Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
RENLEY
Renley: I like him and I’m in trouble. I let him touch my boob in the pond. He rolled my nipple. What the hell am I doing?
Renley: I know, I’m sorry. I tried to just sit on it, act like it was nothing, but I’m screaming on the inside here. I need to talk this out. I told him I just want to be friends, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, especially after I was running my hand up and down his erection tonight.
Tilly: Oh my God, what the hell happened?
Renley: That’s what I’m saying, I’m losing touch with reality here.
I’m forgetting that I’m supposed to keep my distance from this man, and instead, I feel like I’m spending all my time with him, enjoying his company, and playing truth or dare in a pond at night with him where all we do is tempt each other sexually.
Tilly: Consider me intrigued.
Renley: Tilly, this is not helpful.
Tilly: What do you want me to say?
Renley: You’re supposed to tell me to get it together. Just because he’s nice and caring and has been there for me doesn’t mean that I need to give in to his advances.
Tilly: *Scratches head* And why not?
Renley: Because I’m not looking for anything like that.
Tilly: A lot of the time, people aren’t looking for an intimate relationship, and yet that’s when they find one. So I don’t see what the problem is here other than you’re too scared to move forward with something that could actually be good.
Renley: I AM scared.
Tilly: I’m glad that you can admit to that, very big of you.
Renley: I don’t want to get hurt.
Tilly: Who’s to say that he will hurt you?
Renley: This entire situation has been formed to hurt me. Sending me some hot, British piece of man meat who is funny, and kind, and actually cares about me, and is persistent and intriguing and cares about what I do and my success. Giving him a timeline…it’s cruel.
Tilly: But did he say he’s following through with that timeline?
Renley: We don’t talk about it. And to be honest, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.
Tilly: You don’t either.
Renley: Which is a recipe for disaster. I’ve seen that scenario play out far too many times with my dad and aunt. They just go into a situation, unsure, flying by the seat of their pants; it’s never worked out.
Tilly: But you’re not them.
Renley: Because I tend to stay away from the unknown. I’ve learned from their mistakes.
Tilly: Your dad was also never with anyone else. And your aunt Kitty is alone, with no direction. Don’t you think that if they had a counterpart, someone to help keep them grounded, that they might have had better lives?
Renley: I don’t need Theo as a keeper.
Tilly: No, you need him for the opposite. You’re so locked in, so concentrated on not repeating the Gossage mistakes, that you’re not allowing yourself to explore, have fun…let your nipple be touched in a pond.
Renley: But I did let that happen.
Tilly: And you need more of it. Tell me this, how did it feel?
Renley: Like I was losing control in the best way possible. Which is why I pulled away and ditched him. God, I hope he made it back to his house safely.
Tilly: Why don’t you ask him?
Renley: I’m too nervous.
Tilly: Then I can’t help you. This is on you, Renley. You know where I stand. Now it’s up to you to see whether you want to make the move or not.
I rest my head against the wall where I’m propped up on my bed.
When I got back from the pond, I took a shower, lotioned my entire body, and then slipped into a tank top and pajama shorts.
I sat on my bed, thinking, mulling, and thinking some more, and that’s when I texted Tilly, my mind racing too much.
And I want to complain and say she didn’t help me, but I know, deep down, that like she said, no one can really help me with this. It’s all on me.
I look out my window, toward Theo’s house, where the lights are still on. What is he doing over there? Did he make it back okay? Is Rupert wondering where he is?
I pull on my bottom lip, guilt consuming me from ditching him.
I know my way around the woods with ease, but he doesn’t.
He could have gotten lost. Gone in the wrong direction.
Tripped and fallen and suffered a broken leg.
He could be out there right now, calling for help while Rupert roams around the house aimlessly trying to find him.
And I know that’s ridiculous, but because that guilt consumes me, I find myself texting him.
Renley: Please tell me you made it back to your place okay. Also, I’m sorry for ditching you like that.
When I’m done texting, I set my phone to the side, dragging my hands over my face. Ugh, why am I doing this to myself? And what do I really want?
My body knows exactly what I want, even my brain does, but it’s the wall around my heart that’s controlling the narrative right now.
My phone buzzes next to me and I quickly pick it up, reading his text.
