she’s had a ton of experience.”
Sasha rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
He closed his eyes briefly. After checking to make sure his sister was still gone, he leaned in close. “No, I really fucked up. She stripped her shirt off. I accused her of just wanting me because of the cameras, made out with her a little on my dining table, acted like an asshole and watched as she ran out.”
“Oh.”
“I fucked up.”
“Indeed.” They were silent. Mason fiddled with his napkin. “So…do you like Maira?”
“I’ve always liked her. I was thinking lately…” Sasha paused awkwardly, since he wasn’t really good at talking about his personal life, not even to his best friend, “…maybe it might be something more.”
“More? More as in, you-like-having-lunch-with-her more, or more as in you’d-die-if-you-never-saw-her-again more?”
He stared at his friend. Never see her again?
Never talk to her about a problem, never hear her laugh, never ever have any contact with her? Every fiber in his being rejected that scenario. “I…I can’t not see her again. I just can’t.”
Mason brightened. “Okay. This is good, awesome.”
“Good?” Nothing was good about this situation. Nothing.
“Well, it would really suck if you were disgusted at the thought of kissing her or something. I think it’s pretty clear what you have to do.”
“What?”
“Tell her that you fucked up, that she’s a goddess among women, and you didn’t mean anything that you said.”
“And if that doesn’t work out?”
Mason frowned at him. “It’ll work.”
Sasha thought of the courage it must have taken Maira—reserved, shy Maira—to strip her shirt off for him in the bright daylight of his kitchen. He thought of the things he’d said and her shamed, heartbroken face as she’d run out. Misery coiled inside of him. “And if it doesn’t?”
Mason sighed. “Then lock her in a room, get down on your knees, and don’t get up until she’s ready to listen to you beg.”
It was definitely easier to think about begging for forgiveness than it was to actually get up the gumption to go do it.
Sasha sat in his truck and stared at Maira’s little gingerbread house. The windows were all dark. And why wouldn’t they be, he thought with a grimace. It was almost eleven. If she wasn’t at work, she was tucked safely away in bed.
Of course, thoughts of her in bed led quickly to thoughts of him in her bed. He shifted. Nice thoughts. Very nice indeed.
A tinge of shame made him shake the image away. He didn’t have the right to think of her like that right now. Focus.
He considered her dark house. He couldn’t very well just go marching up to her door and apologize. And he couldn’t call her and do it over the phone.
Actually, you could do either of those things. Sasha reluctantly conceded that. If he wanted to salve his conscience or just wanted to put her at ease enough that she’d let them go back to being friends, he would have no problem picking up his cell and phoning his apology in.
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn’t want that. He was greedy. He wanted more.
Maybe, just maybe, Maira was the only woman he’d ever really considered getting serious about because Maira was the only woman for him.
Oh yeah, you think?
He winced. No one had ever called him brilliant. Particularly where women were concerned.
Just go home. If it were you who had been humiliated like this, would you forgive? Maira wasn’t him, though. She had a huge heart under that no-nonsense exterior. She loved him.
Sasha’s lips firmed. She loved him. It was unthinkable that they wouldn’t sort this out. Hell, he wasn’t about to take something like this laying down. He’d win her back.
A plan.
He smiled as the idea solidified in his mind. Yes. He needed a plan. All of his problems tended to happen when he went rushing into things, right? He’d come up with a step-by-step plan
Sasha rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
He closed his eyes briefly. After checking to make sure his sister was still gone, he leaned in close. “No, I really fucked up. She stripped her shirt off. I accused her of just wanting me because of the cameras, made out with her a little on my dining table, acted like an asshole and watched as she ran out.”
“Oh.”
“I fucked up.”
“Indeed.” They were silent. Mason fiddled with his napkin. “So…do you like Maira?”
“I’ve always liked her. I was thinking lately…” Sasha paused awkwardly, since he wasn’t really good at talking about his personal life, not even to his best friend, “…maybe it might be something more.”
“More? More as in, you-like-having-lunch-with-her more, or more as in you’d-die-if-you-never-saw-her-again more?”
He stared at his friend. Never see her again?
Never talk to her about a problem, never hear her laugh, never ever have any contact with her? Every fiber in his being rejected that scenario. “I…I can’t not see her again. I just can’t.”
Mason brightened. “Okay. This is good, awesome.”
“Good?” Nothing was good about this situation. Nothing.
“Well, it would really suck if you were disgusted at the thought of kissing her or something. I think it’s pretty clear what you have to do.”
“What?”
“Tell her that you fucked up, that she’s a goddess among women, and you didn’t mean anything that you said.”
“And if that doesn’t work out?”
Mason frowned at him. “It’ll work.”
Sasha thought of the courage it must have taken Maira—reserved, shy Maira—to strip her shirt off for him in the bright daylight of his kitchen. He thought of the things he’d said and her shamed, heartbroken face as she’d run out. Misery coiled inside of him. “And if it doesn’t?”
Mason sighed. “Then lock her in a room, get down on your knees, and don’t get up until she’s ready to listen to you beg.”
It was definitely easier to think about begging for forgiveness than it was to actually get up the gumption to go do it.
Sasha sat in his truck and stared at Maira’s little gingerbread house. The windows were all dark. And why wouldn’t they be, he thought with a grimace. It was almost eleven. If she wasn’t at work, she was tucked safely away in bed.
Of course, thoughts of her in bed led quickly to thoughts of him in her bed. He shifted. Nice thoughts. Very nice indeed.
A tinge of shame made him shake the image away. He didn’t have the right to think of her like that right now. Focus.
He considered her dark house. He couldn’t very well just go marching up to her door and apologize. And he couldn’t call her and do it over the phone.
Actually, you could do either of those things. Sasha reluctantly conceded that. If he wanted to salve his conscience or just wanted to put her at ease enough that she’d let them go back to being friends, he would have no problem picking up his cell and phoning his apology in.
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn’t want that. He was greedy. He wanted more.
Maybe, just maybe, Maira was the only woman he’d ever really considered getting serious about because Maira was the only woman for him.
Oh yeah, you think?
He winced. No one had ever called him brilliant. Particularly where women were concerned.
Just go home. If it were you who had been humiliated like this, would you forgive? Maira wasn’t him, though. She had a huge heart under that no-nonsense exterior. She loved him.
Sasha’s lips firmed. She loved him. It was unthinkable that they wouldn’t sort this out. Hell, he wasn’t about to take something like this laying down. He’d win her back.
A plan.
He smiled as the idea solidified in his mind. Yes. He needed a plan. All of his problems tended to happen when he went rushing into things, right? He’d come up with a step-by-step plan
Similar Books
