Page 19 of Easy On Me

“You want me to?”

Her sultry laugh hung between us. “Don’t play dumb, flyboy. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Killing the ignition, I slung the door open and came around the hood. She already had her door open, and I caught her chin in my palm, holding her gaze under mine. “What did I tell you about that door?”

With a smirk, she planted her hand on my chest and pushed. “And I told you I didn’t need you opening my door.”

Intensely aware of that palm flattened between my pecs, I tilted my head. “Do you really want me to stop? I will.”

She flexed her fingers, sending sparks of sensation along my nerve endings. “Sometimes it feels weird waiting when I could just open it myself. It doesn’t . . . annoy . . . me as much when it’s you the way it did with Colt.”

One corner of my mouth quirked. “Because I’m more special than he is.”

“More conceited, I think.”

With a laugh, I leaned in and kissed her, a hint of sweet tea clinging to her bottom lip. “Grab the condoms.”

“You’re awful confident.” She hopped down, and I rested my hands at her waist while she twisted around to grab the bag.

“Maybe because you’ve been revving me up since we left Sale City.”

She gave me a little shove toward the walkway leading to the front porch. “Well, let’s go then, flyboy.”

My Lord, this woman. She wasn’t shy about what we were going to do, about what she wanted, and I liked that. Didn’t feel like I was fumbling around in the dark, trying to figure something out without a flashlight or schematics. Everything had just been so damned bad with Elizabeth toward the end – well, a long time before the end, but it’d definitely gotten worse – and not just in the bedroom.

With Tyler, I simply had to listen, be honest, and be myself.

I followed her up the steps, transfixed by how she moved, the sway of her hips, the way her dark hair shone under the porch light. She was pretty and graceful and tough all at the same time, and I’d follow her anywhere. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside, already undoing buttons on her blouse.

“Hey.” I nudged the door shut and twisted the lock. “I’d like to do that.”

“Too late.” She shrugged out of the shirt and caught it in one hand, sashaying through the door to the left of the little foyer.

Okay, so we were going straight for it again, just like at my house. Once more, I followed, boots sinking into thick beige carpet.

A dark cherry fourposter with matching nightstands and a dresser dominated the square room. I stood in the doorway, watching while she tossed a slew of small pillows into a corner. Never understood those things. What purpose did they serve?

She flipped the dusty rose comforter back to reveal ivory sheets edged with a hint of lace. Wasn’t that itchy?

And I didn’t know how I felt about this matter-of-fact behavior right now. I mean, going straight for it had been fine that first night, when we’d been just a hookup. But we were . . . well, I thought we were working at something more.

Here I was with a pretty, graceful, sexy-as-hell woman ready to go to bed with me, and I was balking because she was going too fast?

Maybe all I needed was to slow us down a little.

Stripping my own shirt over my head, I toed off my boots and peeled off my socks. She turned, leaning against the bed to watch me while she pulled off her boots. Her gaze dipped over me, from my shoulders to my chest to my abs then to my zipper, the fact I was hard obvious.

I popped the button on my jeans but left the zipper while I closed the distance between us in a few strides. Fanning her hands over my chest, she looked up at me, gauging my expression while she touched me, following the lines of my muscles with firm caresses. Sensation zinged out along my nerve endings.

One hand at her hip, I trailed a gentle finger down her spine. She tensed under the touch. Shifting that hand so I cradled her hips in both palms, I lowered my head and brushed a soft kiss over her shoulder. Her body went taut in my easy hold.

“What’s wrong?” I rested my nose on her shoulder, then lifted my head to meet her gaze. “We don’t have to.”

She stood tense in my loose embrace, an unhappy slant to her mouth. “This is . . . intimacy is hard for me.”

I paused. Intimacy. Not sex. Her word choice stood out as an admission we were becoming something.

Continuing to hold her loosely, I turned the thought over. Me and Elizabeth had been just sex for a long time. Maybe we’d always been just sex physically – she wasn’t into it, no matter what I did to make it good, and she indulged only to placate me or get her way. I’d needed the distance, and maybe the authenticity that was Tyler, to see that.