Page 79 of Imperfect Arrangement
The covers shift. Her fingers tighten around the edge of the blanket.
“How long has it been, Willow?” I ask again, dragging the vanity stoolloudlynext to her bed and sitting down like I have all the time in the world.
I do have all the time in the world for this, for her.
She peeks out from under the blanket, her hazel eyes locking on to mine in the dark. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper.
I grin, stretching out my legs and getting comfortable. “You texted me about yourtragiclack of orgasms and mentioned you were in the market for a vibrator. What kind of man would I be if I ignored a distress call like that?”
She bolts upright. “Oh my God, that was not meant for you!”
I cock my head, giving her my bestI’m not buying it for a secondsmirk. In reality, Iknowit wasn’t for me. She must have meant to text her friends about her littleissue.
“Wasn’t it, though? Maybe deep down you knew exactly what you were doing and were expecting exactly this—me in your room.”
Her lips part like she’s going to argue, but then she closes her eyes, swallows, composes herself, and squares her shoulders. I know what it means. She’s calming herself down and preparing herself because losing to me is not something Willow Pershing allows.
When her eyes finally open, the fire is back, but I don’t let her say whatever comeback she’s thought of. Tonight, I want to see the real Willow. The one who I happen to meet during our long talks in the night. The one who’s vulnerable inside even when she puts on a strong front.
I lean forward, close enough that I can breathe the fruity, citrus smell of her shampoo. Her eyes flick to mine, and for a heartbeat, we just stare at each other.
“I didn’t mean to send it to you.” Her voice shakes and hits me square in my chest.
“But you did and now I don’t want to pretend that I didn’t receive it.”
“Ray…I…I’m not looking for serious.” Her eyes stay on my face, and her unspoken words are heard loud and clear. I’m sure she knows by now that while she’s not looking for serious, I’m someone who’s nothing but serious when it comes to relationships and my personal life. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but she adds carefully, “I…Ican’tdo serious. I’m not built like that.”
“Willow, do you see me on my knee, holding a ring?”
Despite the words, my mind immediately goes to the ring I’d designed with the jeweler just for her. I wade through my thoughts as my hand holds her chin. My thumb drifts to her bottom lip, full and wet, as she licked it a second ago, probably unconsciously. It’salmostenough for me to lose my mind and crash my lips to hers, but this is Willow—the one woman with whom I don’t want just one night.
“Listen carefully, Miss Pershing.” My thumb is still grazing her lip, which is begging to be sucked, as I bore my gaze into hers. “It’s your choice. If you tell me to leave, I will. But if you ask me to stay, I’ll give you a night that will show you the difference between a man and a vibrator.” My every word is slow and careful, and Willow’s eyes never leave my face. “So what’s it going to be?”
Her breath hitches. “But I don’t do serious?—”
“It’s a one-word answer, Willow. Stay or leave.” My voice comes out strained.
When she continues to stare at me, I lean forward, my lips a breath away from hers, my thumb still on her mouth. “You don’t do serious. I heard you the first time. Now answer my goddamn question. Am I leaving you here burning, writhing in sheets the whole night, or am I showing you what it’s like to be with a man?”
She shudders.
I give her a heartbeat. A moment to tell me to go.
Instead, she whispers, “Don’t leave.”
“Good answer.” My lips curl and my face dips further. When she lifts her head up to meet me halfway, I feel a rush of adrenaline through my system. But Willow is not a quick fuck. She’s someone to be savored, and I do just that.
Instead of ravishing her lips, I graze mine over the corner of her mouth.
Right now, the woman who used to be my archenemy is like my favorite wet dream come alive. I don’t push, just run my nose along her cheeks, her jawline, while my hands push the covers down.
She’s soft, compliant, as if in a trance. I hold her hands in mine and glide my fingers in between hers. Her breath hitches, and every other second, she sucks in air whenever my lips make contact with her skin. Our fingers continue caressing, tangling, gliding to the back of our hands in a sensual dance, and I bring my lips close to the shell of her ear. “Are you wet?”
She freezes, but I tighten my grip on her.
“No thinking, Willow. It’s just about feelings tonight. You get that?”
I look in her eyes and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before she nods.