Theo: Glad you asked. After I used my dick as a pole vault to launch myself out of the pond, I army-crawled my way back to the house.
When I arrived, I collapsed through the door, leaves and branches sticking out of my hair, mud strewn across my face.
Rupert thought I had just come back from a jungle raid and like the good butler that he is, he bathed me—sponge and all—dried me and took me to my chambers, where I’ve been resting my worn and weathered body ever since.
I chuckle reading his words.
He knows how to put me at ease.
Because, yeah, I ditched him, but instead of yelling at me or telling me off, he passes it off as a joke, just like the toilet thing earlier. It takes a strong person to do that, a compassionate person.
I’m unsure I’ve ever met anyone like him of the opposite sex.
An overwhelming sense of need to see him pulses through me and before I can stop myself, I text him back.
Renley: Can you meet me outside?
Theo: Yes, let me just snap for my butler. He might have to warm up before he brings me outside, as carrying me is no easy feat.
Theo: Also, see you in a second.
Smiling, I set my phone down and tiptoe down the stairs, not wanting to wake Aunt Kitty, even though I can hear her snoring in her room.
I slip on my sandals and sneak out the front door, down my porch steps, and to the edge of our lawn just as Theo comes out of his house, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.
He must have taken a shower as well because his hair is damp and disheveled, but there isn’t an ounce of mud on him.
As he saunters up to me, I let my eyes roam his thick, muscular chest, noting the way the moon lights up his abs, defining them; they almost look unnatural. His arms are not bulky with muscle at all, but defined, like he’s spent his entire life swimming.
And that grin on his face, that’s all he has to do to make me weak, because I’ve become accustomed to that smile. I’ve come to rely on it. And as he closes the space between us, I can feel myself weaken all over again.
He glances around and then whispers, “This isn’t some sort of late-night sneak attack where an army comes out from the bushes and tries to take pictures of my feet to sell on the internet, is it?”
I chuckle. “Seriously, why does your mind go there?”
“Wish I could tell you,” he answers. His eyes roam my body for a moment and then he nods at my shirt. “Your tank top is almost see-through.”
I glance down at it and then back at him. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Tend to not wear one at night, as it suffocates me.”
“Why do you think I wear such a thin tank top?”
“So your boobs can take over the storyline and go every which way they want at night?”
“That would be correct.”
He smirks, taking another step forward but leaving just enough distance between us that I feel itchy, like I need him to close the space and touch me.
“So, is this what you like to do? Ditch people in a pond and then demand they talk to you afterward, out on your lawn, barely decent in their night clothes?”
“About that,” I say, feeling incredibly guilty. “I’m—”
“Don’t apologize,” he says, looking so genuine and sincere. “Seriously, I’m just kidding. There is no need to apologize.”
“I left you, alone and in the dark.”
“And although I might have peed myself the entire way home, thinking the night goblins were going to get me, I’m okay.”
I take his hand in mine, linking our fingers together. “Why do you always have to just laugh it off? Don’t you get tired of it?”
“No, because life isn’t that serious, at least little things like this. I know you’re battling with some baggage and that’s okay. I’m not going to hold that against you. I’m here to support, I’m here for you to touch when you want to touch, and I’m just here to get to know you better.”
I glance down at our connected hands, his words once again what I needed in the moment. And I’m desperate to know why he’s so good at that, how he’s so good at putting me at ease when he’s had such a troubled past himself.
“Do you mean that?” I ask. “Or is it just routine for you to say?” When he questions me with a quirk of his brow, I elaborate. “It’s just such a healthy response, and I don’t think that I’d act the same way if the roles were reversed.”
His free hand cups my cheek as he softly says, “I mean it. I know I came into this situation in an odd way and it’s taken you a while to trust me, but I’m not going to say things just to say them, Renley. I mean it.”
“I can see that.” I sigh and take a step forward, and thankfully he reads me right, pulling me into a hug, letting my head rest on his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I told you not to apologize.”
“I know, but I am.”
“I get it.” He rubs my back, soothing me to my very core. Between his touch, his warmth, and his words, I feel my body lean into the safety he’s offering, so I wrap my arms around him, sinking into his hold and letting all the worries, all the anxiety just drip away.