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“Oh shit. I am so sorry, Rowan,” I groan.
She laughs even harder. “Sorry for what?” she demands. “Is that the best you can do? Weak-sauce.” And she chest-bumps me back.
“Oh, no. That was so inappropriate.” She giggles.
“I’m a big boy. I can take it.” I grab her by the hand and twirl her around.
She laughs. “Oh, I love dancing. Paolo and I dance all the time.” And she twirls around in front of me.
I stare at her in shock. “Paolo?”She has a boyfriend?I feel like the breath has been knocked out of me. Some other man is putting his hands on her ... putting his mouth on her ...
Rowan gives an incredulous laugh. “You should see the look on your face. Paolo is married, we work together, and he and his wife do competitive salsa dancing. Paolo and I dance because it annoys Amanda.”
“Oh. Well, if it annoys Amoeba ...” I say, because I know it will make her laugh.
I grab her hand again and do another twirl, and as I do, she trips and falls into my arms. “Ack. I love dancing, but I also have two left feet.”
I sweep her up in my arms, cradling her there. She doesn’t resist, just stares at me, eyes shining.
“I think you’ve injured yourself. I need to examine ... your ankle,” I say, moving towards my bedroom.
“Is that actually the best line you can come up with?”
She twines her arms around my neck.
I don’t usually have to come up with lines. It’s more like I have to come up with excuses to get women to leave me alone, but I don’t want to tell her how often I’ve pretended to have a headache.
“Did it hurt? When you fell down from heaven?” I grin fiercely at her as I carry her into my bedroom.
“Oh, no. Mason. Please tell me you’ve never said that to a woman.” She’s laughing so hard she can’t catch her breath.
“If I told you that you had a beautiful body—”
“Would you hold it against me?” She finishes the cheesy line with me as I walk into my room, which is dominated by a king-size bed with silky black and gray bedding.
“How dare you objectify me like that,” I mock-chide her, setting her down next to the bed.
And then I don’t know what happens, but some invisible signal makes our clothing fly off.
My shirt falls on the ground. Hers just sails off somewhere as I toss it. I’m pulling down her pants, she’s ripping off my jeans ...
We’re naked, and my entire body is one giant pulse of desire.
“We’re doing this,” she says, staring at me, eyes huge and dazed.
“If you want to.” My voice is hoarse with need.
“Mason, you’re an idiot.” She presses up against me, her small, perfect breasts crushed up against my chest. I lean down to kiss her and I’m devouring her, fingers twined in her hair. We tumble and fall onto the bed, briefly breaking apart, and then I wind my legs around her and I’m kissing her again, my tongue ravaging her mouth.
She tastes hot and sweet and she moans into my mouth as I slide on top of her. My throbbing, aching cock presses against her firm flesh as I kiss her again and again.
Then I rear back. “I have condoms in the nightstand. Uh ... haven’t been with anyone in quite a while ...”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
But I want her to know that, because the thought of her being with any other man besides me is like a bruise on my soul.
“I also am on birth control, but you can never be too careful,” she says. “And if it matters, I haven’t had time to date anyone in so long that I think it’s grown back and I’m a born-again virgin.” She sits bolt-upright, her face flaming red. “Oh no. Did I just say that? I am so freaking awkweird.”
