Chapter 8 #3
"Your ass, or your ass in yoga pants?" I ask. "Just clarifying…for a friend."
"You refer to yourself, I believe?" she says.
"Yeah, babe."
"I was jesting," she says, arching an eyebrow and smiling at me. "I left the statement intentionally vague."
"Are you teasin' me, Cadence Creswell?" I demand, sidling closer to her, smoothing my hands down over her hips.
"That was the intent, yes," she murmurs. "The truth of the matter, however, is that you will never see me in a pair of yoga pants. I do not own any, and will not."
I hear myself speaking and can't stop the wildly inappropriate question from tumbling out. "And what are my chances of seeing you out of yoga pants?" She squeaks, a soft, shrill exhale, and buries her face in my chest, and I laugh, stroking the back of her head. "Joking, honey, joking. Mostly."
"Riley, I…"
I groan, head tipped back, and look down at her and lift her chin up so I've got her attention.
"Cadence, I'm sorry. I'm not…I'm not trying to…
.shit, what am I even trying to say? Fuck!
" I drop my forehead to hers. "I'm a dirty-minded old hound dog, okay?
I say inappropriate shit, like all the time.
I'm not trying to…like…push you into anything you're not ready for or don't want. I'd never pressure you into anything."
"But your inference—that you wish to see me naked…" she drops her voice to a whisper, and if I were looking, I’d see her cheeks flame-red again. "That was at least partially truthful, was it not?”
"How honest am I supposed to be, here, Cadence?” I ask.
"Completely."
"It'll make you uncomfortable."
She sighs, nodding. "I am aware. But…one must face things head-on.
Often, with me, I fear things prematurely.
I am afraid of the idea of something more than the reality warrants.
I am afraid of and uncomfortable with…well, to be as honest with you as I wish you to be with me—I am afraid of and uncomfortable with everything to do with you, Riley.
You are completely outside my experience, and thus well beyond the bounds of my comfort zone.
Which, admittedly, is somewhat microscopic.
" She holds my eyes for a moment, fingertips trailing over my cheekbone, following the line of my stubble to the corner of my mouth.
"You frighten me. You do things and say things that I…
that have never been directed at me. I have never been the object of anyone's desire before, Riley.
And you…your seemingly genuine displays of attraction to and desire for me…
it is hard for me to reconcile that with my understanding of the way of things.
Of who I am in relation to the world. It is confusing.
Scary. Not because you are scary, but because I am so unfamiliar with the aspect of life which your interest represents. "
"I can understand what you mean," I say. "I don't want you to be afraid of me. Of—of what I'd do. I won't do anything you don't want."
"That is just the issue, Riley—I am finding that I do want…
" she closes her eyes and tries again. "I want to experience things, Riley.
It is thrilling beyond explanation when you kiss me.
When you…ahhhh, when you put your hands on my body in places no one has ever touched me before.
I am often shocked or scandalized by the wicked things you say, but…
I also like it. It makes me feel…." she trails off, frowning. “I am uncertain how to phrase it."
"Bluntly."
"Very well." She looks up at me. "Adult. I have lived in the adult world my whole life. I am an only child. Beyond the age of two or so, I was never interested in dolls or toys or children’s books.
I have always been more concerned with knowledge.
With learning. With adult things. I related more to adults than to my peers.
I conversed more freely with my teacher, in the years I attended public schools, than with my schoolmates.
I attended a university hundreds of miles from my parents, alone, at sixteen—I was legally emancipated so I could make decisions for myself.
I attended classes and lectures with students five and ten years my senior.
But yet, even after graduation, even as an intern and resident, I never felt fully adult.
Because of my social na?veté, especially as regards romance and…
and the things that go with it." She looks at me again, intently yet briefly.
"To return to your inference regarding seeing me unclothed… "
My gut flips, and my heart hammers. "Cadence, I…"
"I will not be offended, no matter what you may say.
I will not be angry. Or disgusted. I will not think less of you.
I may not always be able to understand what you are thinking or what the truth is beneath the obvious of what you say, but I can tell when you are lying or omitting the truth.
And to me, dishonesty, whether through lies or omission, is…
far more offensive than a blunt, bold, inappropriate, or vulgar truth. "
"In that case," I say, brushing my fingers over her temples and behind her ears. "If I wasn’t scared to fuckin' death of rushing you into something or pressuring you to do something you're not really ready for, I'd have you naked right now."
She whines in her throat, averting her gaze and blushing furiously. "Riley, my goodness."
"I'd kiss you until you can't breathe, Cadence. I'd show you all the amazing things your body is capable of feeling."
Her fingers knot in my shirt until she's fisting the front of it with shaky hands. "You tempt me, Riley." She glances at me, curiosity on her face. "The things you would show me…are they all as delightful and intoxicating and…and addictive as kissing?"
"Addictive?" I echo.
She looks at my mouth, unblinking, eyes wide.
"Yes. Since that first kiss, I find myself quite unable to think of nearly anything else.
" She bites her lower lip, hard. "I confess to being in a similar state as regards the placement of your hands.
