His Dark Obsession

Chapter 29: Coaxing a Confession (Part 2)

"You ask 'why' like she did something wrong. Am I that desirable that to not be interested in me is a crime?"
Tara knew he was joking as he said this, but she felt her heart race at an insane pace all the same. He was clearly bashful; she had never seen him full of himself, she had always found him attentive of others and least bothered about how physically charming/attractive he was. He was an echelon above the men considered classically handsome; he was good-looking, but also sexy as hell. Maybe it was his incredibly toned physique or maybe it was his dark, brooding features - the thick black hair and the strikingly blue eyes. She knew he couldn't possibly fathom what women saw when they looked at him. Or maybe he had a slight inkling?! He did have a mirror at home!
She was reminded of his kiss, of his touch in that moment. For reasons, unexplained, Ian Blaine had kissed her; with a passion that she had felt in the very core of her, his touch was still imprinted on her and she still remembered the feel of his hands on her. She realized that thinking about all this while sitting with him was an extremely dangerous territory. He was near. They were alone. And the look he had in his eyes could only be defined as intimate. She felt herself burn to a crisp red under his perusal.
Tara checked herself immediately; she must not forget that she was in a committed relationship - with his best friend. She couldn't stare directly at him, it was extremely unsettling. She looked around the room, instead, as if each piece of furniture and decor was something of immense fascination. The irony in her actions didn't fail on her; for to be in the presence of Ian Blaine was a point of fascination for most women - and she was feigning interest in wood! She was playing with fire by being here. She must leave or be prepared to burn away. She resented Brooke for throwing herself at him so wantonly. Didn't her being here fall into the same category? She reminded herself that she had come to him to express her anger and all of that had somehow culminated into an intimate moment between the two of them. She told herself she was going to leave...soon. She had to.
Tara realized that her questions about Brooke were intrusive; she had no right to ask him about his past relationships. She was behaving like a jealous girlfriend, questioning him about an ex. She could see that Ian had noticed her irritation as she discussed Brooke with him. She then tried to explain her comment about Brooke in a way that she (hopefully) felt made her appear casual.
"I mean, I want to know why she felt it was a bad idea back then when now she was practically throwing herself at you!"
His reply was a matter-of-factly statement, "I dont know, only Brooke can answer that question."
But she saw it, the sudden, concealed wince that made her think that though he wished to appear unaffected by what had transpired between him and Brooke, she seemed to have hurt him. "Did she hurt you when she chose Erik?"
"A little." He confided in her. She immediately felt connected to him on a deeper level following his admission. Ian was letting her in and for some reason, she felt drawn. Completely. They were both silent after that. If someone had dropped a pin in the quiet of the room, they would have heard it. The silence was unbearable to Tara. She found objects to intrigue her in order to dissimulate her feelings and then she heard him say the words, the words that she both dreaded and wanted to her.
"Tara, you didn't ask why it happened?"
This was the moment. She must leave now, she must but her mouth spoke of its own accord, "We are not talking about Brooke and you anymore?"
He replied in affirmative and confirmed to her that there was nothing going on between him and Brooke. Why he needed to tell her that she didn't know...or did she? She suddenly felt brave enough to ask the one question that was going to instantaneously change things as they were, "Ok, then...why did it happen?"
She waited not knowing what he was going to say. Deep down she wished for it to be an admission of desire but consciously she dreaded what was coming.
"I like you."
Ian Blaine was going to be the death of her. The man who would make her throw common sense, commitement, logical reasoning - all of it, out of the window. Was she really hearing all this? She hadn't just imagined it? He had feelings for her? Was that what he was saying to her? And, as if he had heard the innumerable questions going through his mind, he reiterated himself.
"I like you. A little too much."