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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Carrie
I gaze up into his eyes as we stand on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
Dinner was lovely, and at some point, I started to wish I had taken Rook up on his offer to have dinner at his place.
I was grateful for the distractions Ashley provided initially, but as the night wore on, I started wishing that she’d spend more time with the diners sitting at her other assigned tables.
Although I didn’t see exactly how much of a tip Rook gave her, I know it was a lot because her face lit up when she saw it, and she almost jumped into his arms.
“What is going on in that brilliant mind of yours?” he asks.
“Another rule is I want to do it in the dark,” I blurt out.
His gaze drops to my breasts and beyond to my legs. “That’s a hard one for me to agree to, Carrie.”
I like knowing that, but it doesn’t change a thing. “I’d prefer if it was dark.”
“Are you open to a compromise?”
I’m open to almost anything when he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me right up, and I do mean in that way that I’ve wanted him to since I first met him months ago.
I nod slightly, still steadfast in my commitment to make love for the first time in the dark. That has nothing to do with being ashamed of my body. It’s anchored in a past experience that has made me question whether I’ll be able to keep my emotions under control during sex.
If I shed a tear of happiness that I’m putting my virginity behind me for once and for all, I don’t want Rook to see that. I don’t want that to be what he remembers from our time together in bed.
“Let me fuck you in a dark room with open curtains.”
“No,” I spit out, horrified by the idea that someone else could see in and witness what will be the most intimate moment of my life so far.
“My bedroom window overlooks the city,” he explains. “No buildings are obstructing my view, and if you’re not comfortable with that, I have sheer curtains, so I can close those.”
Suddenly feeling silly, I let out a slight laugh. “You must think I’m…”
“Perfect?” he substitutes the word he thinks fits.
I would have finished my sentence with an entirely different word.
Ashamed.
That’s what I was going to say to him. ‘You must think I’m ashamed of my body.’
I’m not, and I want him to know that, but I’m stuck on the idea that he thinks I’m perfect.
He steps closer to me to lower his voice. “Your body will react to me in some subtle and not-so-subtle ways. I’ll be able to sense what feels good to you. My touch will make you crave more, and I want… no, I need to see your movements because that will make me even harder, Carrie.”
Holy heck.
My throat constricts as my neck heats.
“Making you come is what I want most.” He goes on, oblivious to the people passing us, “I need to touch you, taste you, and fuck you. I want to see your body react through each orgasm you’ll have.”
“Each?” I question. “Will there be more than one?”
That sets his eyes alight and sends a wicked smile over his lips. “Guaranteed.”
Dear God.