I was shocked at first when you touched my bottom, but now, I…
" red cheeks go redder, and she squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip again.
"I have not stopped thinking of it. Most especially, I cannot stop thinking about how it felt when you paired the two together. "
I claim her mouth, part her lips with my tongue and taste her, feel her tongue slide hesitantly against mine, and then I let my hands ghost down her back…and fill my hands with her ass.
Fuck—so tight, so plump, so round. My god, I need this woman naked.
I need her screaming my name.
FUCK.
Of all the women in the world for me to develop feelings like this for, it has to be her? The sweetest, most adorable, most innocent, lily-white, pure-as-the-driven-snow virgin on the entire planet.
She whimpers at my touch, arching into me, pressing her tits against me—and yeah, those babies are definitely gonna be as glorious as this ass. I'm not about to push my luck, though. I genuinely care about her. I genuinely do not want to scare her or pressure her or traumatize her.
Her hands flatten over my shoulders, and she lifts up on her toes, deepening the kiss, opening her mouth wide for me.
My god, she's incredible. The way she melts into me, pressing every soft curve against my body as if she craves me…
although I highly doubt she knows what it is she really wants, what she's asking for when she melts against me like that.
Her hands slide around my neck, and she's pressed against me completely—hips to hips, thighs to thighs, belly to belly, tits squashed between us. She has to feel my hard-on—there's no way she can't.
She pulls back enough to whisper. "When you kiss me like that, I forget to be nervous or afraid. My mind slows down in way I have never experienced except when I am attending a patient or performing surgery."
"Is that a good thing?" I ask.
"YES!" Her exclamation is unexpectedly intense, exuberant, loud. "It is a relief I cannot express. My mind is an internet browser with ten thousand windows open at once, each of them processing gigabytes of data at all times."
"No wonder you get overwhelmed," I say. "That much mental noise and activity all the time?"
"Precisely," she breathes. “Even asleep, I feel it. My dreams are that way, too, quite often. The only respite I get is when I enter the focused state of work…and now, most unexpectedly, with you….when you do…physical things…to me."
I squeeze her ass, cup the weight of each taut, plump, round cheek, relishing the privilege of this to a degree I can honestly say I’ve never experienced.
When I do, she exhales raggedly, burying her face in my chest. "Riley…"
"Fuck, honey."
"What?" she breathes, looking up at me.
“I’m greedy," I answer in a gruff murmur. "I want more."
"More?" she squeaks, her shrill whisper breaking. "Oh my. More how?"
"Should I show or tell?"
"Tell," she whispers. "And then show. If I know what to anticipate, I can more easily adapt to what is happening."
"In that case," I growl, gathering the material of her skirt in my fists, handful after handful, so the hem drifts inexorably upward; I feel her tensing with each upward inch of the hem. "I'm gonna lift your skirt up and put my hands on your ass over your underwear."
"Over?" she gulps.
"Yeah. Unless you give me permission to go under them."
"Maybe…" panting, she pauses. "Maybe start with over."
"You want me to stop, just say the word."
"Stop." It's a breath, a whispered syllable.
I immediately release the bunched fabric and move my hands to her waist. "See? You're in control, sweetheart. If it helps, I can tell you what I'm doing before I do it."
"That would help." She gazes up at me, eyes wide and shimmering with concern. "But I…I do not want to disappoint you, Riley."
This gets a bark of disbelieving laughter out of me. "Disappoint me? How on earth would you do that?"
"By asking you to stop."
"God, you sweet, sweet thing. You couldn't. You couldn't possibly disappoint me."
"But…what if you are enjoying something and I become uncomfortable and need to stop? Would you not be…at least a little disappointed? Or…perhaps frustrated is the better word."
I cup her face and look at her intently, shaking my head without breaking eye contact—until her eyes dance inevitably away.
"No. Never." I kiss her, a soft but brief touch of lips.
"Listen to me, okay? This? Getting to be with you like this?
To kiss you? To touch you at all? In any way at all?
It's a gift you're giving me, honey. I mean that.
It's a privilege. An honor. I'm not gonna take it for granted, and I'll sure as fuck try not to push you to go further.
And if you need to stop, that's what happens.
No questions asked. No explanations needed.
And I swear to you, sweetheart, I will not be upset. "
My cock might disagree, but that greedy motherfucker can be insatiable, and with this girl, at least, I know I need to keep him on a tight leash. I'm gonna have to learn to tell that bastard to shut up and wait.
"I was only testing you, just now," she murmurs.
"I know."
She rests her chin on my chest, soft, small hands loosely cupping the sides of my neck, and gazes up at me, searching my face in that way she has—open, honest, curious, nervous, eager, excited, anxious, tender, strong.
She's the most complex human I have ever known. A guy could spend a lifetime getting to know her depths and never even scratch the damn surface. I've known her for less than twenty-four hours, and one simple fact is starting to scare me shitless:
I might be addicted to her.
She's waiting, I realize.
Waiting for me to resume what I was doing before she asked me to stop.
Far be it from me to keep her waiting.