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With the man he is now. Not the person he used to be.
“She had a pile of books she wanted to read before she…” He trails off, not finishing his thought. He doesn’t have to. “I helped her finish as many as possible by reading them to her. I skipped the spicy bits, of course.”
I laugh softly. “Probably for the best.”
“That would’ve been weird.” His lips curve up in the corners. “After she died, I went back to reading the kind of books I typically did.”
“And what’s that?” I lean forward, wanting to learn everything about this side of Joshua.
“I’ll read anything, really. Historical fiction. Fantasy. Thriller. To me, if it’s a good story, I’ll read it. But I missed reading romance, so I went back to it. Started with the books my mom wanted to read but never got around to. Then moved on to other books that sounded interesting. But now I don’t skip the spicy parts.”
“That’s…surprisingly refreshing,” I say.
“What? That I read the spicy bits? I’d be a fool not to.”
“No. That you admit you read romance. I don’t know many guys who would.”
“They’re missing out. Especially if they want to make a woman happy.”
“What do you mean?”
He toys with the stem of his wine glass. “There’s an entire genre of fiction that’s basically an instruction manual for what women want. It’s like insisting on putting together a complicated piece of furniture from IKEA without so much as looking at the instructions. You might eventually figure it out, but not without a hell of a lot of trial and error along the way.”
I laugh. “Is that what you think romance novels are? Instruction manuals?”
“Some of them.” He shrugs.
“And what have they taught you?”
“That women want to be treated with respect. They want to be with someone who actually listens instead of assuming he’s the smartest person in the room. And they want to be with someone who is more than willing to make sure all their needs and desires are taken care of. Plus…” He leans closer, voice dropping. “Reading some of those books has given me some great ideas. Remember the other night with the wax?”
A shiver rolls down my spine.
Oh, I remember.
Every delicious second.
The heat. The anticipation. The way he admired me, like he’d just unlocked something inside himself.
Or maybe he’d unlocked something inside me.
Then again, he didn’t just do that the other night.
Whenever I’m with him, I discover something new about myself. Like with every look, every touch, every kiss, he’s breaking through the woman I thought I was and helping me find who I really am.
“I got that idea from a book.” He settles back into his chair, resting his ankle on his opposite thigh. “If memory serves, I didn’t exactly hear any complaints.”
“And you won’t.” I chew on my lower lip to keep from grinning. “That was a lot of fun.”
“Good to know.” He flashes me a devious smirk. “Because I’ve been making a list of other things I’d like to try.”
The atmosphere shifts, becoming heated. There’s always an electric current running between us, but it’s even more charged tonight.
Probably because I came here expecting to be naked and in his bed in a matter of seconds. Instead, we’ve spent the past hour talking. Laughing. Enjoying a meal he cooked for me.
It’s the most fun I’ve had with a man in years. I can’t remember the last time I had dinner with Wyatt and actually enjoyed myself. Not like this.
On the rare occasion he did surprise me with a home-cooked meal, the conversation was never enjoyable. He’d talk about football. His last game. His next game. Which player needed to get their shit together. Which coach didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
