“Irish. I’m half and half.”
He set a plate down in front of me.
“But I don’t know shit about cooking Irish food. Nana’s second-generation Italian.”
“She taught you how to cook?”
He nodded. The man could cook, ride, he was a wizard with a tattoo gun, and he hadn’t pressured me for sex. He’d let me sleep. I looked away, not sure how I felt about any of this.
That will teach you to judge a book by its cover, Mols.
He ran his hand through his hair and then laid it on the table. I stared at his inked knuckles. His chest was still bare and his gaze was too direct.
“When can I see you again?”
“You’re seeing me now.”
He made a face.
“I want to see you for more than half an hour at a time.” He took a bite of my food and I stared at his lips as he ate. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I want a whole night.”
I felt my cheeks get hot. He was getting ahead of himself. But was he really? I hadn’t said no to anything he had asked of me. He might be a creep, the kind of guy a girl should avoid, but he could also be the perfect person for a stupid girl who didn’t know any better to lose her virginity to.
Maybe if I had zero expectations . . . maybe I wouldn’t get hurt.
Because it wasn’t like Mr. Tattooed Sex God was going to stick around. Even stupid, inexperienced me knew that.
Besides, I didn’t think I had the strength to say no. I knew I had to try. To stop this thing that had started between us. It wasn’t going to go anywhere, and my brother needed me.
“I don’t know what you want.”
I felt naked, totally exposed when I lifted my eyes to his.
“You. Just you.”
I shook my head and pushed away from the table.
“Look, you’re nice and all but . . .”
“Nice?”
“Well, yeah.”
He stood up, crossing the tiny kitchen in two steps. He stared down at me, not touching me.
“I’m sorry, Callaway. My life is . . . complicated.”
“I can handle it.”
“What for? Why even bother?”
His hands came up to cup my chin, tilting my face so I had no choice but to look into his eyes. His thumb brushed my bottom lip and his eyes stared hungrily at my mouth.
“For this.”
His mouth crashed down on mine. I realized belatedly that his other kisses had been tame. He’d been holding back. This need, this hunger inside him, was far bigger than anything I had ever imagined.
This wasn’t Romeo and Juliet. This was heat, pure white heat and power blazing between us. I could feel it licking my skin as he pushed me against the kitchen wall and tried to melt into me.
My thigh was hoisted up as he worked his hips into me. Our tongues tangled as he held me firmly in place, grinding his erect cock into me through our clothes. Considering this was more than I’d ever done before, I was more than overwhelmed.
I was not ready for this.
I was not ready for him.
“Wait.”
His hand was sliding under my shirt to tug on my bra strap. I whimpered at the feeling of his warm hand as it closed over my breast. My nipple responded immediately, pushing up into a sharp point. It only intensified the feelings that were spiraling through my body.
Too much. Too fast.
“Wait.”
He lifted his head and stared at me, the thick muscle in his jaw ticking.
“You okay?”
I nodded, then shook my head as he started to kiss me again.
“Callaway . . .”
“What?”
“I have to go. My shift.”
He swallowed and nodded jerkily.
“Right. Yeah. Your shift.”
He was staring at my mouth as he moaned.
“You sure you can’t be just a little bit late?”
“No. I can’t.” I sighed. “And I’m not ready for this. For any of it.”
He stepped back, his eyes glued to my face.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Mols.”
When had he started calling me that? That was what my brother called me. And . . . my parents. I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. That was my defense. When everything sucks, pretend like you don’t care. Then go cry your face off when you’re alone.
“I know, I just . . . I don’t really have time to date.”
He stepped forward again, pressing me into the wall.
“We’ll make time.”
I stared up at him, heat swirling in my belly. Then I swallowed.
“You’re a really great guy, Callaway.”
He narrowed those gorgeous green eyes at me.
“Don’t.”
“But I’m not looking for anything.”
“Don’t.”
His voice was raw. Ragged. Painfully exposed.
“I’m sorry. I can’t see you right now.”
He stared at me for a long minute more before turning on his heel and walking away. I flinched when I heard the front door close behind him.
I’d done the responsible thing. The right thing for me and for Tommy.