53. She Took the Lead
She Took the Lead
Gwen
Night crept across the hotel room. It wasn’t pitch black. Hints of busy city lights and the glow from rooms in the building across the street filtered through the drapes.
Toby’s silhouette was rigid on the bed beside me.
The room was silent. Every so often, voices drifted past to disappear behind closed doors, but Toby didn’t say a word.
He’d been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for at least an hour.
No laughs. No jokes. Just… nothing . He was lost somewhere in troubled thoughts.
I inched my pillow closer, reaching for him, my hand only brushing his shoulder before falling to the cold sheets.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
My words weren’t convincing. Even I could hear the wobble of doubt in my voice. How many more battles could we fight? How much longer could we tread water when we were drowning in never-ending drama? All we ever seemed to do was dodge obstacle after obstacle.
And yet…
We were hanging in there, against all odds, and the constant threat of keeping too many secrets and never quite trusting that our feelings for each other were enough.
I braced myself on a crooked elbow and let my eyes wander over Toby’s face. He scowled, his mouth flat.
“Grumpy bear,” I teased him softly.
Tentatively, I smoothed my finger in the crease knitted between his brows. The line was stubborn, but he gusted out a breath, and some of the tension melted from his shoulders.
I bit back a smile. On the right track. I trailed a finger down his bristly cheek. His eyes fluttered closed, and his palm pressed over my hand, trapping the warmth of my skin against his. I smiled wider. My snuggly teddy bear was still in there.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Toby’s head turned on the pillow. His frown faded, but he didn’t break out with a grin like he usually did or whisper a quick “I love you more.” Haunted eyes stared back at me.
My heart was a sad thud in my chest. Was this how helpless Toby had felt when I’d shut him out after losing my job? Had he felt the same hollow ache when all his sweet words and efforts had only soaked into the miserable sponge I’d become?
I hated that I’d played a starring role in our downfall, and even hours ago, I’d still been forgetting my lines. Opening up was hard when almost every experience I’d had growing up was being abandoned. I needed to try harder to break out of old habits.
I dipped my head, my nose grazing his cheek before kissing him on the same bristly spot. “I really do love you,” I reassured him.
Toby’s lips parted with a soft sigh.
I smiled. He liked that. He gusted another breath when my hand petted the cotton T-shirt he’d thrown on before bed.
He liked those cautious touches even more.
It wasn’t surprising. I’d snuck a peek at the book on love languages Toby’s therapist had given him.
He’d highlighted a fluorescent yellow circle around the chapter titled Physical Touch and scribbled a note that said, “Me.” He was a touchy-feely kind of guy.
He’d always liked showing affection. Maybe some gentle encouragement would coax him out of his gloomy shell…
“You’re so handsome,” I told him, popping a kiss on the tip of his nose.
He blinked up at me, a bit like Noah did sometimes, listening, trying to figure me out. Did he need to hear some more sweet words?
“I never imagined you’d get any cuter than when we first met,” I said, tracing my fingers along the edge of his jaw. “And then you grew up and got all these nice angles.” I kissed his chin. “So handsome.”
Toby remained silent but tipped his head back, hinting he wanted another kiss. I teased him by pecking the corner of his mouth. He snorted a grunt of annoyance, so I pecked the other corner, too.
“And you’re a good father,” I whispered.
“The best. I appreciate all the ways you help out… All the ways you take care of the house… And…” I bit back a shy smile as I snuck my hand under his T-shirt.
There were so many nice bumps and ridges to discover.
“I appreciate how much you take care of your body…”
Toby sucked in a breath, his gaze narrowing on me, razor-sharp, but he lay still on the bed.
This wasn’t how things used to happen between us.
He led, and I buckled up for the ride. Things were different now.
My hand explored the hot skin hiding under his T-shirt, with him not reacting at all…
until my fingers followed the neat trail of hair from his belly button to slip under the waistband of his stripey pajama bottoms.
Toby’s hand shot up, threading possessively in my hair, gently tugging me forward. His mouth hovered a whisper away from mine, but he still wasn’t taking the lead. Not yet.
“Gwen, are you mine?” The doubt in his eyes—his voice—needled into a soft, vulnerable spot under my ribs.
“Always,” I said. “Even if I’m terrible at showing it sometimes.” His uncertainty echoed in my voice when I asked him, “And are you mine?”
“Since the day I saw you and every day since.” His smile was sad. “Even if I’m terrible at showing it sometimes.”
