah. Really." Ren pushed his hands through his hair. "Shit."
"Is this going to be awkward?"
"No," he said, instant and adamant, in case she thought again of kicking him out of the compound. He hadn't forgotten the two strangers scaling the wall. Gwen would have his ass for leaving Cilla alone with the empty houses and the deserted grounds. "Not for me."
Her chin lifted. "Not for me either."
He shoved his hands in his pockets. "We'll be friends."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Exactly."
They stared at each other for a long moment, then Ren shifted his focus to the gardener just outside. "We should get out of here." The whine of the leaf blower was giving him a headache. "Go somewhere."
She eyed him. "Together?"
"Why not?" He took another step back from her. "Somewhere with lots of people. And action. Things to look at."
"Hmm." She seemed to be thinking, then a smile broke over her face. "I have just the place."
"Good."
Her mouth pursed as she continued to eye him. "You're sure? You're sure this is okay? That we're friends. And that your mood...it's better now?"
"Friends." And fuck no, his mood was three-million times worse.
Cilla breathed a silent sigh of relief as she exited the passenger seat of Ren's rented Beemer and stepped into the late morning sunshine. Getting away from the compound was good. This time out would provide an opportunity for any residual strangeness from the nearly-naked-night, the mentoring-that-wasn't-to-be, and the-kisses-that-shouldn't-have-happened to fade. That attraction they'd both admitted to in Gwen's kitchen could slide from a boil to a simmer to a friendly warmth because that's the way they both wanted things to
Ren leaned against the door jamb and watched her fill it a second time. Her gaze slid to his. "Uh..."
"Yeah," he said. "My sentiments exactly." He didn't know what to say or think beyond that. She didn't want a mentor, meaning she didn't want sex with him. No doubt it was a crazy idea. It would be weird. He got all that. But then why moments later were they going at it like they were horny teenagers?
"Really." Cilla set her glass on the countertop and turned to face him, her back to the granite bullnose. "It's better if we don't."
"Your decision."
Her fingers curled around the counter behind her. "Do you mean you want to?"
As she said, it would be better to forego it. He was leaving in less than two weeks, she didn't want a mentor now, and he couldn't be anything more than something so casual. Yeah, he'd considered he'd be doing her a favor, but now that he thought it over further, the idea of having him teach her about sex so she could find happiness with another man seemed arrogant. Or maybe asshat-ish. Definitely no longer to his taste.
He strolled forward to pick up her abandoned glass and suck down its contents. "You're right," he said. "We shouldn't."
When he set the tumbler down, his hand brushed her forearm.
Then they were kissing again. He had her hips pinned to the lower cabinets with his, her face caged in his fingers, his tongue in her mouth. Lust had him by the balls and he gasped for breath even as his lips moved to her throat. She tasted salty and sweet at the same time and his fingertips tingled, remembering the feel of her damp flesh against them, anticipating the pleasure of the wet flesh between her legs.
It was going to happen, he was sure of it.
Until the loud whine of a leaf blower had his head jerking up. "What the—?" He stared out the mullioned French door to the courtyard, where a short man in a straw hat was sending leaves scurrying across the cement. The little guy waved with his free hand.
Ren looked down to see that Cilla was waving weakly back. "Is the universe trying to tell us something?" he asked.
She moved, and he instantly dropped his hands and stepped back. "Seems that way. I guess we really shouldn't do this."
"Yeah. Really." Ren pushed his hands through his hair. "Shit."
"Is this going to be awkward?"
"No," he said, instant and adamant, in case she thought again of kicking him out of the compound. He hadn't forgotten the two strangers scaling the wall. Gwen would have his ass for leaving Cilla alone with the empty houses and the deserted grounds. "Not for me."
Her chin lifted. "Not for me either."
He shoved his hands in his pockets. "We'll be friends."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Exactly."
They stared at each other for a long moment, then Ren shifted his focus to the gardener just outside. "We should get out of here." The whine of the leaf blower was giving him a headache. "Go somewhere."
She eyed him. "Together?"
"Why not?" He took another step back from her. "Somewhere with lots of people. And action. Things to look at."
"Hmm." She seemed to be thinking, then a smile broke over her face. "I have just the place."
"Good."
Her mouth pursed as she continued to eye him. "You're sure? You're sure this is okay? That we're friends. And that your mood...it's better now?"
"Friends." And fuck no, his mood was three-million times worse.
Cilla breathed a silent sigh of relief as she exited the passenger seat of Ren's rented Beemer and stepped into the late morning sunshine. Getting away from the compound was good. This time out would provide an opportunity for any residual strangeness from the nearly-naked-night, the mentoring-that-wasn't-to-be, and the-kisses-that-shouldn't-have-happened to fade. That attraction they'd both admitted to in Gwen's kitchen could slide from a boil to a simmer to a friendly warmth because that's the way they both wanted things to
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