“Is there something you have planned?”
He leaned over and slipped one hand gently along her neck and down to her collarbone. “I need to have a closer look at these tiger pajamas, first of all.”
He slid his hand down her waist, caressing her gently with one hand so that she shivered.
“I remember all your outfits,” he continued as he glided one hand along her ribcage. “The velvet coat. The red lace dress. The green corduroy skirt. The nonsensical t-shirt about demonic marshmallows.”
“That was my sexiest t-shirt.”
“I agree.”
As his hands slid over her, she thought of his comparison of sex and woodworking. It wasn’t that he had perfect moves, exactly. It was that his hands were exploring her, paying attention to every reaction, every place that made her melt against his touch. She was afraid to look at how startlingly beautiful his eyes were. She closed her eyes against his steady gaze.
On impulse, Sarah rolled them over so that she was looking down at him. She knew what she didn’t want, after hearing Ren’s stories. She didn’t want him feeling like he had to prove anything, like he had to act the part of an expert lover.
“I want to touch you first,” she said.
He nodded, looking vulnerable. “Okay.”
“And I want to tell you,” she said softly, “that you are lovable.” And she kissed his cheeks. “And patient.” She kissed him again. “And you have very strong opinions that I love to hear even when I disagree.” She kissed him on the neck. “And even though you’ve sometimes hurt me, I have never doubted that you were a good person.”
He caught one of her wrists with his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Telling you how I feel.”
He took a breath. She’d found the thing that scared him. Being a skilled lover—he was good at that. He wasn’t good at being loved.
She kissed him softly. “And you are supportive of my work and of everybody who shows you their photography. And you’re a good father.” She kissed him again. “And I don’t mind waiting a year for you to move closer to me. And if that doesn’t work out, I don’t mind finding a way to move to Las Vegas to be with you.”
He blinked up at her, then reached for her and pulled her down into a kiss.
“Sarah,” he whispered. There was wonder in his voice, surprise, and joy of arriving here at last. “I’m so scared I’ll mess this up somehow.”
“What part?”
“Everything. Dating you. Going to bed with you.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Someone once told me that sex can be very healing.”
He laughed against her hair. “I can’t believe I tried that line and thought it would work.”
“You mean it’s not true?”
He grinned as he rolled on top of her, taking her wrists and placing them above her head, looking down at her, making her meet his gaze.
“Stay like this for a moment,” he whispered. “I have very specific things that I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”
He kissed down her neck, across her shoulders, and then he paused to take her pajamas off slowly and carefully, taking his time, until she was completely naked and he was looking down at her, taking her in. He leaned forward and kissed her breasts and let out a low groan that surprised her, like he had been waiting forever to touch her. Her hands scrambled for the bottom of his t-shirt like she was a teenager, trying to figure out how to get him undressed, and he pulled it off in one swift motion and returned to kissing her, another hand sliding between her legs.
She could feel him still smiling against her skin as she arched her back. “Stop smirking,” she whispered. “You know you’re good at this.”
He leaned into her ear and whispered, “I have to make up for your high school years.”
“Ivan was pretty bad, too,” she whispered back.
He stilled for just a second. “I fucking knew it,” he replied. “I knew it about that guy.” And then his skilled hands were touching her and her whole body arched back.
“We should have been doing this the whole time,” she said.
