Page 22 of Dangerously Tempting

“Sure. Surprise me.”

I walk around the couch to sit down as he moves into the kitchen. The space isn’t extravagant or large, but the floorplan is open and I can watch him as he moves around making us drinks. He’s shed his jacket and draped it across the back on one of the stools at the bar so I have a clear line of sight to the muscles shifting across his back under his shirt as he works, and my mouth goes dry. It should be a sin for a man to look that fucking good. I want to stay mad at him, but I also want to lick every inch of him.

He turns just in time to catch me staring and I blush while he grins. He comes back into the living room with two glasses in tow and places them on coasters on the coffee table. It’s only then that I notice the piece of furniture and my eyes are pulled to all the intricate details.

It’s stained nearly black, and along the edges are intricate carvings in the wood that look like vines wrapped around each other. I reach out and trace my fingers over the pattern. “This is really beautiful.”

“Thank you. I made it.” My eyes snap up to his and the corner of his mouth kicks up but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “What, didn’t think I had any talents because I’m a construction worker?”

My mouth drops open but I struggle to find words. He’s right, in a sense. I’m not sure where that line of thought came from, but it’s one that I need to change immediately. “I’m sorry.”

He looks surprised for a moment, his eyes flicking between mine like I’ve done something no one else has before. Maybe I have. I think we can all be defensive sometimes when we’re called out on something and don’t want to have to deal with it. People aren’t often willing to just admit their shortcomings and apologize. I’ve struggled with that many times before myself, but since this is a large part of him it’s something I’m not going to make excuses for.

He may be someone that I’ve spent less than a day with, but something about him feels essential. A part of him calls to me, and it’s something that I want to explore on a deeper level. He feels important, so I don’t want to hurt him with ideals that were ingrained into me somewhere along the way.

I’m not too big of a person to admit to my faults.

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ve heard the things that people say and I’ve been treated like I’m below people, just for my line of work, for years,” he shrugs. “Just know that I’m not settled into this for the long haul. I’m working on getting my degree in architecture and then I’ll move on from being in the construction crew and instead be telling them what to build,” he smirks, and I set my hand over his where it rests on his thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jameson. I’m the one in the wrong here. I was a bitch. I jumped to conclusions and thought the worst because I was taken off guard and hurt.”

He flips his hand over, lacing his fingers with my own. “I do have to explain myself, because like I said before, I was going to track you down anyways. To make things clear, I had intentions to do that the moment you left me in that hotel parking lot. I thought I could let you walk away, but,” he trails off, running his thumb over my hand. “I haven’t found someone who fits me as you do, and I hope that you feel the same way. I know it’s all surface-level right now, but I’d like to see if things stay the same if we dive deeper.”

My mouth goes dry and I stare at him for a beat. I know he’d said pretty much the same thing downstairs, but now it feels more serious, more real. I’m right there with him, but at the same time, my body is locked up in fear. He’s right, we do fit together really well. So well, in fact, that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finding out he’d kind of lied to me was just a minor blip, what I’m waiting for is the inevitable bomb that will go off somewhere along the line.

You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true; they usually are.

“You can say no if you don’t feel the same. I would never expect something from you that you don’t want to or aren’t ready to give.” He loosens his fingers to pull away but I squeeze my fingers around his hand before he can.

“No, it’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head. “I felt the same way that day. I even went back to the parking lot but you were gone.”

“I’m sorry. I had a family emergency, which is a story we’ll get to another time.” He squeezes my hand again, and I get from the motion that everything with that situation is okay right now. “If not that, then what is it?”

“I…” I sigh, shrugging. “We barely know each other and I really don’t know what to expect or how to approach this.”

He smiles. “That’s okay. I’m right there with you, okay? We can take things as slowly as we need to in order to feel comfortable. I’m in no rush. Some of the best things in life take time.”

“Won’t that be weird, though? I mean, we’ve already slept with each other.” I blush at the thought. “And I swear I don’t usually do that. I just felt a connection to you.”

He grins. “No, I don’t think it’ll be weird. If anything, it will remove the awkward build-up where we’re filled with nerves about it and make it easy to move back into when we’re ready to go that far again.”

I nod, thinking he might be right about that. “Okay… so would we be together, then?”

“If you mean exclusive, then yes. I won’t do this any other way.”

A weight lifts off my shoulders at his words and I meet his eyes. “Then I’m in.”

His smile lights up his entire face and I can’t help but return it. Knowing that I put it there makes my chest swell and suddenly just holding his hand isn’t enough, though I’m hesitant to push past that. Who’s setting the rules for what we do and when?

“Amelia,” his voice jerks me out of my thoughts and away from where I’d been staring at his lips. “Everything is up to you.” The word you is punctuated by him squeezing my hand. “All you have to do is act or ask.”

I blush yet again. “I’m a totally open book to you, aren’t I?”

He smiles, laughing softly. “Not completely open, but I have a pretty good idea.”

I huff out a breath, looking up at the ceiling to try and get over my embarrassment and find some sort of resolve to go for what it is that I want. I’m not usually the one to take control. I’ll wait for someone else to make the move first, even if I want it so bad it’s almost unbearable. I let my embarrassment and hesitation get the best of me far too often.

With one more deep inhale and exhale I look back at him. “Fine. Can I kiss you? Because I really want to.”

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