I smiled back. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other then.”
“Like a couple of soggy Weet-Bix left in the bowl.”
Oh, Tobes. There he was. “That’s pretty stuck.” I laughed.
He sighed, almost dreamy, his hand drawing me down until his mouth was impossibly close to mine. “Yeah.”
When our lips finally met, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a hundred apologies and a promise to keep trying. It was the moment when a year’s worth of chaos melted into nothing except the deep, bone-aching relief of knowing someone who understood your flaws but pulled you closer anyway.
We’d kissed a thousand times before, but not like that. And when I’d had one of those kisses, I couldn’t stop. I needed another… And another…
Toby was the first to pull away, breathless, watching me carefully— so carefully—as his hand slid up my bare thigh to the hem of my oversized shirt. “Can I?”
He wanted to take my shirt off. I wanted him to, but… Suddenly, it felt like I needed the courage of a gladiator facing a pack of hungry lions to get naked.
What if he’s disappointed…?
“Where’d you go?” Toby asked, arching up to capture my mouth in another kiss. “Stay here with me.” He nuzzled his nose into my cheek. “Talk to me… Tell me what’s happening in that big brain of yours.”
“What if…” My breath hitched from the fear of his rejection. “You don’t like me… now ?”
“Oh… Now?” As he dusted kisses down my neck, his fingers curled around my wrist, pulling my hand to touch the front of his pajama bottoms.
Oh.
That was not a small bulge straining against the cotton.
“Does that answer your question?” he murmured. “It should. I love every bit of you, Gwendolyn .” My name rumbled from his lips in a low, gravelly rasp, a spark shooting up my spine.
“What about my, um… pinky toe?”
I felt Toby’s smile against the crook of my neck. “Yeah, especially that crooked toe. Gorgeous.” He nipped a gentle bite. “Tell me another thing you like about me.”
I walked my fingers from the safety of his thigh to brush over the hard line of his cock through his pajamas. “You have pretty eyes.” My hand wrapped around the bulge, claiming him with a lingering squeeze. All mine…
He growled against my shoulder. “Gwen.” His palm clamped down just as possessively on my ass.
“Mmm?”
“Are you intent on corrupting my virtue, my lady?” His tone was teasing, but he almost whispered the words against my skin. He feared my rejection as much as I feared his. It had been so long since we’d done this. Too much of his confidence had been battered.
“Why, yes.” I bit back a smile. “But your warrior queen is a little, um…” The awkwardness hit hard—roleplay was not my thing.
I slipped a tentative hand past the waistband of his pants, and my fingertips skimmed the hot skin waiting underneath.
“I’m a little rusty when it comes to seducing handsome knights. ”
“Fear not.” He gasped in a breath when I gripped him hard. “You’re doing…” His head fell back against the pillows, and he moaned without any shame as my hand slid up and down his thick shaft.
I smiled at him sweetly. “Yes?”
“Fine,” he bit out. “You’re doing just fine.”
“Only fine?” I let go of him and slipped my hand free from the cotton. “Can I do better, Sir Knight?” I tugged at the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “Would my mouth do better at soothing the terrible ache in this, er…throbbing appendage?”
I was mortified by how ridiculous I felt, but Toby groaned. His big hand latched onto my wrist to stop me from shimmying any more of the striped cotton down his hips. “Gwen, you don’t have to.”
I bit my lip. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“No, this is fun. You’re brave and sexy. But you don’t have to do this.” His eyes darted to his groin. “Or that .”
Hurt knotted around my heart. I was doing it wrong. “I’m trying to make you feel good,” I said, disappointment lowering my voice to a whisper. Wasn’t that enough?
“And I like making you feel good.”
“Making you feel good makes me feel good.”
He gently combed his fingers through my hair and tucked the strands behind my ear. “Really?” His eyes were still uncertain.
Shy, I nodded. Didn’t he know that? We were so out of practice. Sex had always been effortless. Well, except for the first time, which had started clumsy and full of nervous laughs but ended with the two of us staring at each other with the biggest smiles on our faces. I wanted that ending again.
Cautiously, I reached out, my hand snagging the bottom of his shirt. “Why don’t we try removing this armor?” I pushed up the cotton but stalled.
I darted my tongue over my lips. So much bare skin was exposed now.
Toby ended up yanking his shirt over his head because I was too distracted, tracing slow, teasing paths down the rugged ridges of muscle and over the light patch of hair smattered on his pecs.
My pulse quickened. Just a little taste …