“Feel good.” The lightness disappears again, and the earlier tension returns. “Where’d you come from, Story?”
I can just make out his eyes in the light that sneaks in from outside. There’s an intensity that warms me, a depth to them that makes me feel like I’m important. If he can make me feel so much with a look in his eyes, it makes me curious what else he can do. I reply, “I’ve been here all along.”
The brush of his fingers against the back of my hand sends goose bumps rippling across my skin, a simple touch that has me silently pleading for more. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, appreciated in a way that reminds me I’m one among humanity, that I’m not an island left to drift out to sea alone.
“Cooper?” I whisper.
“Yes?” The tension I feel inside has scratched his throat, making his smooth voice rough around the edges.
“Why did you cancel our date?” I roll to my side to face him, but his gaze stretches out the window into the rain. The pause becomes more as it lengthens, causing me to fill with doubt again. I hate that I don’t do this better, that I don’t understand the dynamics of a relationship. “Be honest,” I say. Good or bad, I need him to be straightforward with me.
When his eyes return to mine, he searches my face as if he’s mesmerized by the prisms in my eyes—fascinated and in awe.
His hand finds mine under the covers, his heat pressing to my skin. “Because I like you.”
“You don’t know me. That’s what the date was for.”
Pulling my hand to his mouth, he whispers against my fingers. “I know enough to know I should stay away from you.”
“Here we go with that again. This isn’t Twilight, and I don’t believe in vampires.”
His smile shines in the low light. “No, but you asked me to be honest. I asked you out because I find you incredibly attractive. I called it off because I enjoyed our encounter enough to know that I’m not the guy for you.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Cooper.”
“Hmm,” he hums but doesn’t feel the need to go into it deeper. He kisses my fingers instead, one by one until all five are done, then our fingers fold together. “When’s the last time you laid in bed with someone you just met?”
“Never.”
He chuckles, though I didn’t mean my answer to be funny. It’s just the truth. Still grinning, he says, “We should sleep. Our finals tomorrow won’t ace themselves.” My hand is released, and he closes his eyes again. “It’s been a long fucking day.”
I shouldn’t want him here or like his touch so much. I shouldn’t want him to kiss me or wonder if he’ll be gentle or rough. There’s so much I shouldn’t want or do with Cooper, but my better senses flew out the window the moment I invited him home. The more deviant ones took over when I asked him to stay in my bed. “It has,” I reply, slightly breathless as I build up the courage to take advantage of this man beside me.
He looks at me like something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
The back of his hand presses to my cheek. I don’t move away but lean in, wanting his heat all over. “You’re warm. You might have a fever.”
I can’t hide my physical need for touch . . . for his touch specifically. Embarrassed by my ridiculous reaction to a gorgeous man in bed with me, I turn away and lie on my back. “I don’t have a fever.”
The tip of his finger taps my chin to angle me toward him again. “Are you turned on, Story?” His dulcet tone reaches into my chest, breaching my inhibitions and making me want to confess my sins.
Each beat of my heart now thunders as nerves kick in. “I just . . .” I start but take a hard breath to swallow down the profession that lumps in my throat. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“It’s okay, sweet girl. We’ll take it one step at a time.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “We’ll do what feels right or nothing at all.”
Loosen up.
Go off instinct.
Go by what feels right.
I exhale in a feeble attempt to stop my heart from racing.
“There was no expectation other than getting my paper done. Now we’re just two people spending time together while this storm blows through.”
Nodding, I’m unable to think clearly under his appreciative gaze. Though my mind is scrambling, I’m starting to think we’re on two totally different pages. I was thinking this was leading somewhere.
He turns to face me. “What were you thinking?”
“Nothing. My mind is a blank canvas.” He cocks his eyebrow, and I shrivel in humiliation. “I mean, sure, yeah, we’re two people passing time in the same bed, but . . .”