“No. The magic is you and me together, and we could have that anywhere.”
“You’re right, sorry. I’m being grumpy about everything I have to get done today. Come back.”
He tugged me back down, and I nestled against him again. “Why don’t you let me help you out today?” I asked. “I’d be happy to do something for you.”
“You sound like my mom.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew. That is not romantic.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that you remind me of her, just that she’s always wanting to do things for me. She thinks I’m incompetent or something.”
I sat up again. “It’s not the same, Levi. I don’t want to do things for you—and maybe she doesn’t either—because I think you’re incapable of doing them yourself. I’m trying to help you. Accepting help from someone who cares about you doesn’t mean you couldn’t do it all yourself; it means that you’re willing to let someone share the burden who wants to.”
“I don’t want to burden you with anything, Jillian. It’s bad enough that I can only see you once a week. I’m not going to ask you to do my fucking laundry.”
I stared at him. “I don’t understand. Are you never going to let me into your regular, everyday life because you think I won’t find it romantic? I’m thirty-one years old, Levi. I get that life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Relationships aren’t always whiskey and sex. There are good times and bad. Beautiful things and ugly things. Rib eye steaks and fast food hamburgers. It’s not either, or. I don’t expect you to be perfect all the time.”
“Shhhh, hey, come here. Don’t get upset.” His tone contrite, he reached for me again, pulled me down. “I know what you’re saying. I promise I do. I just…” He squeezed my arm. “I just want this for a little longer, OK? I want it to be only us, whiskey and sex. Beautiful things. We said we’d take it slow, right?”
Immediately I felt bad for pushing. “I’m sorry.” I threw my leg over him again. “I know we said we should go slow. I just love you and want to be close.”
“Me too.” His voice went husky, his hand covered one breast, and his cock stirred beneath my inner thigh. “What do you think about getting close in the shower before we get dressed?”
I slipped a hand between his legs. “I’m all for it.”
? ? ?
“God, I couldn’t even look Bob in the eye at checkout,” I said as we drove back to Traverse City. “And Jenny’s face was so red!”
“I know.” Levi laughed as he switched to the left lane. “We gave them a night to remember, that’s for sure.”
I groaned, slapping my hands over my hot cheeks. “I think you were right. Hotels from now on.”
“Definitely.” Levi patted my leg and then left his hand there, steering with the other.
I looked out the window as the scenery rolled by, happy we’d had such a great night together, and grateful for all the birthday surprises, but something nipped at the edges of my contentment. I felt closer to him than ever before, and yet I still felt this reluctance on his part to really let me in. Even though I know we said we’d go slow, it was hard not to feel a little hurt that he didn’t want me to meet his family yet. Especially his son. I understood the need to be cautious, but from what he’d said this morning, it seemed like he wanted to keep me separate from his home life for the foreseeable future, while we enjoyed the beautiful things. But for how long?
And I was glad that he’d smoothed things over with his mom and that Scotty had been fine last night, but that would make it even easier for him to lead two lives—one where he was with me, and one where he was Dad.
I wanted to know both sides of him.
Why wouldn’t he let me?
? ? ?
In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I became Levi’s Girl Friday again, and we’d have our one incredible night together—twice he was able to stay over—and I’d go Saturday through Thursday missing him and wishing he was ready to take the next step. My feelings for him grew stronger, and he told me he loved me every single day. I believed him, but I also grew increasingly nervous that while our feelings continued to grow, our level of commitment had somehow stagnated. It was always us alone, and once we’d met up with Skylar and Sebastian for dinner, but he’d yet to introduce me to his son, and when I invited him to Sunday dinner at my parents’ house, he always had a reason why it wouldn’t work. More than once, I’d offered to come to his house on a Friday night, but he never wanted me to, and his reason was usually sexual.
“I know, it’s totally selfish of me,” he’d said tonight in my bed. “But I can’t bear the thought of having to go another week without being this close to you. Without getting my mouth on you. Without making you come.” Then he’d moved down my body and buried his face between my legs, making it impossible to argue with him.