Page 22 of Consumed By You

“So you paid to be nearly handicapped for the rest of your life? Interesting.”

“You don’t like them?” I feign innocence, knowing all the while that I’m leading myself down a dark path.

Don’t flirt with him! Don’t flirt with him!

His grip tightens on my weak ankles, rubbing them, massaging them, and my insides quiver.

“I like them very much, Darcy.” His heated glimpse at what this could be paralyzes me and I’m left ogling him, unable to look away. I don’t want to. A whole weekend trying to reason with myself can’t cure this. He has some kind of dominion over me. I didn’t even know feelings like this existed, wanting someone this much.

He’s the first to divert his gaze. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“What?” I murmur, dazed.

“You were about to ask me something.”

“Oh, yes.” I snap out of it, blushing profusely, and I can swear there is a smug smirk on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “You haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

He frowns. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

“There’s not much to say.”

“Okay, let’s start with your parents.”

“My parents are cold, distant. I barely speak to them,” he says quietly. I can tell he doesn’t like this subject.

“Your brother mentioned you have a sister. Are you all close?”

I jump a little as he removes my shoes one by one. He rubs, bringing circulation back into my feet. This is so inappropriate. I should stop him…maybe in another minute.

“Yes, I guess you could say we are. I don’t see my sister much. She lives in London.”

“Oh? What does she do?”

“She’s a magazine editor.” I close my eyes for a moment, deep in the pleasure of his massage skills.

“Your family is so accomplished.”

He hums his assent. “Here you are pressuring me for information when you haven’t told me all that much about yourself either.”

“I told you I’m boring.” I laugh, biting my lip. His hands stop moving and my eyes reluctantly open.

“I’m serious. You’re honestly a mystery to me, Darcy.” He takes a deep breath and I shrink, not liking how this conversation is turning. “You drive me crazy.”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what he wants me to say. I shift and take my legs off of him, finding my equilibrium. “Who did you see this weekend, Ben?”

“What?”

“When you left my apartment, did you go see anyone? Or did you go home?”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” The attendant is standing in front of us, and we both look up in a daze, remembering where we are. This girl seriously has the worst timing.

“Water for me. Darcy?”

“The same. Thank you,” I reply, turning my frustrated gaze to the window. The attendant leaves and we remain completely silent, my last words hanging heavily in the air. We both know the answer to my question.

“Darcy, we are not dating. I’m allowed to see other women,” he says intensely, and even though it’s not supposed to, a knife twists in my gut.