I think of our public kiss at the stadium and then our private one in the rain, wrapped in a wet bed sheet. I eye the brick wall where he gently pressed me earlier, making me lose time.
I remember watching Pat braid Jo’s hair, coming home to see what new thing he fixed in the house. The way his eyes met mine first thing after the team won the game, just before a cooler of icy Gatorade was dumped over his head. I think of his bare chest, fresh and dripping from the shower, and the way he pulled me into his chest on the porch swing. Meeting his eyes over Jo’s head just now, snuggled in her bed.
Pat and I have made a montage of memories in such a short time, and I want more.
More, more, MORE.
Desire floods through me. Now that the idea is there, I’m electrified, almost desperate for the need to have Pat completely, in all the ways I can.
Our eyes meet and lock.
“Maybe I’m in the mood for a little risk,” I whisper.
But for some reason, this remark doesn’t land where intended. Instead of throwing me over his shoulder and sprinting to the bedroom—which would be a totally Pat move—he clears his throat and shifts awkwardly. Not meeting my eyes.
My stomach drops, desire instantly shriveling up in the face of humiliation. So much for being risky. Never mind about that whole adulting thing!
“Could we just, um, forget I said anything?” I cover my face with my hands. “Please?”
Pat sighs. “Lindy, it’s not that I don’t want to—don’t want you.”
“You don’t need to explain.”
I wave my hands awkwardly, like one of the people who directs planes on the landing strip. Only I want to direct traffic far, far away from me. I’d like to shut down my airspace altogether. Nothing is landing at my airport tonight! All flights are grounded. Maybe forever.
In a few quick strides, Pat comes to me and wraps his arms around my back. I struggle to get free for about three seconds before I realize I don’t want to resist him. Also, he’s way too strong. It’s a dumb battle to even attempt.
I shouldn’t want to be held by him, not now that I’m good and humiliated. After suffering the most embarrassing rejection of my life BY HIM. But I can’t resist the comfort of his solid body. Sagging against his chest, I let my arms snake around his waist and keep my red face buried in his shirt.
“I need to explain,” Pat says, his breath ruffling my hair. “There is nothing I want more than you, Lindy. But I don’t just want you in my bed. I want your heart. I want everything. Every. Single. Thing.” He clears his throat again. “But right now, there’s a lot on the line. This has been a big week. Tomorrow is a big day. My emotions are all over the map, and I suspect yours are too.”
He is so right—I know he is. I try to swallow down the feeling of rejection. It’s hard to shake, even with Pat’s sensible words.
He cups my cheeks, slowly tilting my face to his. “Look at me, Lindybird.”
I do, though it takes effort to meet his eyes. But the love there, the kindness, the concern—it’s so clear, so rich and full, that for a moment, I feel as though my heart stops, held perfectly still in Pat’s capable hands.
His lips find mine, the kiss sweet and soft, easing the sting.
“I have a counter-offer,” Pat says, his mouth moving against mine as he speaks.
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll take you to bed, to our bed, but only to sleep. For now. Believe me, I really, really want more.”
He kisses me again, lingering in a way that gets my body even more electrified. His lips find my ear, and I shiver as his voice drops to a husky whisper.
“But when we’re together for the first time, I don’t want there to be any questions. I don’t want it to be in the middle of emotional overwhelm. I want both of us to be sure. I want it to be a celebration, not an escape. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nod, words temporarily lost to my feelings. Warmth curls like a ribbon in my chest at his words.
Without warning, Pat sweeps me up in his arms, bridal style. I squeal, and he chuckles, the rumble of his laughter moving through me. He moves with purposeful strides to the bedroom and kicks the door closed behind us.
It is a really, really hot move, and now I’m wishing we could forget everything we just agreed to. Emotional overwhelm—what emotional overwhelm? I don’t see any of that here.
Pat sets me down and I straighten my top, feeling suddenly shy. I’m still wearing Val’s ill-fitting clothes, baggy jeans a little too short for me and a T-shirt. “I don’t have anything to sleep in.”
I took Jo to Walmart after I picked her up from school to grab some clothes and toiletries. It seems obvious that I should have gotten some things for myself, but my mind has been a hazy mess all day long.
Pat grins, as close to full-wattage as I’ve seen since I brought Jo home. “Check the built-in dresser in the closet.”
I make my way to the walk-in closet, and to a row of built-in drawers I hadn’t paid much attention to when Pat first showed me the loft. I find an array of pajamas in one of the drawers. Pat has bought me everything from flannel to soft cotton to—
I hold up a lacy black negligee, one eyebrow raised. Pat only shrugs, his cheeks flushing an adorable pink.
“I figured I’d cover all the bases,” he says.
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, all the bases. First base, second base, third base …”
“Touchdown?” He gives me an adorably boyish grin.
“I think you’re mixing your metaphors, Mr. Graham.” I tuck the negligee back into the drawer, wishing it were that easy to set aside my desire. “Another night?”
His voice is low and husky, but he keeps his distance. “I certainly hope so.”
Though the giant tub is calling my name, I’m too exhausted even for a bath. I choose one of the pajama sets in a deep blue in a soft material with long pants and a short-sleeved top. Even though it’s almost as full coverage as I can get, Pat’s eyes darken as I join him in the bedroom. He’s already in bed, propped up against the pillows and—surprise, surprise—shirtless.