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“No,” she said finally, again tugging on her purse. Dammit, why had she shoved so much stuff inside? The thing weighed a ton. “I’m not big on patience. When I want something, I usually go for it.”
“Before you even have a chance to see if you want it at all?”
“Listen, Sam, if talking in riddles is your way of trying to ease back, don’t worry about it. I’m cool with—”
He leaned in and took her mouth with his, snatching away her words and her protests and whittling the moment down to just them. No words, no worries. Just two pairs of lips, two eager tongues and two unsteadily beating hearts that throbbed against each other when she pressed close.
“Rory.” He groaned her name, not giving her time to respond before he wrapped his hand around her neck and surged his tongue deeper, his breath sweetly filling her mouth. They’d ended up skipping the onion rings—amen to that—but she tasted beer and salt and a burst of heat from the hot sauce, each flavor distinct and unique. More than that, his emotions flavored the kiss. His fear, his anticipation. The urgency that both drew her in and pushed her away.
When he gasped and pulled back, chest heaving, she swallowed the urge to yank him right back again. “That’s what I mean. You kiss like that, you’re going to end up in bed.” He glanced around as if he’d just remembered they were still at Loki’s. “Or up against a sturdy tree.”
She laughed. “That’s a bad thing?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded gritty, raw. “It is. The first time we’re together, we’re going to do it right. I’m not using you for a pity fuck, Rory.”
“You think I’m with you because I feel sorry for you?”
“No. I think you like me. I also think you have a sensitive heart, more so than you even know. And if giving me your body made me feel better, you’d do it. But I want you to feel good too. I don’t want this to be about me, but about us. Give it time for there to be an us, Rory.”
She pressed her quivering lips together and tried to ignore that she now tasted like him. “What if all that time does is show us that there shouldn’t be an us?”
“Then so be it. Jumping into bed before either of us is ready won’t change that.”
“Oh, I’m ready.”
Instead of laughing, he reached out to trace her mouth with his big fingers, shocking her into stillness. “I want to make love to you properly. To be in the place where I can. Anything else is just shortchanging us both. And I already care for you too much to offer you anything less than my best, even if you’d take it. Even if you think you’re not worth more.”
The tears that sprang into her eyes were both unexpected and a pain in the ass. Please God, don’t let him see them. “It’s your call.”
“No, it’s ours. Both of ours.”
“Okay.” The breath she exhaled scalded her throat. “We’ll try it your way.”
“Our way, suggested by me.” The softness of his teasing smile made it easier for her to smile back. “But that doesn’t mean everything stops. I’m not saying I can go cold turkey. I might want to do right by you, but if I can’t at least hear you come again, I’ll probably lose my mind.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He took her hand and drew it down to his groin, his body stiffening when her fingers brushed his obvious erection. “See what I mean? I’m fucking steel for you. So don’t you dare think this is about rejection. Who I’m rejecting right now is me, for not being man enough to make love to you the way we both need.”
As much as she wanted to, she resisted curling her fingers around him and stroking that intriguingly hard, thick length. She’d explored that part of him once and wanted to again. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
“Okay.” With effort she drew her hand away, but not before he grabbed it and lifted it to his lips. He pressed them into her palm, his midnight eyes centered solely on hers.
She shivered a little as he turned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Do you feel like taking a walk? It’s a nice night.”
A walk. Her panties were wet and her heart was sore and the guy wanted to go for a stroll. But she’d agreed to try, so she would. Maybe resentfully. Maybe even fearfully. But she’d do as he asked.
She plastered a smile on her face to match his. “Sure. Why the hell not?”
An hour later they were each in their respective homes and on the phone, ending the evening as they’d ended so many others recently. Her drink tonight was a cup of microwave hot cocoa, the warmth around her waist her comfy throw rather than the delicious weight of a man’s arm. But it was okay.
Better than okay.
“You know, I’ve never been one for talking much on the phone,” she murmured, setting aside her cocoa as the warm milk, the alcohol earlier and the sexy voice in her ear lulled her into a deeper relaxation than she’d ever known.
“Me either. I don’t really do it much. Except with you.”
She liked being his first. Maybe someday even his only. “I could kinda tell that first day we spoke,” she said, giggling softly. Only a couple weeks ago. How could that be?
