Page 22 of It Just Feels Right

His hand comes up, and he cups my cheek. “Tell me.”

While looking in his eyes, I do it. Well, I at least try to break it down for him. “I want to take this slow.”

He rears back. “Is this uncomfortable to you? We can go as slow as you want to. I don’t want to pressure you.”

I feel overheated. “No, it’s not that.” I blow out a breath and bury my forehead in his chest. “I’m a virgin,” I mutter.

When he doesn’t react, I raise my head and look at him through my hooded lashes. He doesn’t look disgusted or as if he’s about to run away. But he does look curious. “Did you just say you’re a virgin?”

Embarrassment fills me. I roll my eyes. “Are you starting to think I’m more trouble than I’m worth?”

His voice is low and gruff. “Cass, baby, how could you think I’d be upset with that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m sure you’re expecting—”

He shakes his head and stops me. “I’m not expecting anything. You don’t get it. I’m happy to just be here like this with you. I won’t put any pressure on you. You have complete control of this, okay?”

I put my hand to his chest. “I said slow. I would still like to kiss you and just see where it goes.”

He rolls to his back and pulls me on top of him. “You can kiss me anytime you want.”

I say it before I can think twice about it. “What if I want more?”

His breath catches. “In case you haven’t realized it yet, I won’t tell you no. You want anything from me, you can have it.”

I bite my lip. “Okay, so if I asked you to take your shirt off, you’d do it?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “You want me to take my shirt off?”

I nod. “Yeah, I do. Since I first saw you, I’ve wondered what you look like without your shirt.”

He scoots to the side and pulls his shirt up his body, pulls it off his arms, and then tosses it on the coffee table. “There you go.”

I’m staring at him, and I should probably make sure I don’t start to drool. He’s beautiful. The hard muscles of his abdomen are covered with a thin layer of dark hair that leads down and disappears under his pants. I can’t stop myself. I reach out and brush my fingers across his chest.

He sucks in a breath, and I draw my hand back. “Oh God, Baker, I’m telling you I want to take it slow and I’m practically manhandling you. I’m sorry.”

He grabs my hand and puts it back on his chest. “You can touch me if you want, Cass.”

I trace the hard planes of his chest, and when I reach his nipple, I draw circles around it. He moans, and I stop. “Are you okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, it feels good.”

I look at him curiously, and he asks, “Has anyone touched you there, Cass?”

I bite my lip and nod. “Yeah, but I didn’t like it. He was squeezing me like I was an orange or something. It felt more weird than anything.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it again. I can see the need in his eyes. “Baker… would you want to—”

He cuts me off. “Yes, fuck yeah, I want to touch you, but I don’t want to pressure you.”

I think about it for less than a second. I can’t give up this opportunity. Who knows how long it will be before he comes to his senses? I lean up and grab the hem of my shirt, but he stops me. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “I trust you.”

He helps me out of my shirt, and I try to reach behind me to unhook my bra. I finally get it and take it off, letting it fall to the floor. I’m nervous until I see the way Baker’s looking at me as if I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. “You’re so perfect, Cass.”

“I’m not, but you make me feel like I am.”

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