Page 96 of Writing Mr. Wrong

Whoa, boy. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Step one is figuring out whether she’d be okay with waking up to your tongue in her. Because that’s not a given.

He considered the matter. Not being accustomed to waking up with someone, this was uncharted ground.

The trick, he figured, was to let her know what he was about to do and give her a chance to say yes, even if it was a sleepy and half-awake yes. And then, afterward, ask whether, in future, he could just go for it.

He eased out from under Gemma. When she stirred, he kissed her shoulder. He was about to start moving down the bed, when she lifted her head.

“Whose room is this?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Yours.”

“Mmm. Okay.” She yawned. “So you’re going back to yours?”

“Uh, no…”

Another yawn, her eyes mostly closed. “You can. That’s fine. I get it.”

“You get what?”

She smiled down at him, eyes barely cracked open, obviously unable to see his expression in the shadowy room. “You don’t need to worry about that with me, Mason.”

“Worry about what?”

A shrug as she sleepily rolled onto her back while he sat up, barely able to breathe, knowing what she was saying and trying very hard to tell himself he was wrong.

“Me expecting more,” she said. “It was great. Amazing. And exactly what I needed.”

“What you needed…”

She ran a hand through her hair and snarled another yawn. “Sex. Good sex. And I got better than I dared hope for, so thank you.”

His gut twitched. Why did this feel like she was thanking him for dinner?

She tilted her head, as if finally seeing him. “I mean it. You don’t need to worry about me pulling a Camille.” She grinned. “If there’s more where that came from, I’ll take it, but no pressure. And once we’re home…” She shrugged again, still smiling. “What happened in paradise stays in paradise.”

His stomach roiled now, and he could feel the emotions rising. Hurt. Humiliation. Even a touch of anger. He wanted to shove them down, to laugh and say,Sure, that was good. A bit of fun. Nothing wrong with that.

But there was no way in hell he was getting those words out.

He should retreat. Get out of here before he said something—

“And if that’s not what I want?” he said.

She stopped mid-yawn. “Hmm?”

Was he doing this? Fuck, yes, he was. Push past every impulse to flee. This was just a misunderstanding. She knew his usual style, and he thought he’d been clear that this was different, but obviously he hadn’t been clear enough.

Time to fix that.

“I wasn’t serving up dinner last night, Gem.” Okay, that was a little harsh, her eyes widening. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is that it wasn’t meant to be just sex. I thought that was obvious. I want more. Like I said yesterday.”

“With me?”

No, with the other woman in this room.

Stop. That was anger, and anger is dangerous. Keep this smooth. Work it out.

“Yes, with you.” He shifted to face her. “I know I screwed up twenty years ago. I wasn’t ready. But I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over you.” He stopped. “No, scratch that. I haven’t gotten over you. I’ve been chasing you since kindergarten, and when I finally got you, I messed up. Messed up bad. I’m not doing that again.”

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