Pause by Kylie Scott

CHAPTER SIX

Day one of being a single woman goes like this. My head hurts and my mouth feels like death and my cell won’t stop buzzing. It’s so bad that it wakes up Leif, who’s lying beside me. This is due to drunken late-night discussions that resulted in us both passing out on my bed.

We didn’t mean to sleep together, it just happened. But nothing actually happened other than sleep.

“Make it stop,” he mumbles, face embedded in a white Egyptian cotton pillow with a subtle decorative edging. One of my favorite sets. I choose not to care that they were an engagement gift. If I start letting the existence of Ryan and memories made with him define the value of my belongings then I’ll be down to owning nothing. He got years of my life. He doesn’t get to take another thing from me.

Meanwhile, Leif is not a morning person at the best of times and multiple bottles of champagne the night before can’t be helping. In fact, I’m kind of amazed he’s still beside me on the bed. I figured for sure he’d have been unable to sleep with someone nearby and have snuck out at some stage while I snored the passed-out drunken song of my people. But here he is. Amazing.

I reach over him to grab my cell off the bedside table. “Oh, God.”

“What?”

“Not only have we slept half the day away, but my mother is inundating me with pictures and contact details of assorted single men in the area.”

He opens one eye. “Already?”

“Yes. God help me,” I say. “She’s recommending that I try before I buy with a winking emoji. This is horrifying. What the hell has gotten into her?”

“What would her friends at church say about that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to know. Part of me worries they put her up to it. That’s an even more horrifying thought.”

With much grumbling and groaning, Leif rolls onto his back. He’s still in his faded black tee and blue jeans from last night. I’m still in my evening gown. When his gaze flicks over my chest region, I do a quick check to ensure the girls are covered. God bless double-sided tape. All necessities remain hidden. No such luck for my bird’s nest of a hairdo. And the intimacy of waking up beside him is . . . a lot. But I can ignore that. No problem.

“Does Denise actually believe that you’re going to rush out and get remarried without checking the fit first?” he asks, smothering a yawn.

“Checking the fit.” I grin. “I’ve never heard it described that way. I don’t know. Maybe she has doubts as to my ability to both find and go on a date. Perhaps she’s gotten the hots for the idea of having grandkids. I don’t know. Considering she didn’t even like spending time with me when I was a child, I don’t see how this is going to work.” I scroll through the unending messages. Mom’s dedication sure is something. Something scary. “Oh. This one’s a dentist. Score.”

“Think of all those free fillings.”

I snort. Talk about a meeting of dirty minds.

“May I?” asks Leif, holding out his hand.

I pass over my cell.

“Hold up. I know him,” he mumbles.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s got this amazing full-color serpent tattooed on his genitals. Hours of work, that.”

“What?” I ask. “He has not. You’re making that up.”

“It’s true. Ed did it himself,” he says. “Got to hand it to your dentist, that sort of thing requires dedication. Especially getting your balls tattooed, you know? That’s some sensitive skin. And so soft and wrinkly. Requires very careful handling. Don’t even ask me about the amount of waxing you’d need to get done beforehand. Ouch.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Of course I’m lying.” He laughs. “Rest assured, I have no idea what, if anything, is on your dentist’s dick. And even if I did, I’d be bound by professional confidentiality to never tell. But the fascination warring with distaste in your expression is fun to see, though.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” I say as I start typing out a text.

Me:Mother. No.

Mom:What do you mean?

Mom:I’m just trying to be supportive.

Me: Supportive is baking me a cake or buying me a bottle of wine. Saying something kind. Supportive is not hunting upa bang for me the day after my divorce is finalized.

Mom:I’m just interested in your life.

Me:Be interested in my life out of the bedroom. Much less awkward.

Mom:Sex is a perfectly natural thing. Leif is right. You’re so judgy.

“You told my mom I was judgy?” I ask, ever so slightly cranky. Or hung over. Possibly both.

“I need coffee,” he says, sitting up and stretching. The way his biceps bulge during this process is frankly fascinating.

“I can’t believe you said that to her.”

He sighs. “Anna, I asked Denise where she thought you got your judgmental tendencies from. It was meant to be a joke, but I see the error of my ways now.”

“You need to stop talking to my mom.”

“No. I like Denise. She’s funny.”

“Yeah? Are you laughing with her or at her?”

“Now that hurts my feelings.”

“I am perhaps somewhat overly defensive on this front. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted. I’m laughing with her. That woman knows herself well. More than you give her credit for,” he says. “And she doesn’t take herself too seriously, either.”

