Willow tried to play it cool and smiled encouragingly at him. No man had ever accused her of driving him to exhaustion.
"A woman doesn't kiss and tell," she replied to cover her surprise at his question.
She wasn't really sure what was going on here. Maybe it was the fact that he had taken her home from the restaurant only a few hours earlier and he didn't really know her. Maybe that was a good thing.
But Thatcher was nothing like any man she had slept with before. He was strong and confident and a hunk of muscle that made her go wild. He also seemed to think Willow was some sexy vixen – or at least he was treating her like that. For hell's sake, she told him she preferred a Warren Buffett poster on her wall to an athlete and he still took her home and ravished her senseless.
Was she dreaming? When did she become this person who was very unlike her usual self and why did she like being this other Willow?
Well, she knew why she liked this other Willow. This other Willow was completely satisfied with being enraptured by Thatcher.
He pulled himself closer and kissed her gently, his hand skimming the skin under her hoodie.
"You look good in my clothes," he murmured against her lips.
"You made that very clear in the kitchen."
"Did I?"
His thumb drew circles against her skin, making her feel warm all over again.
This was one of those fairy tales where the clock was going to hit midnight and her carriage was going to turn into a pumpkin or something, but she was going to enjoy this night for as long as she could.
Thatcher's kisses against her lips became stronger, the pressure of his hand more noticeable against her waist. He wanted her again and she would be more than happy to give in.
But then he pulled back from her, a disappointing groan coming from his lips, and she worried that he had suddenly figured out she really wasn't the sexy woman he thought she was.
"Can I confess something to you?"
This was where he was going to confess that he realized she wasn't all he thought she was.
"You have exhausted me. Like, utterly exhausted me."
"Sorry."
His laugh vibrated under her fingers that she hadn't pulled away from his chest just yet.
"Don't you dare be sorry for that. I wanted every minute of it." He leaned forward and kissed her again. "But can you just give me some time to recuperate?"
She nodded against her pillow.
"Stay here and get some sleep. Promise you won't leave."
Willow's brain was telling her that it could be a good time to bolt before Thatcher figured out she wasn't this vixen he thought she was. But there were other parts of her body that were telling her brain to shut the hell up.
"I won't leave."
He smiled and closed his eyes. "Get some sleep then. You'll need it soon."
"Promise?"
"Fuck yeah, I promise."
He draped his arm across her belly, his leg over her thighs pulling him closer to her. It was like she was a teddy bear being smuggled by a lumberjack. It felt amazing.
Thatcher's breath slowed and he relaxed against her and sleep took over his body, but Willow was still wide awake. She was too wired to go to sleep after what he had done to her.
There was also that nagging voice in her brain telling her to go, telling her that this was enough and she needed to leave.
