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“It’s fine, Dean. I’m fine.”
But she is definitely not fine.
“Riley,” I start, but her hand flies up to stop me, and finally, she looks at me. The tears building in her eyes and the redness in her cheeks does me in.
“Dean, can you please give me a minute.”
I stand up awkwardly, not knowing what the hell I can do to make this better, except listen to her. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll, umm, go get us some water.”
She gives the barest of nods and looks back down at her lap.
I go to the kitchen sink, and with my hands on either side of it, I let my head fall down. How could I be so stupid? I let myself get so carried away with being close to her that I forgot about Riley’s needs.
I can tell she’s embarrassed about what happened, and nervous, and hell, so am I. If I want to connect with her on a deeper level, I need to make sure she knows I’m not turned off or annoyed at all. And I need to do better in the future at remembering these little things we have to do differently.
I wait another minute or so before filling two glasses with water and venturing back into the living room. Riley’s moved herself so she’s sitting upright on the couch, her legs crossed. I put the glasses of water down on the table and sit down next to her, keeping distance between us until I see how she’s feeling, even though my instinct is to wrap her in my arms.
“I’m sorry, I kind of overreacted.” She looks at me, and I ache to take away the embarrassment I see on her face. Taking her hands, I shift closer so that our legs are lined up.
“Don’t you dare apologize, beautiful,” I start gently. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the dumbass that lost track of myself. I’d blame pheromones or the fact that you are just so damn incredible it drives me to distraction, but I don’t want you taking that as blame at all.”
A smile cracks on her face, and I take the chance and wrap my arm over her shoulder, gently guiding her to rest against me. When she does, willingly, I mentally heave a sigh of relief.
“I’m committed to learning anything and everything about what you need from a partner, Riley.” My voice takes on a more serious tone, and her head tilts toward my neck. “This isn’t some short-term fling for me. I know we haven’t had very long together, but you should know that the day I changed your tire was the day I knew my life was going to change.”
“Oh, Dean,” she murmurs, her lips finding the pulse point in my neck. I tip her chin up so I can see her eyes.
“I mean it, Riley. Whatever is growing between us, it’s real. I’m in this all the way. Don’t hide yourself from me, or think that you being paralyzed is any sort of problem for me. Okay? Because the reality is, I’m probably gonna fuck up somehow again, but that’s not your fault. That’s on me. I’m the one who has to learn what I need to do to be with you. And Iwantto learn all of it. Because Iwant nothing morethan to be with you.”
This time when her lips meet mine, it’s more than just a passionate kiss.
It’s a promise.
CHAPTER7
Riley
It’s amazing how a couple of weeks can change, well, everything.
Ever since that day at Mila’s when the fiasco on the couch happened, Dean has shown himself to be a wonderful, caring, and considerate man. The trust and connection we built over a month of texting back and forth made it easy for us to feel comfortable asking questions and learning about each other. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s texted me or called me with sensitively thought-out questions about my injury, and life without the use of my legs or about how he can make the bar more accessible for everyone. And every time, he’s respectful and open to my feedback. In return, he’s told me all about his childhood, including a few juicy details, like just how old he was when he finally stopped sleeping with a blankie.
But the best part is, he doesn’t treat me like I’m made of glass. I know he’s still worried about getting caught up in the moment and forgetting about my injury, but he has somehow found a way to balance that with making sure I know just how much he wants me.
I know he’s waiting for me to make the first move at taking our relationship further physically, and I know I’m ready to do that.
I’ve reached out to some friends I met when I played wheelchair basketball for a few years who are a lot more experienced in the world of dating and intimacy than I am, and despite how awkward and embarrassing it was to ask, I got some great advice from women I trust. I know what I’ll need, and what I want to try.
I just need to pick the right time. And now that Hastings is open and running well, I think this is it.
“Stop overthinking this.”
For the tenth time tonight, I regret telling Mila about my current head space when it comes to sex with Dean. But she plied me with wine, and since she’s got a rare morning off tomorrow, we decided to make the most of the evening by giving each other pedicures, ordering takeout, and drinking an entire bottle of rosé.
“I’m not overthinking it, I’m rationally thinking it,” I protest. “Sex is a big deal for me.”
Mila’s head rolls to the side along the back of the couch so she’s semi-looking at me. “I know. I’ve kept your twenty-seven-year-old virgin secret for almost ten years. And as much as I can, I understand. All I’m saying is, you’ve got a wonderful guy ready to take care of you, and I do meantake care of you. All you need to do is tell him you’re ready. Let the rest happen naturally, instead of obsessing about what day and time.”
“It’s just, well, it probably won’t be very easy for me, especially not the first time. That’s all.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