“Hmm.”

“You have mommy issues,” he says in a rough morning voice. “Fuck, my head hurts. Champagne is lethal.”

“Yeah.”

“No, really. I hurt in the weirdest places.”

“Curtail your man pain. We’re all suffering here,” I say with a groan. “And I don’t have mommy issues. Just some concerns about becoming her mixed with an innate fear of disappointing her brought on by being largely ignored throughout my childhood.”

“Like I said. Mommy issues.”

“Go make me coffee. Please. Pretty please?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He heads for the door, but stops halfway. “I slept beside you.”

I just smile.

“All night.”

“Just figuring that out, huh?” I ask.

He scratches his head, his hair sticking out in every which direction. The difference between me and him is that he makes mornings look good. “Anna, I . . . wow. Wasn’t actually sure that was possible anymore after Shannon and everything. But I didn’t have a nightmare for once. Between you, the champagne, and your fancy bed linen, I actually spent an entire night asleep.”

“You’re going to be fine, Leif. You really are.”

He frowns.

“She hurt you, but she didn’t break you. And everything that happened is on her,” I say, putting my heart and soul into the words. “You’re a good person. One of the best people I’ve ever met. Be kind to yourself, Leif, and don’t carry that around any longer. It’s not your burden because you didn’t do anything wrong. Let it go.”

“Maybe.”

“You can do better than that,” I urge.

He gives himself a little shake. “Ugh. Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“I know I am. And it doesn’t happen very often, so I really need to seize the moments when it does. Now go make me coffee.”

“On it!”

I hope he’s okay. He seems okay. People can do a hell of a lot of damage, intentional or otherwise. And the trauma Leif has been through is extreme. Speaking of which, this morning’s domestic scene warms my wounded heart through and through. Though divorce hasn’t left me as jaded and bitter as I’d expected. I actually feel okay about life and love. Hopeful, even. How could I not after spending the night dancing and drinking followed by waking up next to the object of my affections? So getting over my crush on Leif has been on my to-do list for a while now. Oh well.

Two Advil and a long hot shower fixes the bulk of my issues. My face is a smudged mess from sleeping in my makeup and I have a small zit on my chin. I really should know better. However, the divorce party was a great success. Everything is good. Right up until I walk out to find Leif hugging another woman in the kitchen.

Holy shit.

A beautiful woman with russet skin and long dark hair. She’s like a piece of art with her heavy silver jewelry and red sheath dress. In my old jeans and a tee with my wet hair pulled back in a braid, I do not compare. And that’s not just any old hug they’re sharing. This isn’t some brief pat on the back and you’re good to go. They’re so comfortable with each other’s bodies. Because they’re all but clinging to each other like the oldest and closest of friends or quite possibly a good deal more. It’s a soul hug and I am left out in the cold. Here I thought it was me in particular who he liked hugging. But apparently the man is an equal opportunity hugger. Any girl will do.

I could swear someone just kicked me in the stomach.

Leif must sense me standing there staring because he opens his eyes and takes a small step back from the woman with an off-kilter kind of smile on his face. This is weird. I’m making this weird. Whatever expression is on my face right now needs to go. He was never mine and I have no right. I’m just surprised, is all. Really fucking surprised and kind of heartbroken.

“Anna,” he says. “Hey, ah, this is Roshuane. An old friend of mine. Roshuane, this is my roommate, Anna.”

And that’s all we are. Roommates. Foolish of me not to get that through my thick skull by now.

The beautiful woman smiles and oh my God. I’m half in love with her myself. With jealousy slowly draining me of my will to live, I raise my hand in greeting. “Hi.”

“Lovely to meet you, Anna,” she says, her voice brimming with warmth. Because she has to be nice as well, doesn’t she?

“Roshuane just got back in town,” says Leif.

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” And at this, she gives him a look that cannot be mistaken for anything but blatant carnal interest. Not that I blame her in the least. I harbor many of the same feelings for the man, after all.

Leif looks between his guest and me. The expression on his face seems to be on the verge of a smile, but again he’s not quite sure if he should. He’s allowed to be happy to see his friend and have sex with her if he so chooses. I’m just his roommate, after all.

“I’m heading out,” I say, grabbing my purse off the side table. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Nice to meet you, Roshuane.”

“Anna . . .” Leif begins, but doesn’t seem to know what to say for a minute. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great,” I lie with a smile. “See you later.”

And I’m gone.

“Oh, yeah. They used to fuck like bunnies,” confirms Clem. “We actually had to bang on the wall one night they were getting so loud.”

