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He needed to make this right. Now.
“Jess?” he said and shifted in his seat.
She turned her head to look at him. “Hm?”
What the hell was he going to say?
He licked his lips and tightened his grip on the wheel. “About last night…”
The words he wanted to say slipped away, leaving him balancing on the edge of doom, all while every muscle in his body went tight.
“What about it?” Jessica asked slowly.
He just needed to start talking. She was smart. Brilliant even. She would understand him. Especially once he broke down exactly why things had happened. Then they could discuss it like rational, reasonable adults.
Fuck he was sweating through his shirt already.
“I don’t know how you’re feeling about what happened at the hotel, but I wanted to offer some context.” He glanced at her but found her face devoid of expression. Her hair had air dried, and he was surprised to learn that her normally straight hair had a gentle wave to it. “It’s completely natural after having a life-or-death experience like yesterday morning, that you would feel the need to do something life-affirming. Something that makes you feel alive. It’s actually very common for people to want to have sex after going through something traumatic or a brush with death. It’s a natural survival response.”
Samuel eased his hold on the steering wheel. This wasn’t going as poorly as he’d feared. He was getting the ideas out in a way that made sense instead of jumbled together. That much was a relief. He’d really been worried about botching this. This wasn’t so bad. Sure he still wanted a sinkhole to open up under the Jeep and swallow him whole, but it could be worse. It could be a lot worse.
Now for the most painful part.
“I also want to apologize.” He knew he should look at her, but he couldn’t turn his head from the road. They were one of very few vehicles right now, so it wasn’t a safety issue. He just couldn’t look at her and say it. “I knew exactly what was going on in my head last night. I understood the psychology. I should have… I should have stopped us. I overstepped and I’m sorry.”
Friday. I-70 Eastbound.
All the muscles in Jessica’s body were tense to the point she was beginning to feel nauseated.
Talk about out of left field.
Here she’d been agonizing about her part in things, how she’d pretty much thrown herself at Samuel and steamrolled him into having sex with her. Granted, it wasn’t like she’d had to convince him very much. They’d exchanged words. They’d had an understanding. And now he wanted to chalk it up to psychology?
What the actual fuck?
She couldn’t think of a single damn thing to say to his diatribe.
Had he not wanted to have sex with her? Was that what this was about? Had she coerced him into it because his brain was sending mixed signals?
Here she’d been worried about coming on too strong. It was a regular criticism she received from men who preferred to be the ones initiating things. Which was why she really should have slowed down.
But…
Hadn’t Samuel kissed her? Not the other way around?
Between stress and heightened emotions, it was hard to recall everything with clarity and she found herself second-guessing those memories.
Had she…?
Had she forced herself on him?
The very idea made her want to scrape her own skin off then boil herself in oil, to begin with. She prosecuted rape cases. They gave her nightmares and was the reason she’d made sure to go to therapy once a week so that she could keep doing her job the best way possible.
“Jess?”
“We’re good.” Her words were wooden and automatic.
She wanted to snatch them out of the air and stuff them back inside her mouth.
