Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
This is the strangest, most wonderful day of my life. Okay, maybe that’s a little over the top, but my smile refuses to be held inside.
Ahhh… Yes. Blissful brain. Languid body.It’s a shame this sensation can’t last forever.
Only I wasn’t expecting it to evaporate at the rate it does. In an instant the mood in the truck shifts. In the space of a heartbeat everything changes.
Walt’s body language is tense. He won’t meet my gaze as he leans back, withdrawing his body from mine.
It seems like we are suddenly walking on eggshells. Every move. Every glance is charged.
After wrapping the condom in a paper napkin from the glovebox, he pushes his still semi-erect cock back into his briefs and straightens his shorts.
I shiver and I doubt it’s because of the air conditioning. A weird panic is growing to a hum in my veins.
With shaking fingers, I begin to straighten my clothing, but he stops me with a gentle hand on my bare thigh. His thumb brushes lightly over my skin.“You good?”
No. I’m worried. “Yes.”
As if he saw right through that, his brows draw tight, the dark gray of his eyes turning flinty as he looks at the fingerprints he left on my leg. “You weren’t saying a lot.”
I sure was moaning.
“Couldn’t talk. I think you knew what I needed without me saying a word. Now, I’m just a bit dazed.”
“Let me help you.”
Wearing a closed expression, he uses his large, calloused hands to carefully put my dress back in place, lifting the strap over my shoulder like it’s made of glass. Pulling the skirt down carefully, as he smooths his fingers against my thigh.
I search for words as the cold from the air conditioner blows across my skin.
When the silence stretches, he leans back in his seat. Dropping his head back. Closing his eyes.
This gives me a chance to look at his strong profile.
Walt is a powerful man. He’s big and built like a machine. Approaching six and a half feet with broad shoulders, cut biceps, and powerful legs. His body has scars. Tattoos. Years of work and wear.
His skin tells a story that’s infinitely more interesting than mine and leaves me with thousands of questions.
I can’t believe we just had sex.
In his truck, on the side of the road, no less.
Not that I’m a virgin, but I don’t know this man from Adam.
I press my knees together as the burn of embarrassment starts to flame in my chest.
I guess I did wait too long to have sex. I lost all control.
As the truck idles, I suddenly wish we were somewhere I could pace around, but it will surely seem weird if I leap out of the truck.
Talk about weird after-sex behavior.
I groan to myself and laugh. It sounds as awkward as it feels. “This is kind of strange. I don’t know what to think about right now.”
His head slowly cants my way as he opens his eyes. “Give me your hand.”
Nervous, I slowly extend mine. When he lifts it and presses a kiss to the back of my knuckles, my heart flinches.
Gulp.
A kiss.
Even though my heart tightens, the band around my chest loosens. I take a few breaths, and with each one I feel a little better.
I say, “I’m sorry, this is all new for me. I don’t do this kind of thing.”
He rubs his thumb over my hand. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
There’s a sincerity to his tone that makes me feel a lot better.
He’s a good guy.
A protector. A man who cares about my safety.
Trying to lighten the mood, I smile. “Look at us, all serious. We just had great sex.”
He just gazes at me.
My cheeks heat more. And I ramble more. “I know we just met, but some people wouldn’t consider it that big of a deal. People have sex all the time. For all kinds of reasons. I don’t know what’s going to happen down the road, but right now, nothing is wrong.”
Walt’s gaze becomes a stare stare. Unblinking.
I reach for his face. “I’m fine. I hope you don’t feel like you’ve done something wrong.”
As he feeds his fingers between mine he tightens his grip. Holding our clasped hands against his chest.
Swallowing, he looks out the window for a beat.
In the space of time he looks across the green fields beyond the truck, I imagine all kinds of crazy things.
But I do not expect the storm in his eyes when he turns to me. Or the words that grate out of him.
“I’m not who you think I am.”