Tessa squeezes her eyelids shut for a second. “Try some tact, yeah?”

I drain my cup of coffee. There’s not enough caffeine in all of the world to get me through today. I’m just a big ball of hurt feelings. Along with a healthy dash of foolishness, of course.

The plan was to hide out for a few hours somewhere nearby. Call Briar and whine a while. Possibly retreat to the fallback position of my parents’ house if necessary. But then I walked into a local café and Tessa, her partner Nevin, and their baby were there finishing brunch. After one look at my face, Tessa took me in hand. Apparently my fake smile sucks. Clementine was then summoned by text, and now here we are ensconced at a local bar. Just us girls.

“What?” asks Clem.

Tessa jerks her chin in my direction. “Anna has feelings for him. It’s why I told you to get your ass down here.”

I say nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

“You do? Shit,” mutters Clem. “Sorry. It’s funny. I wondered if there was something going on. But then you and he seemed to be all platonic and roommate-y, so I figured I was wrong.”

“Platonic and roommate-y would have been the sensible option,” I say, voice glum.

Tessa snorts. “Whoever said the heart was sensible?”

“That’s true,” says Clem. “Ed disliked me with much intensity, and with good reason, but I still stuck to the man like a tick. Couldn’t help myself. I say hang in there, Anna. You’re the only woman I’ve seen Leif spend quality time with since the accident. That has to mean something.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Well, yes, but it means we’re friends. That’s all. And I need to make peace with that because there’s nothing wrong with being friends. I just have a bad habit of growing feelings for this guy and . . . gah.”

“Do you know for sure Leif’s not interested?” asks Tessa.

“Besides his sex friend showing up?” I ask.

“Besides that.”

“Yes,” I say. Because it’s the truth. When I tried to kiss him he let me down as gently as possible. But it was still a rejection.

She frowns. “Damn.”

“Never mind.” I square my shoulders. “I have a part-time job that I enjoy. A nice condo that I share with a good friend. Lots of love and support. Life is good.”

“Oh, by the way,” says Tessa. “The accountant asked Ed to say thank you for getting the files up to date. Ed might forget, so this is me filling in on that front. We all hate doing admin work, so you’re a godsend.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“And we like you as a person,” adds Clem.

“That’s true,” says Tessa with nil hesitation. “And we don’t actually like many people.”

Clem nods. “That’s true. We’re picky when it comes to people.”

Oh my heart. I am being embraced by a new sisterhood and it’s beautiful. “Thank you. I like you guys too. I really do.”

“Goodness sake, don’t cry.” Tessa passes me a napkin. “We didn’t tell you that to upset you.”

“I know,” I say. “I just . . .”

“You’ve been through a lot,” finishes Clem for me.

“After that woman turning up at work the other day, I’m not really surprised you’re a bit emotional.” Tessa tosses her hair. I wish I were that cool. “But it’s okay, Anna. Things are going to get better for you.”

“I believe that,” I say. “I do.”

“Good.”

“You’ve come a long way,” says Clem with a gentle smile. She’s been there too. Having to rebuild her existence from the ground up.

“I’m happy with how things are going.” And it’s the truth. “Thank you for hanging out with me today and getting me over my idiocy.”

“I’m still not completely convinced it’s idiocy,” says Clem.

“No. It is. I’m too old for this unrequited bullshit. I should know better.”

“You’re single and human.” Clem picks up a French fry and waves it about with much meaning. “You’re still breathing. Why shouldn’t you have many and varied hopes and dreams?”

“Hmm.”

“You mean because of the divorce?” asks Tessa.

I nod. “There should be a compulsory waiting period before you can get all attached and lusty after a major breakup. A deep cleansing period. Like an enema for the emotions.”

Clem laughs. “That doesn’t sound extreme at all.”

“I repeat, the heart is not sensible,” says Tessa.

“But maybe you can train it to be.” I ponder the thought. “I have a plan. I’m going to avoid him for a few days until I’ve got myself back under control, then carry on as if this never happened.”

Tessa just stares. “That’s your plan, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Does denial and avoidance really work, though?” asks Clem.

“Not even a little.” Tessa steals a fry. “But best of luck to you, girl.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

It’s around midnight when I sneak into the condo. Mom and Dad were surprised but happy to see me. Dad even managed to make conversation with me regarding subjects other than the sad demise of my marriage to his best buddy Ryan. And thank God for that. I also spent quality time talking to Briar and dissecting her new relationship with a hot dude who tends bar at her favorite club. All in all, a highly successful day out and about. A day that largely did not involve Leif. Go, me.

