“That’s quite the stack of blankets.” I gave him a stern look. “You were really freezing?”
“Well…freezing might be pushing it.” His impish smile was more than I could resist, and I swooped in to steal a kiss. “Lonely might be more accurate.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” I squeezed him close.
“You can do that. And whatever else you’d like.” He sighed happily but then frowned. “I don’t think I’m a very good sex teacher.”
“How do you figure that?” I scooted around to sit on the corner of the mattress, so I could study him. I wasn’t sure if he was legit concerned or if he was fishing for praise.
“Earlier, I got so caught up in what you were doing, I forgot I was supposed to be giving you pointers. It was too good. You stole my brain cells.”
“You hear me complaining?” I shook my head at him. “I’ll take your pointers, but I’ll also take being able to get you out of your head. Sounds like a compliment to me.”
“It is.” He sat next to me.
“See? This is all new to me. You’re being nice, letting me fumble around and find what works.”
“I like the fumbling.” He nuzzled my neck. “Honestly, I’m a little jealous. You get to do all of this for the first time. Maybe I wish I’d waited for someone like you.”
I moved so I could look him in the eyes. “Your first time was bad?”
The abstract anger I’d felt earlier toward his stalker was nothing compared to the white-hot rage at the thought of someone hurting Danny.
“Not that kind of bad. You can put away the murderous expression.” He patted my biceps, but I wasn’t reassured by his too-bright tone. “More like I don’t remember much of it. I always liked kissing. Liked the attention. More times than not, it was easy to go along with the rest. I like sex, but after I got sober, I stopped having it so much because I didn’t like how it made me feel after. Hell, even with the drug haze, the after still usually sucked, but I don’t get that with you.”
“Good.” I held both of his shoulders. “I don’t want you going along with anything either.”
“Trust me. I want this. Want you.” He smiled seductively, but my mind was still churning. I hated that he’d had so many negative experiences. Maybe it had been consensual, but even in my tiny pool of experience, I understood that sex wasn’t supposed to make you feel like shit. I would have given a whole stack of medals to take those memories from him, make him feel better.
“Maybe…”
“What?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Nothing. Just a silly idea. You could pretend.”
“Pretend?” Head tilting, he considered me, and my neck heated from the force of his stare.
“You’re the one with the good imagination. But, like, you could pretend it’s new for you. Like it’s the first time for both of us.”
“Oh.” He pursed his lips, and I was just about to take back my ridiculous idea when he exhaled roughly. Reaching out, he touched my beard with shaking fingers. “I want that.”
Chapter Twenty
Danny
Cash was a gift. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t see it that way. He didn’t value himself nearly enough. But my whole sexual experience up until Cash kissed me the night before was this huge divide between what I wanted sex to be and what it actually was. And now Cash was saying that not only did it not have to be like that, but that I could let go of those negative experiences and the regrets I carried with me over decisions I’d made while high.
I’d still have regrets, of course. But for a little while, I could simply set those feelings aside and pretend, exactly like I’d wanted to do all day. Forget about stalkers and danger. Pretend this was my boyfriend and this was our cabin, and anything that had come before simply didn’t matter.
“I’m nervous,” I said, not play-acting a bit. “I don’t want to screw this up for you.”
“You couldn’t.” And then he was tumbling backward on the bed, taking me with him so we were stretched out on our backs. And man, this bed had seemed so much bigger with only me in it. “Come here.”
Rolling onto his side to meet me halfway, Cash kissed me with infinite tenderness. My ribs ached with how damn sweet he was. His beard was soft against my fingertips but not as soft as his lips. He kissed with his eyes closed like he was intent on absorbing every last detail about the kiss, which went on and on. Earlier, I’d been impatient, wanting to rush to the good stuff, but this, this was the good stuff.
Each kiss was better than the last. I let my hands rove from his face to his neck and shoulders, those gorgeous massive arms of his. I loved his tattoos, the way they spoke to honor and sacrifice and pride. He was right. Being a SEAL was in his blood, inked right on his skin. Thinking of him in danger was terrifying, but so was thinking of him any way other than exactly how he was.