“Perfect timing.” Dred served up two large platefuls of eggs and bacon. It was midmorning and they ate breakfast ravenously. Pixie drank her body weight in coffee, and the low-grade hangover she had from all the alcohol they’d consumed the night before dissipated.
“Okay, here’s what I thought we could do today.” Dred ran through the list, but she wasn’t really paying attention.
Sure, she was watching his mouth, the full bottom lip, wondering if she had the courage to lean over and suck it into her mouth.
Maybe if she simply talked to him, tripped her way through her hang-ups, he’d understand. Trent had all kinds of issues with Harper when they first got together. But this was different. Would he even believe her? There were times, given everything that had happened to her, that even she couldn’t believe it was true. She’d killed the man who’d tried to take the only thing that was truly hers.
“So which of those do you want to do?” he asked her.
“What?”
“Where were you, Pix?”
“I’m sorry, I just . . .”
Dred took hold of her hand. “Say it, Snowflake.”
“No, honestly, please. What were the options again?”
Dred kissed the back of her hand, then turned it over, and kissed her palm. “The options were tell me the truth or we can sit here all day.” He sighed as he let go of her hand and placed it back on her lap. “I want you to share things with me, Snowflake. Big things, funny things, inconsequential things, sad things. Everything.”
Her stomach tightened and she took a deep breath. Was he ready?
His hands gripped her knees and squeezed them. “Trust me.”
“I haven’t . . . before . . . you know . . . with a man . . .”
*
Pure like a snowflake.
He knew it was primal and not at all modern or sensitive, but fuck. She’d handed him the greatest gift in the universe. No one had touched her in the way he wanted to. He’d get to be her first. And yet embarrassment tinted her cheeks like it was a bad thing. Trent’s warning about going slow suddenly made sense. Had she told him? “Does anyone else know?” he asked.
“No,” she pulled away from him. “Of course not. You think it’s something I advertise?” She stood and took her plate to the sink.
Shit. He was handling this all wrong. Finally he had something that was his alone. Something he’d never be forced to share with others. Something nobody could take away from him. Something the beautiful woman in front of him was willing to share with him.
She came to grab his plate, and he reached for her hand. “For a lyricist, I have a unique knack for being completely crap at saying the right thing.”
Pixie faced him, and for a moment, he could see the words she wasn’t saying. Trent and Cujo’s protectiveness, her reluctance, her embarrassment. The reason she hadn’t slept with anyone wasn’t a choice. It was a fear. Borne of the kind of misery she’d suffered. She was like him, and while his heart hurt for her, it meant she understood him. And he understood her.
“Tell me again, Snowflake.” He pulled her toward him so they were eye level.
Gently, Pixie shook her head. He placed her hand on his chest.
“Give me the chance to tell you what my heart felt, rather than what my head thought.”
“I’m a virgin. There. Are you happy?” She wriggled in his arms, which given the topic of conversation had his cock standing to full attention. Not that it was going to get any relief any time soon. He was going to woo the crap out of this woman before he took her to bed for the first time.
“I’m fucking ecstatic, Pixie. And nervous as shit. That you’d even consider sharing something as precious as that with me is the greatest gift ever.”
Pixie tucked her head into his shoulder, her hands down by her sides. Moments ticked by. Then he felt her warm lips brush his neck, and he tightened his grip on her. They blazed a trail along his neck and under his jaw until her lips found his.
She wiggled her hands out of his embrace and held either side of his face, which made him feel . . . what? Cherished?
He ran his hands along her sides, feeling the soft swell of her breasts before he moved to hold her face in the same way she held his. Following her lead, he deepened the kiss, reminding himself that no matter how strong the urge to lift her onto the kitchen counter and take her was, they had a lot of ground to cover before that could happen. A fire lit in his chest. He burned for her. Yet for once, he was looking forward to taking the time to help Pixie explore her sexuality.
Breathless, he pulled away from her. Her pout was adorable, all swollen pink lips. “We need ground rules, Snowflake.”
“We do?”
“Yeah.” He ran his hands through her hair, over her shoulders, and down until they rested at the small of her back. “I want you to feel safe with me. So rule one is, you choose the when, and I’ll choose the what.”
“You’ll choose the what?” she asked breathily.
Yeah. The what . . . because he loved control in bed more than music.
He nodded. “Trust me.”
“Are you not going to ask me why?” Pixie eyes went wide.
He didn’t need to think about it. “No,” he said shaking his head. “Because you’ll tell me when you’re ready. But will you answer this one question for me?”