The condo is in darkness, everything quiet. I don’t turn on a light and I don’t make a sound. Mostly. Leif and his lady friend are probably in bed. Or maybe they’re out partying. Living their best lives. Who knows? Not me. Either way, I’m getting to bed without any more weird confrontations. And anyway, it doesn’t even matter. That’s the truth of things. I have made peace with my situation. We’re friends and that’s all. My confused heart can just stop making bad choices. I am moving on with my life.

I slip off my flats at the door and feel my way carefully forward. The night is so still I can hear the soft hum of music coming from one of our neighbors upstairs. Something bluesy. From the window comes the faint glow of streetlights and there’s the shadow of a tree limb shifting gently on the wall. Truth is, I could have been a super spy. A secret agent or something. My careful quiet progress into the condo is going so damn well. My hand is extended, reaching for the back of the couch, which absolutely has to be there. Or at least very close. Only my hand is too high and I find it care of my bare foot slamming into the couch foot with much damn oomph.

“Fuck,” I gasp.

Pain shoots up my leg and holy hell. This hurts. One of the overhead lights turns on and there is Leif, leaning against the wall in the opening of the hallway. He does not look amused. Given I’m the one who almost just broke a toe, I have no idea what he’s got to be grumpy about.

I hop around to the other side of the couch and sit down. Oh my poor, innocent pinkie toe. I feel so bad for me. “Shit, shit, shit. Did I wake you?”

“No,” he says, crossing his arms. “I couldn’t sleep.”

My stomach drops. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I was waiting up for you.”

“Oh.”

With a sigh, he heads for the fridge, making up an impromptu ice pack with a kitchen towel and a bundle of the cold stuff for me. The sound of the ice hitting the countertop is startlingly loud in the silence. Then he kneels at my feet, frowning at my injury. Carefully, the ice pack is held against my wounded toe. He’s in his sleep pants again. No tee. Far too much skin for my peace of mind. There’s no call for him to be flaunting his nipples and pecs in the privacy of his own home. Talk about disgusting.

“Why didn’t you just turn on a light when you came in?” he asks.

“I was trying not to disturb you. Did you have a nice day with your friend?” I ask, playing it cool. All puns intended.

“We had lunch,” he says.

“Mm.”

Therein follows a couple of awkward moments wherein he stares at my foot and I stare at anything that isn’t him. Or at least try to. My fascination with the man is hard to figure. Rational thought dictates that I should be burnt out from my divorce and in need/want of time and space. And yet the one thing I feel like I might actually need/want is him. Which is terrifying. The timing of this crush is just awful in all the ways. But grown-ass women can control their emotions and behavior. At least I hope I can.

“Why were you waiting up for me?” I ask at last.

“Things felt off this morning.” His voice is low and gravelly. “Thought we could talk about it.”

“What?” I scoff. “No.”

His brow goes up. “Is that you denying things were weird, or refusing to discuss them with me?”

“Both.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. Dammit.

“Anna.” He shakes his head. “I thought we were past this.”

“Past what?”

“You running away when things get tough,” he says, resting back on his haunches. “Trust and understanding, remember?”

I have nothing.

“Bestie, buddy, roommate . . .”

At this, I flinch. I can’t help it. The R word is killing me. I’m the worst friend ever.

“Okay,” he says. As if something’s been decided. “Thing is, I didn’t know Roshuane was stopping by and I—”

“You’re allowed to have people over whenever you want. It’s none of my business.”

“Let me finish,” he says, taking a deep breath. “We used to be involved, but things are different now. My interests currently lie elsewhere. So we went and had a nice lunch and we’re probably going to catch up in a couple of weeks’ time for a drink or something. That’s it.”

And I sit there frozen. “That’s your private business. You didn’t need to tell me all that.”

“Do you feel better for me having told you all that?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“There you go then.” With another sigh, he sets the ice pack aside and joins me on the sofa. “I think you need to do the thing we talked about you doing a while back.”

I draw my brows together. “What? What thing?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

Yet another sigh. Never has a man been more put upon. Just ask him. “How’s your toe?”

“Sore.”

“You think it might be broken? Want me to take you to a medical center to get it checked?”

I think it over, carefully moving the appendage. “No. It’s probably just a sprain or something. I don’t think there’s much they can do about toes. I’ll see how it is tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Do you want me to move out?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“What? No. Of course not.”

My shoulders slump. “Oh.”

He shakes his head, a half smile curling one corner of his lips. “Anna. Baby. At least I’ll never have to wonder what you’re thinking. It’s all written right there on your face. You’re the least mysterious woman I’ve ever met.”

