~~~
This was a terrible mistake.
Brennan lay on his back on top of his counterpane, naked. Next to him lay Erica, similarly naked.
He'd just had sex with her.
A cold feeling gripped his stomach. He recognized the sensation as terror. He'd gone and done exactly what he'd warned himself not to do. Gotten involved with her.
One couldn't get much more involved than naked and physically entwined.
With a sigh, she curled and snuggled against him.
The small movement, trusting, softened the bite of his terror. But softening his terror wasn't a good thing. If she was snuggling against him, it meant she wasn't feeling the mistake the same way he was.
Or, at least, not yet.
"I knew I was going to like that." She giggled breathily. "Just not that much."
A wave of gratification surged through him. Stupid gratification! As if her praise meant the start of anything. It didn't.
Nothing could grow out of the interaction they'd just had. Hell, he could already feel himself falling down a slope that was getting more slippery with every moment. And when he hit the bottom, he'd be destroyed.
But he'd just had sex with her. Certain conventions had to be upheld. "Amazing," he agreed. It was true, after all. He cleared his throat.
Beside him, she went still.
What had she heard? And how? Hastily, he turned and embraced her. Despite his recent climax and his anxiety, the sensation of her body in his arms sent an arc of lust through him. "Thank you," he told her. "I've been wanting to do that. Badly. And it was wonderful. Beyond anything I imagined."
She relaxed a little in his arms and hugged him back.
The dangerous part came when she pulled away to look at him. Brennan knew he had to meet her eyes. Forcefully, he put in mind how amazing their lovemaking had been: her tight muscles and soft breasts, the snug warmth built just for him. It was all true.
But as she looked at him, the softness in her eyes dimmed into a growing suspicion. One side of her mouth curled upward. "But?"
She was incredibly perceptive.
"But—nothing." Brennan found a smile. This mistake was his. She shouldn't have to pay for it. At the same time, he did need a way to stop this train.
She drew the edge of the counterpane over herself, covering her nakedness. "But—you hadn't planned this. You hadn't intended to get this...involved." Suspicion was now the dominant expression on her face.
He paused. She was exactly right, but... "Did either of us plan it?"
With one arm holding the counterpane over her, Erica looked up at him with her sky blue eyes. It was an unflinching, penetrating gaze. "Of course not. Neither of us planned this. Because neither of us was thinking." She tilted her head and waited. Handing him the conversational ball.
He pushed up onto one elbow and looked down at her. She was naked under the counterpane she clutched. If he gave her the correct response, he could unwrap her from the bedding and enjoy that marvelous body again.
But giving her that response would be disastrous, probably as much for her as it would be for him. He could not handle a relationship. Not once since Lois had he even tried to do so.
On the other hand, she deserved better than having him cut her off at the knees.
He picked at a loose thread on the blanket and thought carefully about his words. "Sometimes things that aren't planned turn into wonderful surprises. Other times, they turn out to be...mistakes." He glanced at her. "I think this was a little of both."
Her penetrating gaze dropped.
Shit. He reached to touch her.
She whisked her arm out of reach. "It's okay."
Her gesture clearly told him that it was not okay.
"Erica—"
"I get it." With her voice sharp, she sat up, still clutching the blanket to her. "It was a mistake. Of course it was. And I agree."
Had it been a mistake? Okay, he'd pretty much just said so. Yet, even so and even given his desperation to extricate himself from the situation, Brennan rebelled against the characterization. He sat up, too. "I'm not sorry about it."
This was true. It would be impossible to feel sorry he'd experienced Erica at her most glorious. And he had to admit that while inside her, for a few amazing moments, he'd felt fulfilled, as if he were doing what he was supposed to be doing.
But that didn't mean it hadn't been a mistake. Brennan knew from bitter experience that one's mind could play tricks, convincing a person that something potentially destructive was wonderful.
She obviously heard his thoughts better than his actual words. With a sharp look in his direction, she quickly unwound from the counterpane and then slid off the bed. She reached for and grabbed her knit shorts. "But it was still a mistake."
He swallowed at the sight of her naked body shimmying into her shorts. It occurred to him he wasn't going to get to see this again.
"Like I said already, I agree," she went on. She found her shirt and drew it over her head. "I haven't changed my mind about...things. I don't want to get involved with you."
Since this was exactly what Brennan had been thinking, the stab of pain her comment produced was inexplicable. To disguise this effect, he too got off the bed and scooped up his pants. Perhaps, given their mutually impulsive actions, it was inevitable they'd end up lashing out and hurting each other. So when Brennan spoke, he did his best to keep his voice even and his tone neutral. "I understand."
Erica's head emerged from the top of her shirt. She wiggled to straighten the garment. "So, we'll just put this whole thing down to 'better left forgotten.'"
"Right." The anger that was climbing up through his hurt was completely unfathomable. She was offering him exactly what he wanted.
She shoved her feet into her shoes. "I want you to know I'm not angry or anything."
"Neither am I." Brennan was well aware they were both lying through their teeth. "Let me—let me walk you out." Despite everything, he didn't feel ready to let her go. She'd never come here again, they'd never do this again... Hell, was he blaming her for that?
Grabbing her underthings in one hand and with her face a stone mask, Erica shrugged.
Brennan followed her down the stairs. The air was thick with everything each of them wasn't saying. Perhaps the frustration of future desire unfulfilled contributed its share to the tension.
Erica led the way to the kitchen and back to the door through which they'd entered, oh, so impetuously. She stood for a moment before it and then turned. She looked up at Brennan with a light of challenge in her eyes. "Listen. I think we should avoid each other from now on."
Not an unexpected conclusion, but Brennan felt as though she'd socked him in the gut. There was nothing to say, however, except: "Okay."
He was an idiot. He'd had her talking to him again, even laughing with him. They could have socialized together, been able to do things all together with Liam.
He'd screwed up everything.
Once again, she seemed to know what he was feeling. The hard expression on her face softened a little. "Look, you're a good guy, but neither one of us wants a relationship—at least not with each other." Her mouth curved ruefully. "And I think today demonstrates we're not very good at impulse control."
She was absolutely correct, practically saying out loud everything he'd been thinking, yet he couldn't help feeling resentful. "You're right."
She shot him a brief, unreadable look. "So—goodbye." Saying which, she whirled back toward the door, opened it, and closed it after her.
Slowly, on auto-pilot, Brennan turned the deadbolt.
He supposed he wasn't going to be making her dinner tonight after all.