Page 43 of More Than Words

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to spend time with me trying not to bite each other’s heads off.”

“Are you saying you want to date me?”

I nodded, my thumb slowly stroking the soft skin of her jaw.

“Like go on actual dates and do things together outside the office?”

“That is the general idea, yes.”

She nodded, her eyes darting across my face, her posture tense. “And this isn’t some elaborate joke to you?”

I reached down and grasped her hand, pulling it away from my zipper. I pressed it against my chest, my heart beating at a frantic pace beneath her palm. “Does this feel like a joke to you?”

Isobel licked her lips, swallowing hard. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“I can live with that.” I nodded, lifting her hand and kissing her palm. My lips trailed down her wrist and across the soft skin of her inner forearm, lingering in the crease of her elbow as I draped her arm over my shoulder, leaning in. “But that still leaves quite a few things on the table I’m hoping you’re open to.”

“Like what?” she asked, her voice shaky as I placed small kisses behind her ear.

“Since you seem to think I’m so out of touch with what your authors write… Have you ever sat on a man’s face before? That seemed to be a position Chase’s legions of fans enjoyed mentioning in some of her reviews.”

She froze, her hand clutching the material of my shirt tightly in her fist. “No.”

My teeth nipped at the soft skin of her neck before I shifted, my lips barely grazing her ear as I lowered my voice. “Then I think we need to rectify that. Let’s take these tiny shorts off so I can show you what that feels like. Think of it as editorial research. You encourage your writers to do research, right? I think maybe we need to do some of our own.”

“We…I…you…” she stuttered while I released her and hooked my thumbs into the elastic waistband of her shorts. As I drew the material down, I expected my fingers to encounter more lace underwear like what she’d been wearing in Maine, but all I felt was soft, warm skin.

“Oh, what do we have here, naughty girl? You knew I was coming over tonight, and you didn’t put on any panties?”

Isobel blushed, her forehead falling forward to my chest, with her hands shaking against the material of my shirt.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” I whispered, my cheek brushing against hers while I drew the material down. “Stand up, babe.”

She braced her hands on my shoulders as she stood from the couch, her shorts falling to her ankles before she kicked them to the side, still refusing to look at me.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” I urged, tipping up her chin, and leaning in to kiss her lips softly while my other hand explored the soft, bare curves of her hips and thighs. “Can I take this off?” I asked, tugging lightly on the hem of her sweater, my fingers skating beneath the material as I awaited her response.

“You’re still fully dressed,” she whispered, her fingers moving to the button of my pants.

I caught her wrist, dragging it away from me. “This isn’t about me. This is about you.”

“But…”

“No buts, Is. Take this off so I can see you. I didn’t get to appreciate what I was touching the last time.”

She grasped the hem and slowly lifted the material, the soft expanse of her belly coming into view. She was gorgeous. Generous curves, and a silhouette most women would kill for with a tapered waist that flared out into a luscious ass and thick thighs. The thighs I wanted wrapped around my head sooner rather than later.

“Fuck, come here,” I whispered, pulling her close. My hand skated down her spine and grasped a handful of her ass while I leaned down to capture her lips once more. She had no idea how much I’d been fantasizing about this—about her—for the last several weeks, wondering if I’d ever touch her soft skin again.

“I know I’m not…”

“Fuck that,” I interrupted as I stood, pulling her against my chest while I dipped down to shut her up by ghosting my lips across hers. “I’m not as shallow as you seem to think I am. All those little imperfections you think you need to hide just make me want you more. I don’t need you to look or act a certain way. I just need you. Exactly like you are.”

I released her, unbuttoning the top few buttons of my shirt before I laid down on the couch, one leg extending over the arm while I braced the foot of my other on the floor next to the couch.

“You’re serious?” she asked, shifting nervously from side to side as I extended one hand toward her.

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