Page 45 of Lost in You

“Is it weird that I was okay getting naked for you, but I’m nervous about dancing with you?”

His lips quirk into a smile. “Would you feel more comfortable getting naked to dance?”

My laugh is genuine this time. “No, I’m good.”

He puts a hand out and my heart hammers harder. How is he so damn sweet? I’ve never known a man who didn’t do everything in his power to get me into bed as quickly as possible if he thought he had a chance at it.

I take the few steps separating us and put my hand in his. He laces our fingers together and wraps his free arm around my waist, pulling me close. I rest my head against his shoulder and put my arm around his back.

We sway in silence for a couple of songs. Then “At Last” starts playing, and he releases my hand and puts his other arm around me, holding me close against him. I wrap my other arm around his back, one hand on his neck. I slide my fingers into his hair.

He’s hard, and a delicious thrill passes through me. Whether he lets himself do anything more than this with me, I at least know he wants me. And I want him back so much it’s an ache inside me.

I feel him sliding the back of my shirt up, moving it until he can put his arms around my bare skin. The feel of his touch on my lower back makes me exhale a sigh.

A log falls and crackles sound from the fireplace. It’s not really even warm in here, but I’m warm from head to toe from being this close to Lincoln.

“How many times have you been in love?” he asks me softly.

“Mmm...once, I guess.”

“With the college guy?”

“No, the guy I dated after college. It lasted a year.”

“You over him?”

I laugh softly. “Yes. I was the one who ended things.”

“Why?”

“It just ran its course, I guess. He started drinking more and I found an open browser on my computer where he’d been looking at porn. I just felt it deep inside, you know? That he wasn’t the one.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you? How many times have you been in love?”

More than thirty seconds pass before he finally answers. “Never. I told you I’m fucked up.”

“Why is that fucked up?”

He sighs softly. “I guess it’s more the reason that’s fucked up. I’m so hung up on what happened to my parents. And to me, when they got divorced, that I’m never letting it happen to me.”

My heart cracks as I think about how lonely that must be.

“Is it that you don’t trust anyone or that you don’t trust yourself?” I ask.

“Both.”

There are so many things I want to say, but I stop myself. He didn’t choose to feel this way; no one wants to be different from everyone around them. Isolated. Just like I didn’t choose anxiety.

“I get what it’s like to have something happen that changes you,” I say.

He slides a hand down and cups my ass, a smile in his voice as he asks, “You like being spanked?”

Arousal floods me hard. My head is saying no, but every other body part is saying hell yes, please now.

“I don’t...um, no one’s ever done it.”

---