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“Oh…”
He stopped and she made a little squeak as he clamped his hand over her sex again, tight enough to feel the strength in his grip. “You hold onto that climax, doc. You don’t get that until I say so. Isn’t that right?”
When he gave her a little swat there, she managed to gasp out the words over the rocketing sensation. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Open your eyes now. You can watch me prepare for this.”
She saw him reach into the chest and set things out on the fireplace. Isopropyl alcohol, the wands with their marshmallow tips.
“You showered last night, right?”
“Yes. I can take another if…”
“No. That’s good. You didn’t put on any perfume or lotion tonight, right?”
“Just deodorant. I washed off with some moisturizing soap I picked up when we were grocery shopping.”
“That should be all right. Let’s start with a kiss and holding hands, like any relationship should.”
Like her childhood fantasy. There was a trio of dark green pillar candles on the fireplace. When he lit the shortest one, the heated scent brought to mind pine trees, majestically swaying on the borders of harvested fields at home. When the winds picked up, it would carry that aroma to her nose, flutter it across her skin.
“Did you ever pass your finger through the flame of a candle?”
“No.” Her voice was throaty. “But I saw kids do it at a party once, when I was in middle school.”
“That was when I started doing it. And playing with matches.” He held out his hand, and she put hers in it. “You’re cold. I’ll see if I can fix that. Does it worry you, Les? Letting me take care of you?”
“Yes. At first. Always before, when anyone else did it, I’d resist it, prove that I didn’t need that. But with you…I want to need it.”
“An important difference. What we want and need.” He stroked her fingers one by one, traced the lines of her palm and moved to her wrist. His lightest stroke there set off a ripple of reaction through her arm and breast, down to her thighs and everything in between. He could do that, with no more than a grasp of her wrist.
“Sometimes I worried I resisted my family’s coddling just because they were so determined to offer it.”
A smile appeared. “Hardheadedness is a Wilder family trait. But what if the right guy—not Bart, someone older and capable, well established—told you he wanted to marry you. You wouldn’t have to finish your degree. You could get a job as a dog walker, work in a flower shop, be a housewife. Have…”
He stopped himself. He hadn’t used himself in the example, but if it was going to be a true test, he was the only one that would fit in that slot.
“Have kids,” she said quietly.
He tightened his grip, tacit agreement to let the hypothetical unfold in that direction. “I’d take care of you. You could step away from all the demands and anxiety you’ve put on yourself. How would that feel?”
She lay before the fireplace, in nothing but sexy underwear, under the shadow of his large body. In his intent expression she saw the unsettling truth. If they were at the point of their relationship where marriage was on the table—which they weren’t, they absolutely weren’t—he would willingly give her all that. She could accept all that. Except…
“No,” she said. “You wouldn’t be okay with that.”
“Why not? The doting wife, ready with my beer at the end of the day? Which I would very politely ask her to bring to me, if she wasn’t busy with the kids. Please and thank you.” His gaze twinkled.
“If I truly wanted that, you’d be all for it,” she responded. “But if I didn’t, you wouldn’t.”
“How do you know?” His expression gave her no cues, but she didn’t need them.
“Because if you were okay with it, you would have helped me bathe that first night. You wouldn’t have told me to pick myself up and get my ass in the shower.”
That mask over his expression dropped, stunning her with the depth of what it had hidden. “I wanted to tear apart the world to help you feel better. All I wanted to do was hold you.”
“I’m sorry I put you through that.” She turned her head to kiss the side of his hand, a shy brush of lips. “But I like that you know when to be nice to me…and when not to be.”
He touched her face then clasped her wrist. “Curl your hand in a loose fist, but leave two fingers out straight, side by side.”
