Page 76 of Before Eve
“Is this okay?” he asks, and I nod.
We breathe, trying to regain our equilibrium. He gives me a tender kiss on the neck. I draw his hand tighter around me, linking fingers, feeling such guilt. What does West think about it all? I don’t turn in his arms. It’s easier to talk when I don’t have to look at him.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“A lot.”
A lump rises in my throat. “You’re upset—”
“No,” he interrupts. “Not upset. Never upset. This is new territory for me. For both of us.”
I let out a glum breath.
Softness creeps into his tone. “But that’s not a bad thing. Don’t you understand that making love with you is going to be so much more amazing when you’re ready? When we’re both ready.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, miserable to my core.
“I’m not.” He turns me around. “And you don’t need to be, either.”
“You’re such a good guy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He lets out an amused scoff.
We both smile at that, and he playfully wiggles against me. “But all this foreplay is a good thing. Makes us all excited for the real event.”
I love the way he always makes an otherwise stressful situation an easier one. “Thanks for being so understanding. I know you’re used to different.”
“I am.” He traces the outline of my jaw with his finger. “But I’m not complaining. I was serious earlier. I want this to work between us.”
“Me, too.”
He pokes me in the ribs and I jump.
“What’d you do that for?”
He pokes me again. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
I poke him back.
West catches me up in a hug, gives me a quick kiss, and rolls with me across the bed.
“My clothes.” I laugh, pulling my undone jeans back up.
He helps me. “Yeah, the last thing I’d want is for your clothes to come off.”
“West.” I giggle.
He drops a quick kiss to the tip of my nose. “You’ve got about the best giggle I’ve ever heard,” he says, and that makes me giggle some more.
Smiling, he buttons and zips me up and hugs me to him so I’m stretched out on top of him. He trails a lazy finger up and down my back, like he did last night, and I gradually relax into him.
His finger slips under the hem of my shirt, and I freeze.
“It’s okay,” he softly assures me. “Trust me.”
My breath catches, and I hold still as he strokes, bare skin to bare skin. He traces several of the scars with the pads of his fingers.
“I don’t know how you did it. Survived your childhood. Turned out so sweet.”