“I am too mysterious.”

“No,” he says in a definitive voice. “And I can’t tell you what a fucking relief that is. Every woman I’ve ever known has pretty much had me in a constant state of confusion. But not you.”

“I’m not sure this is a compliment.”

“With you, it’s more like a semi-constant state.” He tucks his hands behind his head and relaxes back against them. “A now-and-then sort of thing instead of an endless everyday ‘what the fuck does she mean and why the hell is she mad at me now?’ I actually have a fighting chance at figuring shit out with you. It’s a hell of a thing.”

“You’re rambling. What were we talking about before?”

“I was referring to that time you hit on me.”

I freeze.

“You remember.”

Give me strength.“I could hardly forget.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, as if it makes everything better. “You were drunk and horny and dealing with a lot. Like, more than most people ever have to deal with in a lifetime. I thought you did quite well keeping your shit together.”

“Thanks,” I say drily.

“We all makes mistakes now and then.”

“Great.”

“And if we’d gotten involved then, it would have been a mistake.” He stares off at nothing, pondering this for a moment. “A big mistake.”

I slide down. I’d disappear if I could. “Right.”

“Huge, even.”

“You’re doing absolutely nothing for my ego.”

“Huh? Oh. Hang in there.” He pats me on the knee and then goes so far as to leave his hand there lingering for a moment. “The point I’m trying to make, Anna, is that that was then and this is now.”

“So?”

“So you should try again,” he announces with a smile.

“What?”

“Try again,” he encourages. “Come on to me.”

I wrinkle my nose in his general direction. He cannot be saying what I think he’s saying. Impossible.

“I told you at the time if you were still interested to proposition me again in a couple of months,” he says, holding his palms out in front of him. “Here we are. Why not give it a go?”

“Because you rejected me?”

“Yeah, but I explained that.”

“Leif,” I say, pausing to take a breath. “You’re offering yourself up here like some game of chance. The only thing is, when I lose at this game it’s not only humiliating, but it hurts.”

“Anna.” His gaze softens. Something about the way he says my name turns me into goo. This man . . . holy hell. “We didn’t talk about it before you tried to kiss me last time so there wasn’t much I could do. But this time, we’ve already got all of our talking out of the way. Do you really think I’d set you up to fail?”

I don’t know what to say. He’s dead serious. And all of a sudden my heart is hammering inside my chest.

“The look on your face this morning killed me,” he says. “But there was no way I was ever going to restart something with Roshuane while there’s something happening between me and you.”

“You’re interested in me?” And I sound so small and fragile. I hate it, but I can’t help it.

“Have I not been chasing your gorgeous ass around for months now?”

I frown. “Have you?”

His brows rise. “Well, I have for me.”

“Huh.”

“Are you coming over here or what?” he asks. “I feel like we need to hug it out. And stuff.”

“And stuff?”

He tips his chin. “C’mon, Anna. Take a chance. I won’t let you fall.”

Never has covering a couple of feet worth of couch been so fraught with danger. So loaded with meaning. Not that I have any real clue what any of this means. Nor am I going to stop to think about it right now. I can overthink things later at my leisure. Right now, I’m a great big freaked-out ball of nerves with a throbbing toe. A hug from Leif sounds wonderful. I no sooner rise up on one knee than he’s grabbed me by the waist and dragged me onto his lap. Only we’re chest to chest this time. I’m sitting straddling his body and what a body it is. His arms wrap around me and I rest my cheek on his shoulder. My breasts press against his firm chest and I’m not going to cry because that would be weird. It just feels like coming home. It’s also just been a big day. A big couple of days. A big year.

“This is better,” he says, letting out a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

So much bare skin it’s going to my head. If only I could will my tee and bra out of existence so that there’s nothing between us. That would be sublime. He’s so big and brawny and beautiful with his muscles and tattoos. With the way he’s so totally at ease with himself. Meanwhile, I’m not sure where to put my hands first. Where I’m allowed to touch and what I’m allowed do now that the rules between us are changing so fast.

His head rests against mine and we just cling to each other for a moment. A long moment. I’d crawl under his skin and make myself at home if I could. After all of the uncertainty, it’s good to be this close. Like we’re melting into each other. Like nothing could ever come between us. This hug is everything. Right up until I feel his fingers creeping under the hem of my tee and up my back. The rough skin on the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth across my skin gives me goose bumps. All of the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The man is electric.

“I thought I was meant to be making the move,” I mumble.

