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“You haven’t even seen the inside,” he said, walking up the steps and unlocking the front door. Inside or not, it was still amazing.
“How old is it?”
“It was built in 1898.” He held out his hand and I took it.
He led me through the door, and I stopped in awe. Partly from the home looking so classic and breathtaking, and partly because Jack’s touch sent heat through me. The fantasy of what it would be like to feel more of his skin overtook my mind again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to dislodge the thought.
It’d never happen.
Couldn’t.
Shouldn’t.
Maybe it was because, for a twenty-three year old woman, I wasn’t very sexually experienced. Or maybe it was because I had a past littered with less than pleasant memories. Whatever the reason, my body chose tonight to turn on and entertain the idea of something more.
A kiss maybe?
Whatever may or may not be, in that moment, I felt alive. And for the first time in a long time, more warm than cold. More relaxed than frigid. More confident than scared.
My eyes shot open in time with the tap of his shoes against the hardwood floors as he walked further into his home. I looked at Jack, standing amongst the finest craftsmanship I’d ever seen and wanted to sigh…or bolt.
No, not bolt. I wanted to stay. Despite tonight tilting between being scary and exciting, I was already in over my head. But I didn’t care. Being afraid was exhausting. And nothing about this man caused me fear. In fact, he brought out a slew of other emotions I didn’t really know existed.
“Would you like to come in further?” he asked, as I hovered at the entrance in the foyer.
I took a few more steps and looked around the beautiful house. It was cozy. Buttery walls with rich leather furniture lined the living room. Wrap-around windows gave an impressive view of the city surrounding us, and hardwood floors expanded as far as I could see. Dark reds, browns and creams made up the color palette. It was truly warm and inviting. The staircase looked like an antique itself, and had intricate designs carved throughout the wood.
“Make yourself at home,” Jack said. He disappeared for a moment, walking around the corner, quickly returning with a cup of water.
“Thank you.” The instant I drank down the cool liquid, I felt a bit better. But I still needed a minute, some air maybe. Because I didn’t know what to do or what to think. Why did I want to pull Jack to me right then and see what his kiss was like?
“You look flushed,” he said, his tone so raspy it made me want to tell him why.
“I was just thinking of something,” I whispered, my gaze zeroing in on his mouth.
“Oh?” He took one step closer. “Care to share your thoughts?”
I licked my lips…ready to share more than just the thoughts. He’d said earlier he wondered what I tasted like. I was wondering the same about him.
“Is it easy for you? Telling the truth?” I asked.
“Generally.”
“How? Not that I lie, but I just don’t know how you can say what you say.”
“You mean voice what I want?”
“Yes.” It was then it hit me. I wanted that. To be able to say what I wanted. Put a voice to my fears. My desires. My everything. To have someone actually listen.
“It’s a matter of worth over value,” he said. “Any given thing has a value. I just decide what it’s worth to me to keep that value.” He took a step forward. “For example, you have a value. My silence wasn’t worth you walking away.”
A heavy ache settled in my ribs. This man thought I had value and was worth hanging on to? For how long? Did it matter?
“It makes the truth easy,” he continued, his smooth voice rolling over me like freshly melted caramel. “To tell you I think of your taste is easy to admit. Especially if it means you’ll look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I whispered.
“Like you just may let me find out.”
