Page 57 of Betrayal

“He looked pretty happy when he left.”But Niall, like Hunter, was keeping secrets from his lover.

“Sex isn’t enough on its own.”

Hell, she was admitting something Hunter was still denying.She and he had more than sex.He was the one placing limitations on what they might have.Permanence wasn’t an option for him.Maybe he’d made a mistake thinking Anna was comfortable taking this one day at a time.

“I said happy, not randy.”

“His craft is a core part of who he is.He’s taken no pay to intern with major craftsmen.He’s lost girlfriends because he wouldn’t make cheap knockoffs.”She raised her fists in frustration.“You can’t stop being who you are and still be happy.”

“You can’t make it work for them.”And that was a pathetic response, but her comment hit a nerve.

Hunter still had secrets, and while Anna would forgive him certain transgressions, there were others, like Nick’s role in Hunter’s breakup with Gina that he wasn’t so sure about.She wouldn’t be content indefinitely if all he offered her was sex—regardless of how good the sex was.He wasn’t sure he could offer more.With her, he was beginning to want to.

“I can help, if asked.I can be there to pick up the pieces.”She stood, flashed him an impish smile, and—what was that word she’d used—sashay.She sashayed toward him.

She wasn’t just gorgeous.She was honest and generous and loyal.She didn’t cross-examine him about his movements, who he saw, who he lunched with.She wasn’t interested in his secrets per se—she expected intimacy, a sharing of hopes, dreams and fears, and he was denying her true closeness, denyingthemtrue closeness.She might hate him for it, but now he couldn’t resist the light and joy she offered.

“Right now, I’ve got other plans.”She patted his chest.“Want help getting out of that shirt?”

“I can manage my own.”To demonstrate, he began pulling his shirt over his head.

She pressed her nose to his sternum.“You always smell delicious.”

“Come on site with me one day.”

She leaned back, giving a shimmy that shifted his arousal from a hum to a roar.“Do you wear a tool belt?”

“Boots, tool belt, hard hat, and not a stitch more.”

“Surely you’d need a jockstrap”—she giggled—“for protection?”Her hand brushed over the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You’re messing with my fantasy.”

“Why don’t we make one to share?”

She walked her fingers up his chest, and he’d swear the reverberations shot to his toes.

“I’d like that.”

He slipped his hands under her knees and carried her to bed.Sharing with Anna was a kind of drug.While he might tell himself inviting anyone permanently into his life, with Nick Richardson circling, was asking for trouble, letting Anna go now was unthinkable.