Chapter 7 #2
“Do you have any idea how sexy you are? How tempting?” he blurts out, his eyes running over me and his voice sounding deeper than before, and my stomach dips.
This isn’t the same guy I saved in the hotel lobby.
Between the allergy cocktail and my shameless advances, his inhibitions have obviously been lowered.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply, clasping my hands behind his neck. It’s too bad that cortisone cream has left his skin a little sticky, or I’d already have my mouth on him. But I don’t have to lament for long, because his hand cups the back of my head and pulls me in.
His kisses are slow and heated this time, a little less frantic than before, but no less intense. He groans when I shift my position in his lap and begin fumbling with his belt buckle. But he surprises me by pulling away.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t me. I don’t usually talk like this, or act like this, for that matter,” Rowan says, squeezing his eyes closed and shaking his head.
“It’s okay. I like this guy—a lot,” I reassure him with an overeager nod.
“I’ve never done this before, though,” he confesses, still breathing heavily.
“Neither have I.” He looks confused, so I continue. “I mean, I’ve been with the same man for most of my life, so I haven’t really had the opportunity to hook up with a stranger. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve kissed besides my ex in as long as I can remember.”
He continues staring at me as his hand moves up to cradle my cheek, and it’s surprisingly tender. “I’m afraid I might let you down.”
I frown. “Are you still worried about some of those other side effects?”
He cringes. “It feels like everything’s back in working order, but there’s no guarantee—”
“Rowan, it’s just sex,” I cut him off, softening my expression.
“It’s awkward and messy, even in the best of circumstances.
And while I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect of undressing in front of you, especially now that I’ve seen you without a shirt, I’m not expecting everything to be perfect. ”
That adorable smirk forms on his lips again. “For the record, I find that idea pretty thrilling … maybe even a little too exciting,” he admits as he squirms beneath me.
“Oh,” I say, finally understanding, and honestly somewhat flattered by his concern. “Would it help if we slowed things down and waited for your buzz to pass?”
“Yes, please,” he says, relief washing over his face.
“We have all night, right?” I reassure him with another kiss.
He holds me there for a minute before he breaks the kiss, his smile lingering. “As long as the vasoconstrictors don’t let me down, anyway.”
“How about a little more coffee, just in case?” I propose, and he chuckles softly when I actually get up to use the Keurig machine on the dresser.
“It’s not just my physical performance I’m worried about, though,” he adds after a while. “I know you said it’s just sex, but it’s still going to mean something to me.”
I shake my head, thinking back on the misguided pep talk I’d given myself in the bathroom. Because despite having only known him for a few hours, this already sounds like such a Rowan thing to say.
“Is this supposed to be your version of dirty talk?” I ask tauntingly as the last drizzle fills the cup.
He huffs and reaches up to scratch at his neck. “It’s probably as close as it gets. Even if I had the vocabulary for that kind of talk, I couldn’t bring myself to use it with you.”
“Why not?” I ask carefully, joining him on the bed and handing him the cup. “I’m not easily breakable.”
“You still deserve better. I may not know you that well, but I think you’re much more sensitive than you let on.”
My stomach tightens as I watch him take a sip. “What does that have to do with sex?”
“Claire,” he begins, setting the cup down beside us and taking my hand in his, “whatever it is that ends up happening between us, I only want it to make you feel good and adored … and desired. And I’d rather do that by telling you about how you already fill up every corner of my mind, that I can’t help how desperate I am to get closer to you, that I’ve never been with anyone more beautiful before you, and I doubt I ever will again. ”
I draw in a shaky breath, unsure whether it’s his touch or the earnest look in his eyes as he delivers those affirmations causing the warmth that blooms inside me.
Good gracious, this man is something altogether different.
I’m beginning to worry that a night with him might be riskier than I thought, because he’s nearly altered my brain chemistry, and we haven’t even gotten undressed yet.
“Who are you?” I ask after I find my voice.
He shrugs, looking shy again. “I’m a little old-fashioned, I know. Much too vanilla for a woman as sexy and confident as you.”
I scoff. “And you’re sure you’re not just some weirdo looking for the girlfriend experience? You don’t have any strange kinks or stalker tendencies, do you?”
“I do have this one fantasy about finding my soulmate in the most unlikely circumstances,” he reassures me, stifling a smile. “But it’s all relatively wholesome, I promise.”
“Fine,” I concede with a groan and a playful eye roll, secretly relieved by his witty reply now that the caffeine seems to have brought him back to life.
“We can be soulmates or whatever, but just for tonight.” I’m not sure whether I slip in that reminder of our expiration date for him or for myself, but I figure it can’t hurt.
His grin widens, and I watch his muscles flexing as he turns to adjust the bedding behind us.
Then he leans back, offering his shoulder as a pillow.
I sigh inwardly and snuggle in closer to him, half-expecting him to turn and kiss me again.
Instead, he leans down to press his lips to my forehead.
I guess he wasn’t kidding about wanting to take it slow.
I glance up at him as I slide my palm over his chest, and he lets out a pained exhale as he stares down at me. “Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for coming off the way I did just now. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, for the record. I’m just not used to this,” I say softly. “But it’s nice being adored.”
“Thanks, I guess,” he replies with a laugh, but it seems forced.
“You’re different, but in all the best ways,” I add.
His chest expands, and I tilt my head to look up at him when he opens his mouth.
But he stops and seemingly thinks better of it, probably because he’s afraid I’m still judging him for being so honest and emotionally vulnerable.
Guilt settles in my stomach as he smiles down at me and finally speaks again.
“And you really are more sensitive than you let on, aren’t you?”