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I’ve had two glasses, not much, but if I’m driving an hour back home tonight then I have to watch it. I grab another glass and fill it from the faucet, downing it in one go.
She takes our two glasses and walks into the living room, setting them on the coffee table. I’m edgy as I dry the last of the dishes, knowing that we’re approaching that awkward turning point in our night. Heading to the couch to join her, I’m hoping this goes the way I want.
“You don’t mind that we stayed in and ate here, do you? I just realized that I kind of took over, but the fine dining options around here are limited to a mediocre diner and a sub shop.”
“Not at all. Dinner was great.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll cook for you next time.”
She side-eyes me as she sips her wine. “Why do I have this feeling that you’re some master chef or something?”
“I have absolutely no idea. And I definitely don’t want to disappoint you, but when I said cook for you I meant grill you a burger.”
She laughs. “Well, you know I like burgers.”
I rest my head back on the couch, close my eyes and sigh to tease her when I say, “Watching you eat a cheeseburger was the highlight of my week.”
She surprises me when she shoots back, “That’s how you know a man likes sex...When he actually gets off on the sight of a woman eating.”
I nearly spit my wine out at that one, and it takes me a full minute to stop laughing. “You’ve met a guy who doesn’t like sex?”
She tilts her head to the side and shrugs in a way that’s playful and so damn sexy. “You know what I mean...Some like it more than others.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Grace
I went there.
I brought sex into the conversation and now the air is thick with tension. Not the bad kind. No, the air is crackling with uncertainty and anticipation. We’re at that point where one of us is either going to push us over the edge, or the moment will pass and slip into that big black hole of regrets and missed opportunities.
When he looks to me with a question in his eyes, my body heats. I haven’t been touched the way I need to be touched in a very long time, and right now I’m downright aching for Owen.
He sets his down glass on the table and then takes mine and does the same. “Come here,” he says, taking one of my hands and gesturing for me to move onto his lap. The casual slip of a dress I’m wearing rides up my thighs as I move to straddle him, and the friction of his jeans against my skin has me burning with a need to move. I want to push my chest up against his and slide in even closer so that I can feel him between my legs.
I want his hands on me.
Time does something to a woman. I still have insecurities, still have moments where I’m berating myself over the decisions I’ve made, but I certainly give less fucks than I did a decade ago. I don’t feel ashamed to want this, to want a man I’ve spent hardly any time with. So when he pauses with his hands holding both sides of my face, I don’t feel the least bit shy when I tell him that I want him to touch me.
He keeps his hands on my face, though, pulls me in gently and kisses me. And for a moment there I forget about my needy self, because his kiss and the way his hands are cradling my face make me feel so cherished and adored that I have to hold back the emotion.He doesn’t even know you, I tell myself.You’re substituting him for someone he’s not.
And then my body is back on fire. Whoever or whatever this is, I don’t care. I want and I will take whatever he’s offering.
Owen stops and pulls back, hands still on my face. “Hey, where’d you go?”
It takes a moment to register, takes a moment to open my eyes and really see him. “What do you mean?”
“Are you here withme, Grace?” Hands back resting on my hips, he looks off to the side when he says, “I know it was pretty forward to ask you out a week after you broke off your engagement. Maybe that wasn’t fair to you.”
“I’m not thinking about him, I promise.”
“You look sad, though.”
“I’m just...I’ve gone without for a long time.” He cocks his head to the side. “Not without sex,” I clarify. “Without feeling anything when I’m close to someone. I know that sounds awful.” I scoot my hips back. “Maybe I am still a bit of a mess over it. Staying with him all this time because it was safe and easy...”
“Doesn’t make you a terrible person. Now if you married the guy and didn’t really love him, that’s a different story.”