“You took too long.” He rubs his nose against my hair, even pausing to sniff. Whatever turns him on. “Figured you needed some encouragement.”

Which is about when his fingers reverse direction and dip below the back of my jeans to trace the waistband of my panties. Plain sensible white cotton, but you can’t have everything. What’s really nice, or indeed, exciting, about all of this is the feel of him starting to harden against me. Someone other than my ex wants to sleep with me and the accident hasn’t stolen my feminine allure. My elusive girl power. Amazing. Two stupid concerns crossed off the list. This is all doing my confidence untold amounts of good.

“You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable or anything?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Your toe’s okay?” he continues. “Your muscles aren’t cramping or sore?”

“All good.”

With one hand wrapped around the back of his neck in case he tries to escape or something, I nuzzle my way up to his ear. What a thing of pleasure he is. There’s a musky male scent to him that’s high inducing. Since he’s made no attempts to throw me off, I let go of my hold on his neck and experiment with running my fingers over his stubble. Then there’s the thickness of his shoulders and the swell of his pecs, his sensitive flat nipples all just waiting to be caressed. I could pet him for hours. And I just might.

Meanwhile, his fingers are gripping the tops of my ass cheeks, encouraging me to press against him. Encouraging me to grind myself against him. I haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time and it’s a dizzying good thing.

He turns his head, his lips pressing against my forehead. Such a sweet man. “I usually have more control than this.”

“It’s fine.”

I thread my hands through his hair, testing the silken strands. He’s a dichotomy of sensations. Soft hair and hard muscles. Rough stubble and smooth lips. I rub my thumb over his bottom lip and he fakes taking a bite. This time at least. The heat in his gaze makes me think he enjoys this sort of thing. Playing a little rough. Sounds like fun to me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Good and sure along with a little annoyed now, actually. “Am I doing anything to make you think otherwise?”

“No, I just—”

“I’m not fragile, Leif. You’re not going to accidentally break me or something.”

He just blinks. “Well, baby, to be honest . . . I’d bend you over the nearest table and fuck you hard except I was trying to take shit slow and be romantic since this is our first time and all. Maybe you just want a make-out session and that’s fine with me. I’m happy just to have my hands on you, so it’s your call.”

“That so?”

“Yep.”

Which is about when I grab his gorgeous face and kiss him like my life depends on it. Because in that moment it sort of does. I am not a mess. I am neither a patient nor a problem. Hell no. I am the woman who is going to shake him up some. Strong arms band around me, holding on tight, while our mouths fight for dominance. My tongue tangles with his and I take his breath into me. He tastes of toothpaste and hot man. And Leif doesn’t hold back in the least.

Any curiosity regarding the size of his dick is also fast being sated. There’s no doubting the heat and hardness pressing into me. Sleeping pants don’t leave much to the imagination, bless them.

Hair mussed by my hands and lips swollen by our kiss, he damn near takes my breath away with his beauty. I want to write him bad poetry and hang his picture on my bedroom wall. Do all of the things with him and for him. It’s scary to feel so much so fast.

“I want to say something clever and charming, but I’ve got nothing,” he says as his mouth grazes along my jawline.

“No?”

“You’re real pretty,” he murmurs in a rough voice.

“Thank you. So are you.”

Everything low in my belly is honed in on the feel of him against me. The way we fit together just so. My panties are wet, my pussy swollen. And we’ve barely gotten started. At some stage, he’s slipped a hand up the front of my shirt. I don’t recall when. Clever fingers ease my bra cup out of the way. He takes one breast in hand, squeezing and kneading it just so, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the hardening nipple. His other hand rests against my spine, keeping me close, urging me to keep rocking.

This time when he kisses me it’s slow and sure. Teeth nibble on my bottom lip. His tongue flicks against mine with expert precision. It’s deep and thorough, as if he’s learning me. Seducing me even. The happy humming noise he makes sends a thrill straight through me. I trail my hands down his chest, through his scattering of chest hair, over the start of his six-pack, and then over to his sides. Which is where his shoulders hitch up and he stops me with a gasp.

“Don’t,” he says.

“What?”

Nothing from him. But he grips my hands and relocates them to higher ground. Back up on his pecs. The smile he gives me is odd, to say the least.

“I can’t touch you down there?” I ask with a frown. Which is when it occurs to me. “Wait. Are you ticklish?”

“Only a little.”

“On your sides?”

A grunt. “Some.”

“That’s so cute.”

“It’s manly,” he corrects.

“Sure. That too.”

