Chapter 23
23
“ I t's three a.m.” Simon replied, not quite answering her question.
He didn’t even know what she was asking about. In the dark, she held something small and square between her fingers. The smallest amount of light glinted off it.
“It's a condom,” he told her. So she’d found one.
“In the couch? Between the cushions?” she asked, her tone making it clear that this was not normal. It wasn’t.
He was not awake enough for this. “I guess.” When she didn’t respond and he didn’t know what else to say, he held out his hand and added, “Come back to bed.”
Carlisle didn't move. Just sat there looking like maybe she was only wearing the shirt, her long lean legs were tucked up underneath her, a frown still on her face.
“I don’t understand what you want.” He was both afraid of the answer and desperately needing to know it.
She shook her head as if it were nothing, but she looked like she didn’t know what to do with the condom she held.
Simon couldn't help it. “Something's bothering you. But I wore a condom when we had sex. I thought that was the right thing to do.”
“It's not that,” she protested softly. “It's that there was one in the hall drawer and another in the couch and one ready by the bed. It just seems like you're ready to have sex anywhere . . .”
Her words trailed off. He didn't like standing over her, so he didn't cross the room. He stayed where he was, watching her in the darkness as the light filtered in from the streetlights outside through the cheap blinds that had come with the house. He liked the way the slashes of light cut across her sharp cheekbones. They highlighted her full lips, and he wished her expression was happier.
She spoke again. “In the bathroom, there's like a forty-eight pack. You've lived here for what? A month?”
He watched as she slid her other hand down between the cushions as if she were checking for something. She found the prize and pulled out yet another condom. “What the fuck?”
He felt his eyes fall closed. He was going to have to explain. How many hours ago had he made an ass out of himself over one thing and now he was going to do it again over something completely different. He tried.
“The box showed up as a doorstep delivery right after I moved in. Turned out it was from one of my friends at my old job—it was a housewarming present.”
“And you've gone through half of them already?”
He could hear the skepticism in her voice. Rightly so. He laughed.
“No. How many were in the box?”
“Forty-eight.” She answered quickly, too quickly. It was bothering her more than she was trying to let on.
Still, he couldn't help but chuckle. “Then forty-six of them are still in the house. No, wait, all forty-eight are still in the house. Two of them are used.” He raised one eyebrow at her hoping to remind her how good using them had been .
Jesus, he hoped it had been as good for her as he’d found it. What if he was wrong?
She frowned again, though this was more like she was processing than that she was upset. Hopefully an improvement.
Crossing the room, he sat down beside her, liking the heat of her skin against his. Her bare thigh grazed his knee and something in him let go a little. As if maybe by touching her he could get her to see that there was nothing nefarious, just maybe a little more than she’d signed up for.
“It's stupid,” he confessed, hoping that would preface so that she could forgive him again.
“What's stupid?”
“I was home alone and bored and I read this magazine article, and it was about women creating vision boards.”
“Excuse me?” Her incredulity was valid. It sounded very stupid now that he thought about it. She tilted the condom still in her fingers as if to point it out. “This is a vision board?”
“Kind of.” He shrugged. At least she hadn’t pulled away. “The article made a point about how men could do this too if not the same way. If you want something to happen, you have to pave the way to make it happen. So there's a condom hidden . . .” he paused. Well, he was going to have to confess it, or she was going to leave. “Everywhere that I had a fantasy.”
He realized what that sounded like. He was going to have to add the last part. It was maybe the most embarrassing or revealing, and what happened next would all depend on how she reacted. “About you.”
“And the condom?” she asked.
“Yeah.” It was a good thing it was dark. His face had to be fire engine red. They were still supposed to go on a date later and he wasn't sure how many ways he could fuck it up before seven o’clock. He did not want to fuck it up. He hadn't wanted to fuck it up before they'd had sex and now that he'd been with her, even less .
“Seriously?” she asked, but her tone was soft. Not upset but maybe disbelieving.
His confession was one word, but if he had to confess or clarify over and over again to keep her here, he would. “Yes.”
“Where are the rest?”
Oh hell. It was enough that he admitted he’d had fantasies about having sex with her at every place she’d already found one of the stashed condoms. Did she really want him to tell all of them? He fought it and tried to be funny. “Maybe you could find them.”
Her lips, pursed in thought and weighing her options, slowly quirked up on one side. Her mouth drew wide into a grin as she laughed. “Compromise. Show me two.”
Fine . He reached to the other end of the couch, remembering the time he imagined bending her over the end of it and taking her from behind. In his fantasy, she’d been begging him for more. He fished in the cushions then handed her the condom.
“Three in the new couch?”
He shrugged. She’d helped him pick it out. It made him think of her. He didn’t say that though, didn’t say how dirty his thoughts had been these last few weeks.
She eyed the end of the couch now, as if she could almost see what he had been thinking. He stood up, in for a penny in for a pound, right? Tugging on her hand until she came to her cute little bare feet, he headed toward the dining area, pulling her along.
She’d asked.
He took her to the other end of the table. Folding chairs sat around it. He wanted real furniture, wanted to show her more. But he didn’t have more. He had medical bills and a family to support, and he wouldn’t change that.
The table wasn’t even a real table. Though it was solid, the legs folded out from under it. It was scuffed and old. At least it was sturdy, he thought. Taking her hand, he guided it up under the side so she could feel where he had taped one. Her eyes went wide.
“Well, you asked,” he reminded her then looked away. This was getting a little too personal. But it was three in the morning, and she was about to leave again if he didn't say something.
Her voice was soft. He almost wasn’t sure if he’d heard it. “All of them were about me?”
“Every last one,” he admitted. But he couldn’t stand the tension and he tried for funny. “Want to help me get through the rest of the box?”
She didn't answer. Damn .
Instead, she asked, “Are we still going out tomorrow night?”
“Tonight?” he corrected, his brain not fully functioning. As soon as it was out of his mouth, he realized it was a pointless, dick move.
But she didn’t seem mad, she just pressed again, “Yes. Are we still going out tonight ?”