Page 52 of Wilder at Heart
‘Not so fast, gorgeous.’
He rolls his knuckles around my instep and if I could moan, I really would.
‘You and I are going to have a little chat.’ He looks up from under his cap and his eyes connect with mine. In the shadow of the cap, they look darker than ever.
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
‘There’s plenty to talk about. Starting with, I’m sorry for ruining your evening.’
‘We’ve all been there, Romeo. You didn’t ruin it.’ I mean, he absolutelymademy evening, and then he saved me from myself. Not that I’m telling him that.
‘I made you leave your friend’s party after about half an hour, after you’d got all glammed up, because I was a dick and couldn’t handle my booze. You should have just sent me home in a cab.’
As if I would have done that. I doubt any cabbie would have taken him, anyway.
‘Honestly. It’s not a big deal, and it’s the least I can do, given I’ve turned into your squatter.’
‘Andyou didn’t get your happy ending.’
My head jerks up. He’s grinning at me.
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ I say stiffly. He kneads harder, and I arch my back and clench my fists in an attempt to take the pain.
‘Come off it. If I hadn’t cocked up, you and I would have come back here and fucked. You know it as well as I do. And you also know it would have been fucking amazing.’ He balances my heel in one hand and his thumb does leisurely laps of my instep. It’s decadent. And sensual. I squirm on my cushion.
My face is heating up. Why the hell does he have to be so bloodycomfortabletalking about this stuff? It’s excruciating. It’s ten o’clock on a Sunday morning, and I’m trying to enjoy my bacon sarnie, and I do not want to talk about sex with a guy I’m not even intimate with (well, not that intimate). Jesus. I didn’t even talk about sex with Jonathan, and I was sleeping with him.
I don’t want to be disingenuous here. I really don’t. I mean, there’s no point in pretending nothing happened when it clearly did. No matter how uncomfortable I am acknowledging it. And even if I tried to be coy, Theo wouldn’t be having any of it. I pick up my mug of tea and grow very interested in its contents.
‘I would like to think,’ I say carefully to my tea, ‘that we would have come to our senses last night when we got home, and left things at just a kiss.’
He laughs. ‘Just a kiss? Jesus. You must get a lot more action than I thought if that was just a kiss for you. That wasn’t a kiss. That wasforeplay. If I’d had my wits about me, I’d have untied that slinky little dress and got you naked before we got through my front door.’
He lifts my foot over his thigh and puts it down so it’s lying in the warm, muscular, and very hairy valley between his legs.Good Lord. My toes are so close to his junk. If I slunk down in my seat just a little, I could definitely reach his penis. Honestly, this guy has no boundaries. I must put some of my Brené Brown books by his bed. But he’s picking up my other foot to give it the Rolls Royce treatment, so I withhold my criticism. Even though having our legs entwined like this reminds me of last night on the dance floor, when I couldn’t get close enough to him.
I decide not to piss on his party by telling him my dress had so much tit tape keeping it over my boobs that nothing would have been slipping off me. I still have sticky strips on my skin, even after my shower this morning.
‘Look, Romeo. It was very… hot. Okay? It was hot. I admit it. We were into it. But I would not have had sex with you. Maybe you would have tried, but I would have said no. And meant it.’
I nod my head firmly to underline my stance in my own mind, because what I’ve said is less the truth and more what I hope would have happened. I hope I’d have had the wherewithal to stay away from Theo’s bed. But honestly?
I’m not sure.
‘You tell yourself that, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure you were teeing yourself up for a giant orgasm when we were dancing. Maybe I’m being a delusional arsehole, but it seems to me you wanted it as much as I did.’
‘I’m not saying I didn’t want it.’
God, I still want it. And I’m not happy with myself. But unfortunately my pep talk to myself this morning has been overshadowed somewhat by Theo’s blue t-shirt, and beard, and the sensation of his hairy legs against my bare skin, and the magic ministrations of his hands to my feet.
I clarify. I owe him that much. ‘I was, for want of a better phrase, into it. But I don’t do that. I don’t have sex with people I’m not in a relationship with. So I would have said no to your’—I grit my teeth—‘tempting offer to go to bed with you.’
‘And what? Gone to bed alone and got yourself off?’
He’s impossible. ‘Probably, yeah.’ In fact, that’s exactly what I did once I’d put him to bed, but he doesnotneed to know that.
He pushes his cap up slightly, and we stare at each other.
‘You do know casual sex is okay, Nora. Like, it’s not a sin, or anything. And it can begreat. Especially when there’s good chemistry, which I’m telling you, we have.’