As my fingers start to trail downward again he snaps, “Don’t do it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You forget,” he says, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You are not mysterious. I can read you like a book.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Okay. You’re a little mysterious. But you’re still not tickling me.” He licks his damp lips. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to interrupt proceedings by throwing your fine ass on the bed and conducting vile and twisted experiments to discover your own ticklish spots.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I don’t like being tickled,” I say.

“Then let me suggest an alternative course of events.”

“I’m listening.”

He grabs the hem of my tee, carefully tugging it up and over my head. My bra is as wonky as can be, with one boob proudly on display care of his earlier ministrations. Not a good look. Fortunately for all, Leif has the undergarment gone in no time at all. A useful guy to have around.

“Okay. Here’s the plan,” he says with all due seriousness. Next he stands, taking me with him on account of my arms and legs now being wrapped around him. But we don’t go far. Only into my bedroom, where I’m deposited on the mattress. He then divests me of jeans and panties. I’m now officially bare-ass naked. For a second, it’s tempting to try and cover up. Ultimately, however, this would be a stupid move. And my various scars and assorted wobbly or dimpled bits don’t seem to bother him. Confidence in all things. Or at least a solid attempt at same.

“This is the plan?” I ask.

“You naked on your bed. That is the whole plan. What do you think?”

“I propose an amendment to the plan.” I nod. “Lose your pants.”

“Not yet.”

I’m on the verge of whining in a ladylike manner when he drops to his knees at the side of the bed, grabs my legs, and tugs me toward the edge of the mattress.

Okay then.

All of my dimpled and wobbly bits are on display and there’s no opportunity for me to cover myself or try to hide. Nor should I need to. Time to grow up and get confident. We’re doing this right now. Obviously he’s okay with my body, however, because next my legs are draped over his shoulders. Without further ado the man plants his face in my pussy. And then he says something. Something I cannot decipher, though it sends a thrill straight through me on account of his positioning.

“What?” I ask, smiling. I can’t help it. His lips moving against my labia, his breath against all of that oversensitive flesh. Maybe he’s a pussy whisperer. Who knows?

“You smell good,” he says before dragging his tongue through me. My back bows and holy hell. The rough of his stubble down there carefully grazing against me is amazing. So facial hair does have a useful application after all. “And you taste even better.”

There’s no time for me to respond. No space in my brain for formulating words. Not with the way he holds my sex open with his thumbs and gets busy eating me. It’s more enthusiasm than anything. His tongue licking and teeth nibbling. The suction and sheer overwhelming dedication to the task. I’ve never had a man come at me with such eagerness. In no time at all, the heat is building, the pressure mounting, and I’m grinding my ass into the bed. Not sure if I want to get away or get more. Most likely the latter. It’s just a lot.

I haven’t felt so much in . . . pretty much forever.

The lower half of my body is ignited. The rush of it spilling out over me from top to toe. When he sucks on my clit, toying with it with his tongue, I’m done for. Dead. Deceased. With a choked whimper it crashes over me, claiming me, and I’m just the remains of a woman left lying on the bed.

It takes a while for my thighs to stop shaking. In that time, Leif has taken a swig from the water bottle on my bedside table and stands considering me. “It’s been a while for you, huh?”

I nod.

“Me too.”

Without a word, I crawl further onto the mattress, taking a moment to pull myself together. To wonder what comes next.

The expression on his face is distant. Contemplative. “Once isn’t going to be enough. Is that all right with you?”

“Shouldn’t we see if we’re any good together before making any ongoing commitments?”

His smile is sneaky. Amused. “You really think we’re going to be lacking in chemistry? After that performance?”

It’s hard to talk to a man with a dick pointing toward the ceiling. Hard to keep your eyes on his face, at any rate. Dicks are distracting. Or his is. Noting the object my gaze is drawn to, he slips his thumbs beneath the waistband of his sleeping pants and drops them to the ground. Yes. That’s definitely an engorged penis. My guess was right. And he’s thick and long and all things good and right and then some. His penis is a thing of beauty.

Thank you, Baby Jesus.

“You got condoms in here?” he asks.

“Bedside drawer.”

He retrieves the unopened box and sorts out the prophylactic requirements in no time. I can’t help watch him, spellbound by his every movement. By his naked body. By his big hands moving in sure and swift movements. Then he crawls onto the bed toward me, situating himself between my legs.

“My fine lady,” he says in a low voice. “I am doth here to prove myself. And my fine appendage.”

“I don’t think that’s how you use that word.”

“Appendage?”

“Doth.”

“Ah.”

