Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I watch the ceiling fan spin in methodical circles.
Those words were a warning—to me, as they were to her. Verbalizing what I knew to be true, that if I slept with her, I was giving in to the feelings I’ve had for her since I saw her lying in that bush.
That I wanted her.
But I feared it would be more than that. Knowing what she felt like would shift the want to a need. Seeing her with that asshole at the bar set off a jealousy that I didn’t expect. Thinking of her with someone else now . . . I can’t.
“So . . .” she says, prompting a response.
“You didn’t ask me anything.”
I feel her smile against me. “All right. Let me rephrase.” She pauses. “Where do we go from here?”
Shit. I blow out a breath slowly.
“I’m not pressuring you,” she says. “When I left the house tonight, I wasn’t sure I was ready for more than a one-night stand. But you don’t want this to be that, and I don’t think I do either. But I also don’t think it’s that simple.”
“I don’t think it is either.”
“We live next door to each other. I’ve not even known you for a month. But here I am, in your bed, after a night that’s definitely on my list of best nights ever—”
“Hey,” I say, tightening my arms around her.
She laughs. “And I’m wondering what this looks like in the morning.”
I take a deep breath. “What do you want it to look like?”
“I don’t know.”
Her body tightens as the words pass her lips. She rises off me, moving her hair to one shoulder. She twists and faces me, my shirt she slipped on earlier for a kitchen run hanging off her shoulders.
I put my hand on her thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. Her next words are going to determine the course of our future—either together or separately. What I want may not be the right thing, or the best thing. I may also not have a choice.
She frowns. “Just a warning: this is going to go deep fast.”
The words are softened with a wink, which somehow dispels my fear.
“So,” she says, letting her shoulders fall. “Christopher and I didn’t end on bad terms. We were still friends, good friends, and had the wherewithal to realize we were better friends than lovers. That was three years ago. It took me a solid six months after our divorce to even consider dating again. But even once I found my footing and started seeing other men, I never, ever brought them home with me. The boys have never seen me with a man other than their father.”
Oh . . .
“So when Dylan walked in and found you in the kitchen, that was a new experience for him,” she says. “Not saying that it excuses his animosity. But maybe it explains it.”
I nod because it does, even though I didn’t need that explanation.
Dylan might be a jerk face to his mother, but his behavior in the kitchen was born out of a desire to protect her. It was based out of love. I respect that.
I nod again, giving her space to sort the thoughts I see swirling in her gorgeous eyes.
“This probably sounds ridiculous to you—”
“No,” I say earnestly, “it doesn’t. You’re a good mom. Of course they’re the first thing on your mind. They should be.”
“I’m saying all of this, and it sounds ridiculous to me because I barely know you, Jay. I would never bring up . . . our future at this point with someone else.” She grimaces. “I must sound like a loon.”
“You do not sound like a loon. You sound like an adult that wants to have a conversation about our situation, and that’s respectable.”
She sighs. “So you understand?”
“Yeah, I understand. I share your hesitations. And I think it would make a lot of sense to figure out where we stand before you go home and it’s awkward.”
She draws her knees up, covering them with my shirt. I wonder if it’s an unconscious demonstration of her protecting herself from me. I wish I could tell her not to. But I can’t.
Because I don’t know how to answer her questions.
“Can I be honest with you?” she asks.
“Please.”
Slowly, her arms release her knees, and they fall back to the bed. The shirt hangs freely again. I think her cheeks flush, but it’s hard to tell in the darkened room.
“I really like you, Jay. I like having you around, talking to you, and having sex with you.” She grins. “And it might be too fast, and I might be too forward—and I don’t know how to balance it all—but I don’t want to go back to the way we were earlier tonight. It would kill me to have this invisible fence between our yards that apparently only Carter can cross.”