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Rhett sighs again, like the weight of this resort rests on his shoulders.
Well, it kind of does.
After a long moment he replies, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
What? I just poured my heart out to him—literally told him my past trauma—and he says no?
I sit up, pulling away. “Why not?”
An emotion just beyond what I can pinpoint swirls in his eyes. Pain, maybe? Fear? It’s definitely hesitation.
“You think sex will solve all the problems with this magic, but what if it doesn’t? Have you considered that maybe Callie and Jeff simply aren’t as connected as you think?”
“No,” I say flatly, to which he chuckles.
“Oh, Cristina, what am I going to do with you?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No.”
My shoulders slump. Is it that he doesn’t want to have sex with me? He doesn’t think I’m pretty enough? Hot enough? Rich enough? Maybe I’m too low-class for him.
Shit. What am I gonna do? I’ve got to lose.
“I get it,” I tell him, not getting it at all.
“Whoa. Wait.”
He grabs my wrist, and a fire breaks out on my skin. “What?”
“You’ve got the wrong idea about why I’m saying no.”
“Then explain, because the way I see it, you don’t want me.”
His jaw flexes for a moment, like he’s deciding what to say. He slides his hand down and threads his fingers in mine.
“I’m not saying no because I don’t want to. I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid if we sleep together, it’s not going to ruin anything. I think . . .”
He’s looking down, and I move until I’m in his line of sight. “You think what?”
He blinks, and a small smile curls his lips. “If we do this, it’ll make it harder for me.”
“Why’s that?”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple dipping. “Because I won’t be able to pretend this isn’t real anymore.”
My throat goes dry. I think about how in sync we’ve been since the beginning, the kiss at the fair, how my stomach somersaults when he’s near, how there’s been something magnetic between us ever since we first met.
I won’t be able to pretend this isn’t real anymore.
What if it’s always been real and I’ve just been too busy pushing him away to realize it? And what if . . . what if the magic has been right all along? He is my soulmate—I’ve simply been too distracted to accept it?
But of course I don’t tell him any of this. All I come up with is “Too real?”
“Cristina, I think we both know there’s something between us. Now, I’m not going to pretend I know what it is, but I know if we sleep together, it’s going to have the opposite effect of what you want.”
The opposite . . . ?