And he covers me with the heat of his body, his weight taken by one elbow situated beside my head. My world is suddenly small and intimate and smells damn good. I don’t know what to do with my hands. With any of me, actually. This is all so good, but strange at the same time.

“Why are you nervous?” he asks, kissing along my jawline.

“I don’t know.”

“No?”

“No,” I lie.

It hasn’t been a year for good things. I’ve gotten scarily used to disappointment. While the odds of this here between us not working out are minimal, I don’t want to get my hopes up just the same. Just in case. But it’s hard to keep your expectations under control when there’s a smokin’ hot man in your bed. When he’s decided to make you his sole focus. Then there’s the worries in the back of my head. Stupid things like, where does this leave us now that we’ve exposed our genitals to each other? Stuff like that.

One of his hands trails down my torso, pausing to plump my breast, and there’s no room left for thinking. Next his mouth is there, his lips sucking. It’s fucking exquisite. And the heat in his eyes. The darkness of his gaze. It’s all so honest and hungry and perfect.

“It’s okay, Anna,” he says, moving his mouth back to my lips. “It’s just us.”

“Yeah.”

“Just you and me.”

He positions the hard, wide head of his cock at my entrance and starts pushing in. Oh so slowly. Next he grips my thigh, encouraging me to wrap him up in my legs. That I can do. My body tenses slightly, taking a moment to adapt to his presence inside of me. It really has been a while. But it feels so good, him stretching me, taking me. So solid and substantial. His hips work against me and he sinks deeper and deeper. I know I’ve got all of him when he squeezes his eyelids shut, resting his forehead against mine.

“Give me a minute,” he says.

His hair forms a curtain around us and I can handle this better. Knowing that I’m affecting him too. That it’s been a while for him too. I stroke his arms and his shoulders. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin already. His neck is so thick. Never knew I was into thick necks before, but here we are. Because every inch of this man works for me. My thighs tighten on his hips and I guess my insides tighten on him well because he hisses and presses a hard, swift kiss to my mouth.

“Shit. Baby. You feel amazing,” he says, just making conversation. “I knew you would.”

“You thought about that?”

“All the fucking time.” He opens his eyes, staring down at me with a smile. “You comfortable? All good?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Excellent. Well, I’d be delighted to say all sorts of sweet and smutty things to you later. But right now I have things to do. Like you,” he specifies. “You’re the thing I have to do.”

“Got it.”

And he draws back before pushing back into me good and hard. I’m wet and wanting. I can take it. But it steals the breath from me just the same. There’s definitely no more time for talking. Fucking is the priority. Because there’s no way this is making love. This is hot and sweaty and fast and hard. His muscles flex and his face sharpens and all I can do is hang on for the ride. And the ride is spectacular. He is magic. He sets a determined pace, undoing me piece by piece until I’m one big ball of need. Nothing beyond this bed exists.

The focus on his face and set of his jawline is mesmerizing. He strokes me deep inside, lighting me up, building that high all over again. A normally impossible feat for me, but nothing is impossible when it comes to Leif. His hips grind against me, driving me into a frenzy. The base of his cock rubbing against my clit in a way that is honestly stellar. And when he finds a particularly thrilling spot and works it over and over again, raw electricity streaks up and down my spine. It’s like he knows my body better than I do and isn’t the least bit hesitant to show me.

His hand closes over my throat just firmly enough to make its presence known and his voice is guttural as he says, “Look at me.”

I can do nothing else as the whole world bleeds to gray and my body seizes. Waves of pleasure swamp me. There’s just him. Just him and me. And he’s all I’ve got to hold onto.

Leif curses and comes, slamming his hips against me.

We’re a hot wet mess on the mattress. His face in my neck, his back heaving as he sucks in air. I well know the feeling. Mostly, I’m limp. Floppy. Spent. Words like that. If we never moved again it would be fine with me. But oh so carefully, he disentangles himself and collapses beside me on the mattress. Probably for the best. As much as I like the feel of his weight pressing me down, the man is heavy. I smell like him. Hell, I’m covered in him and it’s wonderful. The man shook me up good and proper, then delivered on heaven. Easily the best sex I’ve ever had. How about that?

The quiet unnerves me. Or maybe it’s the sense of peace and contentment. I don’t trust it. “Are you okay?”

“Shh,” he says, eyelids sealed shut. “Post-come float.”

Huh.

For a long time, nothing is said. Then finally he comes out with, “Not bad for a first effort.”

I just look at him and blink. “Not bad?”

He frowns. “What? You didn’t like it?”

That’s when I hide my head under a pillow. This man’s going to be the death of me.