Since he doesn’t seem to be moving from what is technically my spot, I have to crawl over him to get to the other side. His big hands graze the sides of my body before finding my hips. When I’m practically straddling him, he holds me firmly in place so I can’t move.
“Is that what you want, Ivy?” His words are decidedly husky and my belly hollows out in response. “Romance?”
My mouth instantly dries at the notion. There’s no way in hell I’d ever be able to resist him if he were to turn on that kind of charm. I would be putty in his hands. Even though it’s dark, his turquoise eyes are still piercing. They skewer me in place, making it difficult to breathe.
When I don’t say anything in response, his grip finally slackens, allowing me to scamper over him to the other side. Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure how to position myself. My bed is a double and when I’m in it all by myself, it’s plenty big. With Roan filling it, it feels teeny tiny.
So I scooch over as far as I can. Just as I get settled so that no part of me is touching him, and I’m all but pressed up against the wall, Roan slides an arm around my body before hauling me against him and holding me there.
After a few moments, he whispers, “Relax.”
“I’m totally relaxed,” I squeak, feeling anything but. My body is as rigid as a two by four.
“Yeah, you feel completely relaxed,” he chuckles, “I came here to talk. Nothing more. Okay?”
Hearing those words has my stiff-as-a-board body slowly unlocking before cautiously molding itself to his muscular frame. After a few minutes of adjustment, I find myself turned completely towards him, aligned with every hard part of his body. With his arm still wrapped around me, my head slowly lowers to rest against the solidness of chest. Releasing a slow breath, my hand finally settles over his heart.
“Comfortable?” Again there’s a huskiness woven through the melodic tone of his voice that has something hot sliding its way through me.
“Yeah.” I’m so relaxed I probably won’t want to move ever again. He feels so damn good. I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am. Even though I’m all but dying to run my hand over his broad chest and tight abs, I don’t. It’s been a really long time since I’ve been this close to someone. And I miss it. Miss the intimacy of it.
“Good.” He pauses before adding quietly, “Thanks for inviting me over.”
Even though darkness swirls around us making it hard to see, I can’t help but glance up at his face trying to read his expression. He tips it down towards me. “You were really quiet on the ride home. I was worried,” I finally admit.
Turning his face from mine, he stares up at the ceiling for a long moment before saying, “Yeah. Sorry about laying all that on you.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” I’m not going to lie, I like that he trusts me enough to share the private details of his life with me. I get the feeling he doesn’t trust many people and I’m absurdly flattered that, for some reason, I’m one of them.
He doesn’t immediately fill the silence between us but that doesn’t matter. What we have right now feels easy and comfortable.
“I like you, Ivy.”
His words have my breath hitching and my heart pounding. It’s thickly that I whisper, “I… I like you, too.”
After another quiet moment, he admits, “I feel like I can actually talk to you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’ll keep your secrets.” Saying the words out loud feels important. Necessary. I’ve learned things about Roan tonight that no one else knows and I would never betray that trust. No matter what happens between us. Whether we stay friends or we become more. Or we stop talking altogether. I won’t betray him. That’s not who I am and I’m really hoping he realizes that.
Slowly he tilts his head towards me and even though I can’t see his eyes very well, I know they’re trained on me. I feel the burning intensity of them. “I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t know that.”
Something feeling suspiciously close to happiness bursts within me like an overinflated balloon.
His arm tightens, pulling me just a bit closer to his muscular body. “You know,” he finally whispers, “I’ve never done this before.”
Unsure what he means by the comment, I ask, “Done what?”
“Cuddled in bed with someone and just talked.”
I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. He might’ve had sex with a ton of girls but that’s not really being intimate. Lying in bed with someone, opening up, sharing the pieces of yourself that actually matter, that’s true intimacy. Screwing someone is just that… screwing.