Pleasure spiraled through her and she moaned. He thrust into her again and again and her senses rippled with acute pleasure.
His fingers stroked through her hair and he cupped her head as he murmured, “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so much.”
His words blazed through her consciousness, and the swelling pleasure burst into a mind-blowing orgasm. Ecstasy encompassed her, expanding to an infinite sense of bliss.
Trey loved her!
Oh God. What the hell was I thinking?
Danielle gazed at Trey’s strong classic features, illuminated by the soft moonlight shimmering in the window. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. She snuggled a little closer, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat so close to hers.
He had told her he loved her. And, for a while, she had believed him. Not that she believed he had lied . . . just that he had gotten caught up in the emotions of the moment.
Worse, she had fallen under the same spell and convinced herself she loved him, too. This week with Trey and his sisters . . . feeling part of a family . . . having someone care about her and hold her in a time of emotional crisis . . . had gotten the better of her. She wanted so much to belong, to be loved. It had been natural, to believe she was actually in love.
Now she had to worry about damage control. First thing in the morning, she had to set Trey straight. Without hurting him.
That was the tricky part.
She pressed her cheek again his warm smooth chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.
Oh, how she dreaded the arrival of morning.
Trey opened his eyes to a soft hand stroking his cheek. He smiled at Danielle as she sat beside him on the bed. But as soon as his gaze locked with hers, his heart compressed.
Something was wrong.
He took her hand and kissed her palm. “What is it?”
She pursed her lips, her emerald eyes shimmering.
Something was definitely wrong.
“I . . . have to leave,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because last night was . . . a mistake.”
He kissed her hand again, then held it as he sat up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you said you loved me . . .” She sighed. “I should have said something then, but . . .”
He crossed his legs and turned to face her. He took both her hands in his. He could tell by her expression that she wasn’t about to proclaim her love in return.
“Danielle, I love you.”
She shook her head and he drew in a breath.
“I know you’re not ready to accept it, and that’s fine, but I do love you.”
“No, you don’t, Trey.”
“Yes, I do. With your background, I know you’ll have a hard time accepting love—”
“No, that’s not it.” She stared hard into his eyes. “I know I have issues, I’m not denying that, but . . . the reason I believe you can’t love me is because”—she stroked his cheek and gazed at him with a tender look—“you can’t love anyone else until you love yourself.”
He stared at her in total incomprehension. This was about her, not him. What was she trying to say?
“Why do you think I don’t love myself?”
“Trey, you don’t accept who you are. In college, you and Jake were in love. No matter what your feelings are for him now, that was true then. But you don’t accept that. You don’t accept that you can love a man.”
“I love being with women.”
“But, at least once, you loved a man.”
Anger shot through him, but he tamped it down. “Look, Danielle, I don’t know why you’re on about this, but Jake and I have moved on, that’s all. We’re friends now.”
“I think we both know that you two are way more than friends. After all the weekends we’ve spent together, are you seriously going to classify him as a friend?”
“No . . . I . . . It doesn’t matter. Jake is fine with our relationship as it is.”
“Well, I’m not. I don’t think it’s fair to leave him out in the cold because you can’t admit to your family what truly makes you happy.”
He hesitated.
“I can’t tell,” she continued, “if you chose to be with me because it’s what your heart wants, or it’s simply what you believe your family wants. And I’m sorry, Trey, but that’s not good enough for me.”
“My family has nothing to do with this.”
“So you’re fine with telling them that you also enjoy being with men?”
“There’s no reason to tell them. My sexual preference is immaterial to my relationship with my sisters.”
“Unless hiding it gets in the way of being who you are.”
“And who do you think I am?” he bit out.
“A man who loves a man and is afraid to admit it . . . even to himself.”
“You’re wrong, Danielle. It’s you I love.”
Danielle shook her head and drew her hands from his. He caught her wrist and drew her back.
“Look me right in the eye and tell me you don’t love me,” he demanded.
She gazed at him, her eyes glimmering in the morning light. She shook her head. “I can’t.”
He smiled triumphantly.
“I feel it—the same thing you do—but I know it’s not real. The strong feelings I have for you . . . that I could so easily mistake for love . . . are just me wanting to be a part of a family. Your family. But it wouldn’t be fair to pretend I love you, just to get what I want. Just because it’s the easy choice.”
She stood up and pulled on her robe.
“I can’t stay here, Trey. You can tell your sisters I had to get home, that something came up. Probably easiest just to say I had a deadline come up with work.”
“Don’t go, Danielle.”
She met his gaze. His chest tightened when he
