“Oh.” Her eyes grew wide, as though this was news to her. “Wait, what? You couldn’t help yourself? I thought it was practice.”
“No, Jenn. That’s wasn’t practice. That was me wanting you.”
Her eyes grew a little hazy and a small smile arrested her features, but then almost immediately she blinked, as though clearing her head, and said, “Well, it was different the first time. Why was it different?”
She studied me with eyes now shaded a deep, rich purple. Almost indigo. But I hardly noticed the color because I was too preoccupied being captivated by the woman. A stirring in my chest, a sudden longing had me tightening the leash on my restraint.
She was so beautiful, my Jennifer. And not because of her eyes, or face, or any other outward attributes. The person she was held me transfixed. How could I have disregarded her? How could I have looked at her with anything but wonder and respect and desire?
“It wouldn’t be prudent for our continued longevity to do anything you’re not ready for.” I had to swallow, my voice again rough and unsteady.
Her frown deepened, her body growing stiff. “You’re holding yourself back because you’re worried about my lack of experience.”
Jennifer drew an inch away and I stopped her, bringing her body back to mine. “No. Not precisely that. You’ve been through an ordeal this evening, and I’ve just made a confession I’m not sure you were ready to hear.”
“So . . . what?” Her tone held a hint of irritation and desperation. “You tell me you love me and want to, what? Shake hands?”
“No. I don’t want to shake hands.” I didn’t catch my grin in time—her prosaic suggestion struck me as both funny and depressing. I captured her cheeks in my palms and pressed a slow, savoring kiss to her mouth, leaning away to whisper, “Like I said, serious touching.”
“It doesn’t feel serious. It feels safe.”
I lifted an eyebrow at this. “Don’t you want safe?”
She shook her head, more desperation bleeding into her voice. “No. I don’t.”
I scrutinized her, clenching my jaw, burying the rising passion. Crushing it. “Jenn, I won’t lose you to regret.”
Her soft exhale fluttered over my lips and chin. She regarded me silently, still frowning, her eyes darting between mine. She seemed agitated.
So I added, “You tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen. But think carefully before you do.”
She licked her lips. “Anything? You’ll do anything I want?” Something sharpened behind her eyes, an idea or a thought, and her jaw and neck relaxed beneath my fingers.
I held very still, because the question sounded like a precursor to a trap; I tried to pull her intentions from her mind but encountered a brick wall. I dropped my hands from her face and slid them to her shoulders.
“I’ll do anything within reason.”
“Fine.” She nodded once, crossing her arms and gaining a full step backward. “Take your clothes off.”
I blinked at her. I blinked at her request. It was not what I’d been expecting.
“Pardon me?”
“Take off your clothes.”
My hands went to my waist, a spike of apprehension passing through me. “I don’t have a shirt on.”
She lifted her chin and ordered, “Take off your pants.”
I stared at her, fighting a rising tide of horniness induced trepidation. “Jenn—”
“You can keep your underwear on. Or your boxers. Whichever. I just . . . ” she gathered a deep breath, as though gathering courage through the air, “I want to see you. I know you’re right, that I’m wrecked and muddled from the day’s events, but I also know, no matter what happens tomorrow, I’ll never regret spending the rest of this evening discovering and touching your body.”
She ended by biting her bottom lip, her eyes wide with confessing her secret want.
I stared at her, uncertain what to do.
This is a bad idea.
I was breathing heavier, my heart beat like a drum, the reverberations from each constriction shaking my chest and throbbing in my dick.
This is a bad idea.
“Please,” she asked softly, shuffling forward and placing her hands on my stomach. I flinched at the contact. “Please let me just . . .”
She didn’t finish the thought. Instead her hands slid down my body while she held my stare captivated, her fingers gripped the button of my jeans. She unfastened it, unzipped the fly, pushed her fingertips into the waistband, and pushed them down my hips.
Her fingers lifted and curled around mine. She took a step back, still holding me with her gaze and grasping my hand, as though guiding me, she motioned to the bed. “Lie down.”
I released a rough breath, resisting her pull. “This is a bad idea.”