“Let me tell you something,” he says, scooting a little closer to me. “What just happened tonight was exactly what I wanted to happen tonight for a number of reasons.”
He looks to the ceiling for a second, sorting through what he wants to say. I feel a lump in my throat, but I listen anyway because I want to understand. I want to feel beautiful in front of him. I want to feel like I can be with him for the next few days and be confident and enjoy myself.
“Being a good lover isn’t about how quickly you can get off. It’s about the interplay leading up to it, the anticipation of what’s to come. That’s why I let you fuck with me a little bit in the last day—there was no way you were going to be in charge tonight, but it let you work yourself up. It kept you thinking about it, thinking about me. Sex is as much a mental stimulation as a physical one. People forget that.”
He’s right. I’ve never considered that, never had someone spend so much effort to work me up before. It definitely took it to the next level. I was dying at his hands, nearly begging for his touch.
“Feeling you want me, watching you react to me was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t tell you what it gives me to know that I gave you those feelings.”
I feel the grin stretch across my lips and I see it reflected on his face. I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it.
His chest rises with a deep inhale. “And another thing—your tough little girl attitude is not lost on me. I saw it on your face the day at the supermarket. Your vulnerability is tucked away in your green eyes, a piece of innocence that you protect with your attitude. That drew me to you just as much as your banging body, and that’s something I want to protect. And that’s why I wanted you to see tonight that this wasn’t about me. I didn’t bring you here to use you for entertainment. I brought you here to . . .”
My heart lurches, beating so hard I think it’s going to slam right out of my chest.
“I wanted to get to know you too, you know?” He peers at me through his thick lashes. “And as much as I wanted to press you against the wall and bury myself inside you, I wanted you to realize, to know without a doubt, it’s not just that. I don’t just want to fuck you.”
“But you will fuck me, right?” I ask, my voice breaking on the last word as I fight a smile.
“Definitely.”
I suck in a breath, already anticipating it but knowing it’s probably not going to happen tonight. He seems determined to have barriers tonight. Fucker.
He reaches across the sheets and wraps an arm around my waist. Rolling me over to face away from him, he slides me across the mattress and into his chest, my back to his front. He brushes my hair off my shoulder and waits until my breathing evens out.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asks.
I nod.
The stillness extends throughout the room, everything absolutely quiet. I can hear his heart beat, the rhythm steady and strong. If I listened closely enough, I’d fall into a deep sleep.
“I know I probably seem insecure,” I say quietly. “I just haven’t had someone do that to me before.”
“Do what before?”
“You know? Just . . . put me before them.” I stifle a sad laugh. “Every man I’ve been with has made sure, regardless of anything else, they got off. And you were just so focused on me. I was just a little confused.”
I feel his throat move as he swallows. “I don’t want to talk about you with other guys.”
“Okay.”
“I wanted to take care of you. I wanted you to feel how much you turned me on.”
“I definitely felt that.”
“Good. And I like that you’re a little insecure. It just means you’re real.”
He tugs the blankets over our bodies. I don’t pull away. I’m too tired and it feels entirely too good being in his arms, my head tucked under his chin, his arm around my waist, to consider pulling away.
“Hey, Fenton?” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“For the record,” I yawn, “I didn’t fall in love with you tonight.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through me. “Good to know.”
My eyelids grow heavy and drop closed. I drift off to sleep wrapped in the arms of Fenton Abbott.
I curl my legs under me and take a sip of my coffee. The sun is shining bright, but the tint on the windows keeps most of the heat out. The city looks deader in the day than it does in the middle of the night, which is amusing. But it is Las Vegas.
The clock on the far wall strikes eleven. Any normal weekday at this time, I’d be working at the bookstore. Today isn’t normal though. Nothing about any of this is normal.