I grabbed the back of her head, kissing her to shut her up. “Message received.” I could never think of another woman while in bed with Codie. I just didn’t want her to think I would do anything to put her at risk.
She pulled away with a small smile teasing her lips. “Glad we got that straightened out. I’m kinda hungry. Room service?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I watched her get up, get dressed and go in search of the room service menu, trying not to read too much into the fact she didn’t want to cuddle or talk about what just happened or where things stood between us. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t a guy who worried about shit like that. I was always the one to bail first, not wait around wondering if there was something wrong with me.
Grabbing my phone, I scrolled my social media accounts. I’d been tagged in hundreds of comments about the show already. General consensus was that I killed it, but it was tough to think about that as I tried to read Codie’s mind.
She was scanning the menu like food was the important consideration in her life. I’d known a few cold women in the past, but Codie had never been one to shut down after sex. Of course, I’d been her first lover. She was a kid back then. I had no idea what she’d been through the past fifteen years, the kind of men she’d been with, and how they’d influenced her. Or maybe it was just me. She didn’t want to letmein because she was afraid of getting hurt again.
“How about chicken quesadillas?” she asked, looking up at me. “We could share?”
“Sure, whatever.”
She frowned. “You okay?”
“You tell me.”
She set the menu down on the small desk in the entrance and walked towards the bed. Her hair was a sexy tangled mess and her lips were puffy from being kissed so hard. She had red marks on her neck and chest from my scruff. She looked well and truly loved and it was hot as hell, making it hard to remember why I felt slighted. If I had any sense, I’d try to lure her back to bed for round two instead of whining like a little bitch because I wasn’t getting the attention I craved.
But that damn word, communication, kept echoing in my head. And I knew if I had a prayer of going the distance with Codie this time, I had to get this shit out.
I set my phone down on the mattress and grabbed her hand, tugging her closer. “Why were you so quick to bail on me?”
“What are you talking about? I was just hungry.”
“I call bullshit.” I knew she could kick me out on my ass for forcing her to deal with her demons before she was ready, but that was a chance I was willing to take, to get to the raw, real, unvarnished Codie I wanted to see.
She shook her head, tugging her hand free from mine. “I don’t care what you think you know, Mav. You’re wrong. You’re reading too much into—”
“Have you had many serious boyfriends? You told me about the tattoo artist. Anyone else?” Asking about the other men in her life was torture, but I had to know whether I’d done this to her or was it someone else who’d made her so guarded?
“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t talk about other people, especially not in bed.”
“I need to know.” Her eyes met mine and I knew she wanted to look away, but wouldn’t, believing it was a sign of weakness or fear. “Please.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Why is this so important to you?”
“Because you’re important to me.” I curled my hand around her leg. “I just want to know what made you like this. Was it me or someone else?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re afraid of getting too close.”
I wasn’t an expert on romantic relationships, in fact, I’d always been a trainwreck, but my gut told me I was right about Codie’s fears and I had to bring them to light or it would drive me crazy. And since I was holding on to my sobriety by a thread most days, I couldn’t afford anything that would cause me to obsess.
“I’m just not much of a cuddler,” she said, shrugging. “No big deal, unless you’re determined to make it one.”
“I’m not used to women hopping out of bed as soon as we’ve done the deed.”
“Aww, poor baby.” She stroked my bicep. “Did it hurt your ego?”
“No, my heart.” She was teasing. I wasn’t.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, obviously weighing her words carefully. “But we have to be careful. I meant what I said about your sobriety. It has to be your top priority. That’s why relationships are a bad idea in the first year of recovery.”
“So, what are you saying?”
