Page 18 of My Brother's Roommate (Frisky Business 2)
“What is it, Wolfie? You can tell me.”
But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he closes what’s left of the space between us, one hand floating to the back of my neck as he presses his lips to mine in a slow, featherlight kiss.
At once, everything within me warms, and I know for certain it’s not just from the fire or the bourbon. It’s the heat of his lips as he brushes them against mine a second time, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as we find a slow, sweet rhythm.
He tastes like bourbon and smoke, the perfect rugged contrast to his tender touch.
Slowly, he moves one hand to my thigh, resting it on the spot where I pinched myself in a desperate effort to keep my distance from him. Now that’s the very place he strokes with his thumb as he nibbles softly on my lower lip, exploring how we move with each other.
I’ve thought about kissing Wolfie a hundred times, but when I pictured it, it was never like this. I’d imagined something hot and heavy, an urgent scrambling of limbs and lips. But this is softer. Sweeter. Hypnotic. I’m quickly learning that when it comes to Wolfie, I should always expect the unexpected.
Brushing my hair to the side, he exposes my neck to the warmth of his breath, pressing delicate kisses behind my ear and gentle nuzzles against the column of my throat. I’m surrounded by his earthy, masculine scent, breathing it in with each quick, unsteady breath. When he finally pulls back, I want to beg him to kiss me again, to pull me into his arms and keep his lips fused to mine all night. And I would, if I didn’t have twice as many questions as I did before.
“Well,” I say breathlessly. “That was . . .”
Soft? Sweet? Delicious? A perfect moment plucked straight from a daydream?
“Surprising,” I finally say, sweeping my tongue along my lower lip in hopes of tasting him again. “I, um, I guess that confirms the whole are you attracted to me thing.”
“Glad to hear it.” There’s something different, softer, about Wolfie’s eyes, but the tic of his jaw is a surefire sign he has a whole lot more to say, only I’m not sure he will. But the last thing I want him to do is close himself off again.
Cautiously, I reach out and lay my fingers over his knuckles. “Tell me, Wolfie. I want to know what you’re thinking about when you’re quiet like that.”
A storm is brewing in his eyes, more powerful and unforgiving than the one outside. But I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I want to walk right into it. That is, if he’ll let me.
After another unbearably long silence, he murmurs something under his breath and turns his attention back to the flames. I guess it’s easier to look directly into the fire than into my eyes.
“How casual you were about sex . . . it surprised me,” he says, his voice slow and careful, as though he were stepping on eggshells with every word. “Sex for me has never been . . . easy.”
I nod slowly, processing his words, then I take a deep breath. “Okay. What about it is difficult?”
He lifts a shoulder. “It seems to come naturally for other guys. My friends . . . the way they talk. I guess I’m just built differently.”
That’s for sure.
Everything about Wolfie is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He’s guarded and distant one moment, then warm and comforting the next. Hot and cold. Fire and ice. It’s jarring, but every time he freezes over, I find myself chasing the next flame. Which is exactly what I’m doing now.
“So, you don’t like sex?”
The question earns me a scoff. “I like sex. But I don’t generally do the casual thing. I don’t get naked with somebody just because.”
“Okay. That’s not such a bad thing.”
Not my personal preference, but certainly not bad.
“That’s not it, though,” he says, his shoulders growing tense as he finds the words. “It’s more than that.”
I shift toward him, erasing the distance he just created. “You can tell me, Wolfie.” I sound like a broken record, but I want him to know that whatever it is, I want to hear it. I want him to know he’s safe with me.
He shakes his head. “I probably shouldn’t.”
Getting this man to open up is like trying to pick a splinter out of your finger. Just when you think you have it, it slips out of your grasp again.
I take his hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve been honest with each other so far. Let’s not stop now.”
He nods once, which may be as good as silence from other guys. But from him, it’s a sign that he’s willing to keep this conversation going. He’s not throwing me out in the snow just yet.
