Slow like the brush of his thumbs along my inner thighs.

Slow like the need building between my legs.

Maybe he’s gone a decade without having sex, but these full lips of his sure do know how to kiss. I should be better at this … less nervous. Yet, I’m not. He shows no lack of confidence.

I’m a hot mess.

Insecurities make a single file line at the door to my conscience, each with a case to plead. The last time I had sex, my body was better, my confidence less wavering, my direction clearer. Even without opening the door, I can hear the chattering insecurities.

More cellulite.

Less perky breasts.

Emerging red dots along my chest—cherry angiomas according to the internet.

My ass isn’t as firm.

I have pubic hair that’s fairly maintained, but I’m not sure it’s groomed into the right configuration. Maybe Nate prefers no pubic hair. Well, he’s in for a surprise.

Does he have pubic hair? Michael always shaved his area.

Did he bring over a condom?

Does he assume I’m on the pill? I’m not.

Do I worry about STDs with a man who hasn’t had sex in over a decade?

Will we have sex right here?

I didn’t make my bed this morning.

Surely he won’t think we can resume on the toenail-infested sofa.

Maybe we’ll lose our pants right here and just go to town. That’s what Jamie and Claire do on Outlander.

It’s pretty hot.

Anal … oh god … what if he’s into anal. I read that it’s quite common. I don’t have lube. I assume I would need to douche, but I have not douched that hole. Actually, I haven’t douched the other hole either. My doctor recommends against it.

I pull away, breathless and burning up. It’s not my typical, premenopausal hot flash. It’s a Nate-induced one. “My brain is ready to explode.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Are you overthinking this?”

“No.” I rub my lips together. “Yes.” I drop my chin and shake my head. “Five minutes ago, I overthought it. Now, I’m just in crazy town.”

“We can talk about it.”

“No … god no.” I laugh as more heat pools in my cheeks.

“There’s nothing to worry about. You promised to not fall in love with me. I’m going to return the favor. If we become good friends, we can be pen pals when I leave. Morgan and I have lots of pen pals around the world.”

He bought condoms … and now he’s suggesting we be pen pals?

I’m thinking about the hairstyle of my muff, and he’s thinking about stationary and stamps. This gap might be too wide to bridge.

“Wow …” I trace the logo on his T-shirt with my finger. “If that kiss didn’t make us friends, I fear making it on your pen pal list might be an impossible feat.”

He wraps his hand around mine, bringing my tracing finger to his lips and giving it a soft kiss. “I fear the haircut fiasco momentarily derailed our friendship.”

God … he’s so sexy. Not Jamie sexy. Nathaniel Hunt brings his own brand of sexy, and I’m completely bewitched.

Six weeks.

I can do six weeks.

Bewitched doesn’t have to lead to love. Kissing my neighbor doesn’t break my man ban if we’re not technically even friends.

Letting him keep my left hand next to his lips, I comb my right hand through his tragically short hair. “Would showing you my other tattoos put me back in the friendship zone?”

He perks an eyebrow. “I’m inclined to say yes.”

“Okay.”

He releases my hand and takes a step backward. I slide up my shirt, keeping my braless breasts covered while showing him the tattoo two inches beneath my armpit (usually covered by a bra).

“It’s a stemmed cherry.” He chuckles. “Is your third tattoo a halved avocado on your ass? Or is it a salted pretzel?”

“No.” I grin, pushing my tank top down.

He crosses his arms over his chest. Nate in a fitted tee with gray cargo shorts that hang perfectly from his narrow hips does it for me. He does it for me.

“Why a stemmed cherry?”

“I like them.”

He rolls his lips together. “I see. You’re going to need to elaborate.”

“I was twenty when I got them. When you’re twenty, liking cherries is a solid reason to get a tattoo of one.”

“Fine. I’ll buy it. Looks like we’re one tattoo away from the friend zone.”

“I fear you’re going to be disappointed. I had to balance things out.” I lift my shirt on the other side—same area below my armpit.

Nate’s smile does funny things to my stomach and makes my heart race in my chest. When he laughs, I want to kiss his lips again, call it our first kiss, and promise a million more before he leaves in six weeks.

“Let me guess … you like elephants.”

“Very much. Maybe even more than cherries.”

He runs his finger over my three simple elephants. Small. Medium. Large. Even the large one isn’t very big. They’re interlocked—tail to trunk. And they hide nicely under my bra when I’m wearing one.

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Transcend Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net