“What was that?” He asks. But the sparkle of gold in his eyes lets me know that he knows. I squirm in his hands, the thud in my clit reaching detonation.
“Nothing. I just thought I saw a bug.” I pull my lip between my teeth.
“Not a big fan of bugs. Got it!” But his hand hits the spot where my legs meet and I have to gulp in a huge breath. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or not…but he has a little smirk on his lips, a little twist, that tells me he is so doing this on purpose. He wants to see me react and like hell is that going to happen. I’ve got some damn pride…even if the bitch that’s been running my lower regions since I saw him is dancing and fist pumping all over the damn place!
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about anyway. She just knows she wants an orgasm. It’s been a long time. Actually since John left. Because nobody in my home town would touch me. Like I was a bubonic plague victim or something. Like I was not worth the effort, I was damaged goods.
And that hurt. It hurt a lot. I grew up in that town and to be relegated to dust under my friend’s and neighbor’s shoes?
I shake myself out of my reverie. No good will come from dredging up all those feelings. My self-worth already took a hit. I don’t need to keep poking at the wounds.
He carries me inside and sets me down in the foyer which is open to the huge great room. My mouth drops open and I turn in a circle, awe welling up in me. “This place is gorgeous!” So big and open. Golden wood gleams everywhere you look and the room is full of masculine dark blue and chrome accents. They would actually look better in a condo downtown somewhere than they do here but it can’t really take away from the beauty of the room.
I step inside, my eyes caught by one stunning piece after another. A velvety navy checked throw tossed over a dark brown leather couch. A chrome statue of a bear standing on its back legs. Another delicate chrome statue of a beautiful, wild horse running, its ears flattened back, mouth open in a silent scream.
A lamp in the corner of an end table with a navy and lighter blue sueded shade.
It’s so calming that I can feel my heart rate slow and my suspicions settle.
Do I believe he’s a good man because his house is nice? NO! Do I believe that I’m not about to be murdered in the living room? Maybe. Only time will tell on that one.
“Well, what do you think?” he asks.
I study him, my eyes narrowed. He’s calm, composed. Mostly. I see his hands fidgeting slightly and his foot taps lightly. Like this means more to him than he’s letting on. Like he’s nervous.
“Your home is beautiful. Did you have a designer do it?” The question seems innocent but its not. If he had someone do this, it means nothing. If he did even part of it…then it says something about him as a man. I’m just not sure what.
He nods his head, his big hands tunneling through his dark hair. “I had a designer, yes, but I actually picked all of the knick knacks out and the fabrics. So some of this is my choice.”
“Mmmhmmm.”
He grins. “It feels later today than it actually is and you look exhausted. Would you like me to show you to your room?”
I cock my head at him. “I have my own room?”
“Of course. Just because I want to…well, I want to have children and normal marital relations, that doesn’t mean that I don’t think you’ll want your own space. This will be an adjustment for all of us, I’m sure.”
Nodding slowly, I eye him warily. “It doesn’t lock from the outside does it?”
“Humph!” He snort-laughs, making a laugh struggle up my own throat. “Wow! You really just don’t trust me, do you?” He steps closer and I back up, matching him step for step until I’m leaning against the wooden walls and he’s hovering over me, a dark shadow across his carved-from-granite features. “Or maybe it’s all men in general,” he whispers and his fingers delicately trace my cheekbone, making my body liquify. I want to melt into his touch, feel him trace all of my body. Give myself up to that throbbing passion that I can feel humming along between us like a live wire.
But another part of me struggles against those bonds. Feels trapped and anxious. Needing escape. Needing to breathe even as I pant out shallow breaths in front of him.
He nods his dark head and backs away, putting his hands in his pocket. “I’ll show you to your room for the night.” I head for the door to grab my suitcases and he catches my arm. My eyes fly to his and I’m trapped in the liquid honey of his gaze. Like deep, dark amber.
“I’ll bring your bags, baby doll. You just worry about yourself.”
I nod my head. That I can do. “I can get my own bags, you know.”
“I’m aware.” He grins cheekily and I feel my belly flop when I see he has a dimple in his left cheek. I want to run my finger across it, dip my fingernail in it. Lick it like a freaking popsicle.
But I turn away, struggling to keep my insane feelings under control. I just met this man. Sure, we’ve talked for months now. But I still don’t know him that well.
You will tomorrow! My inner minx rejoices.
“I will let you take care of that then.” And then maybe I can get my inner crazy woman to keep herself under control.
“I’ll show you upstairs and then get your bags. That way you can get your bearings in your new home.”