Page 100 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
He looks confused, and, if I’m honest, completely delicious, standing there in his formfitting bike shorts and clinging T-shirt. I look from his red hair, to the freckle on his lower lip, to his muscled thighs, dragging my gaze back up to meet his.
“Mallory?”
“I—” My voice rasps. I clear my throat and try again. “Before I leave, I just wanted you to know.”
He reaches back to scratch his neck, and I don’t even bother trying to keep my eyes from following the swell of his biceps.
“I wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past weeks,” I continue. “And I know nothing can come of this, but I feel—I mean, you’re—” I lose the thread. I really should have planned what I wanted to say, but I had texted him without giving a thought to what would happen next.
“Yes?” One side of his mouth curls upward, and there’s a look in his eye that I haven’t seen there before. He takes a half step forward, and I notice how very broad his chest is. As if it would take up this entire doorway. My breath catches as I look up and realize what the look in his eye is: It’s confidence. He doesn’t move any closer, just stands perfectly still, like a predator who knows that all he has to do is wait.
Ridiculous.He’s not a predator. I’m in control; I’m the one who invited him over, this is my house, and I’ll be the one who decides if and when to let him inside.
I shake my head to clear out these swirling thoughts.
“No?” he asks.
“No,” I say quickly. “Not no. I just—I wanted you to know.” I take a shaky breath. “And I think you do.”
He looks at me, unblinking, with a question in his eyes. I nod.
With one unhurried movement, he curves his face down to mine as one arm curls around me. He buries his fingers in my hair at the back of my head and gently tugs so that my face turns upward to meet his.
“I do,” he says.
And with a noise deep in his throat, so low it’s almost a growl, he kisses me. As I kiss him back—simultaneously starving for the taste of him and wanting to savor the moment so that it lasts forever—every particle of my body relaxes. It’s as if I’ve been tensed, waiting for this, wanting this, and I’ve finally succumbed, and it’s bliss.
He backs me up into the doorframe, his body molding to mine, his hands gripping my hips now. I break away just long enough to say, “Maybe we should close the door.”
He laughs gruffly, glancing out at the empty cul-de-sac. I grab his hand and pull him inside, shutting the door behind us. He wastes no time pressing me back against the wall, caressing my jaw, gently clinching my earlobe between two fingers as he kisses me softer than before.
“Damn, you’re good at this,” I mutter.
He smiles down at me. “Should we stop?”
I hesitate. My hands are on his chest; one of his legs is in between mine. I rest my head on the wall behind me.
“I leave in two days.”
He nods, removing his hand from my face, taking a step back. The sudden air between us physically hurts.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, and then I laugh because I said the same thing in the bath, and now it sounds like I’m begging, and maybe I am.
“Rosen?” The crease between his brows deepens. I reach up and smooth it away with my thumb.
“Green light,” I say.
He needs no more encouragement. And as it turns out, we’re fine without furniture.
I help him out of his clothes—what can I say, I want the visual image to take home with me—before stepping out of mine. There’s a fluidity about the way we come together, as if we’ve done it before. And there’s an ease with which he holds me, presses me into the wall, my legs wrapped around him, as if I’m floating again, only this time I’m weightless with ecstasy and wondering why the hell I waited this long to let him in.
When we’ve both finished, our foreheads pressed together as we catch our breath, Daniel doesn’t loosen his grip on my thighs. Instead, he says, “Come here,” and carries me across the empty living room and into the kitchen, where he lays me down on a bench in the breakfast nook.
“Again?” I laugh.
“Again.” He hovers over me, and words cannot express my delight at being caged in by those biceps. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
This time I’m the one who growls as I reach up for the back of his neck and pull him toward me.
