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His impulses often got him into trouble, and rarely got him what he actually wanted.
But when he slowed down, delayed his gratification—like the morning he’d spent time with his mouth all over her body—he ended up with more of what he wanted.
And he definitely wanted more of Sabine than just a holiday.
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I don’t remember the breakups happening in that order, but I trust your memory more than mine. I can see why that would be something you wouldn’t want to be a part of.” He blew out a breath and exposed even more of his soul. “My feelings for you are not casual. I’m not interested in rushing through this.”
She tried a hopeful smile. “Yeah?”
He couldn’t resist her when she was looking up at him like that. “Yeah.” He lowered his head and kissed her soft and slow and sweet.
“Would you like to stay the night?” she asked between breathless kisses.
He braced his hands on the cushions by her ribs, and raised himself up and gazed down at her.
So beautiful.
He wanted her.
Bad.
But she’d just reminded him why he needed to break the patterns he had. Because she mattered. Because what they were building mattered.
“I have to tell you something,” he said.
She visibly braced and he almost laughed.
“I know how that sounded. It’s not bad. Not like that anyway.” He sat up and brought her with him. He leaned over and grabbed her shirt off the floor and handed it back to her.
He took comfort in her confused and disappointed expression.
“I’ve thought a lot about how to bring this up and I’ve decided there’s just never going to be a good way to say it.”
She tugged her shirt back over her head and gave him her full attention.
“The day Nora burned my house down I took a vow of celibacy.” Immediately he cringed. He waved a hand at her surprised expression. “Not like in an official way. I sound like an asshole. No. I just promised to myself, to stop having sex until…”
She dipped her head like she was prompting him to finish that statement.
And that was the problem. He didn’t have a clear ending to that sentence.
“Until I know I’ve found the one, I guess.”
She sat back, thoughtful.
Not upset or judgmental. Just thoughtful.
She deserved more context.
“I’ve used sex a lot in my relationships to hide from real intimacy,” he said. “And just like what you pointed out with me and Saint-Tropez, I have some patterns that would be better broken. For everyone involved.”
“How will you know?” she asked. “That the time has come?”
He swallowed. That was a good question. Was he sweating?
“I’m still figuring that out,” he admitted carefully.
Her eyes went soft, and a smile touched her lips.
