Page 57 of Chasing After You
“Mon cœur,tell me why the hell you would think you weren’t any good at kissing?”
I am so out of my depth here. I make the fatal mistake of finally looking Henry in the eyes, and instead of whatever I thought I’d see, he only looks worried.
“You’re only wearing a towel,” I whisper.
“Then I guess you better talk faster before I flash you.”
Yes, please.
I chew my lip, tucking my hands into the sleeves of Henry’s sweatshirt so I don’t reach out and do anything I’ll regret. You’d think I’ve never been around him shirtless before based on the way I’m acting. I have, and it gets better and better each time.
“My ex-boyfriend. He . . . I haven’t dated a whole lot. I spent too much time focused on gymnastics to care much about it. I’ve kissed people, but relationships . . .” I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s the truth, but only half the story. None of the guys I was around ever measured up to Henry, so it didn’t feel worth it to try with any of them. Reid was my first attempt at giving someone a real chance without comparing them to Henry the entire time, and it blew up in my face. I was nervous about my lack of experience prior to dating Reid, but after him, I’m fucking terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing with Henry. I know I shouldn’t let a guy I dated for a few months get in my head like this, but I haven’t been able to brush off the shit Reid said to me, leaving me worse off than I was before him. The last thing I want to do is blow my chance with Henry because I have no idea what I’m doing. “One of the reasons he said he broke up with me was because kissing me was like kissing a piece of cardboard and—” I shut my mouth quickly because I’m definitely not going to say the next part.
Henry’s entire body has coiled with tension, and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. “And what?” he asks, his voice hoarse as if the little restraint he has is about to snap.
“I made him feel like less of a man because he couldn’t make me orgasm.”Holy shit. I didn’t actually admit that, right?
“You’re joking,” Henry says, and a low chuckle sounds from his chest. “He’s not a man, Mirabelle. He’s a fuckingboy. No man worth anything would ever make a woman feel like it was her fault she couldn’t come from five seconds of foreplay, which is giving him the benefit of the doubt that he even attempted foreplay. Never in a million years would I compare kissing you to kissing a piece of fucking cardboard.Never.”
“Okay,” I say softly, overwhelmed by all of this right now. Henry’s lack of clothing, the topic of conversation, and Henry’s lack of clothing.
His gaze falls slowly to my mouth, and then he looks further down as if noticing the sweatshirt he told me to keep. “You look better in that than I ever did.”
My brain is melting.
“In case I wasn’t clear last night, I really enjoyed kissing you. Thank you for helping me.” Henry presses a sweet kiss to the top of my head.
My heart is still racing when I walk into my room, and Emily is holding a red blouse up to her body. “Did you tell him?” she asks, and I shake my head slowly.
“No, but I think I’m ready to drown myself in the pool.”
“Not an option, but continue.”
I groan, flopping onto the bed. “He was only wearing a towel, and I forgot how to use my words with him standing there looking like some Greek god.”
Emily rubs my back reassuringly. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“It was.”
By the time I explain the conversation to her, we’re on the same page agreeing, it actuallywasthat bad.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Henry
NORMALLY, PR STAFF wouldn’t travel with the team to away games, so when Stacey and Mirabelle board the team plane to travel with us to our first away game, it causes quite a stir.
I hear someone a few rows behind me grumble about wishing their girlfriend could travel with the team.
“Here, let me help with that,” Quinn says, standing up to help Mirabelle put her carry-on in the above compartment before I can move. She smiles at him, saying something I can’t hear, and I pull my phone out to see if I missed a message from Mira about traveling with the team, but I have nothing.
“Did you know she was coming?” Wilson asks, and I look away from Quinn trying to show off he can lift her bag with one arm. Doesn’t he know she has enough upper body strength to do that herself without showboating?
“She didn’t say anything to me.”
Mirabelle would have to be talking to me to say something, and she’s been avoiding me ever since our conversation outside my door earlier this week.
Stacey makes eye contact with me and shakes her head, disappointed. My phone buzzes half a second later with a message from her, followed by another one a second later.
