Page 14 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
I sigh. “And you seem rational and sane and interesting, and god knows I’m attracted to you, but I’m scared, and that’s why I’m being so cautious. I’m just terrified I’ll fall for you and you’ll turn out to be just as much a mistake as Paul and all the other guys I’ve dated since then. I’m embarrassed to admit it but, sadly, every one of them ended up being an asshole in one way or another.”
Ryder tugs on his beard. “Well, I think I can safely say I don’t think I’m harboring any inner asshole-ness.”
I point at him. “You did quit answering my calls and texts after four dates and a kiss.”
“‘All right, we’ll call it a draw,’” he says, in a fake British accent.
I laugh. “You can’t quote Monty Python at me and think it’ll win you enough points with me to get you out of this.” I’ve long since finished my drink, but don’t really want another one just yet. “Ryder, look—If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. I can handle that. But at least say it to my face.”
He sighs. “I apologize, Laurel. It was a childish decision and a dick move, and I’m sorry.”
I wait, but he seems disinclined to say anything else. “But?”
He rolls a shoulder. “I just…I’m not there.”
I nod. “I see. Well, so be it.” I slide out of the booth. “Thank you for saving me from Mr. Hairy Knuckles, for the drink, and for the explanation.”
“Laurel—”
I settle my purse on my shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Ryder.”
I make it to my car, and then I feel a strong hand on my waist. I don’t turn, because I know without looking that it’s him.
“It’s not that simple, Laurel,” he murmurs. “Even beyond my risk-aversion, the reason I vanished like I did is because I’m so attracted to you it makes me fucking crazy.”
“That’s backward to me, and I don’t buy it.” I arch an eyebrow. “If you’re attracted me, you wouldn’t vanish—you’d pursue me.”
He spins me around, presses me up against the door of my car, his forehead against mine, his nose beside mine, his lips brushing mine. “You’re determined to take things slow, and with my attraction to you being at a fucking eleven, that’s not an option.”
“Oh,” I whisper. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“Maybe.”
“What happened to being able to resist me pressuring you?
“Is this you pressuring me?”
“Not even close.”
“To be clear, when I said I wanted to take things slow, I didn’t mean we’d never have sex, or that it would take, like, a year of dating,” I murmur. “It’s just that I didn’t want you to expect it right away. I wanted to have time to assess what you were like before I let you that far into my life.”
“Because it wouldn’t be just sex, for you.”
“Is it ever?”
He nods. “Quite frequently, in my experience.”
“Well, my experience has been different.” My hands rest on his shoulders, roaming the mountainous curves of his heavy muscle. “I go into something telling myself it’ll be just sex, and then I end up with feelings, and the guy ends up being an asshole or needy or messed up somehow, and I get stuck in the same old cycle of dealing with a guy who needs me.”
“I don’t need you,” he murmurs.
“No?”
“But I sure as fuck want you.”
“That sounds refreshing. I wonder what it’s like?” I say, sounding like I’m joking when I’m not, not at all.
He laughs. “I have no idea—I’ve often wondered the same thing.”
He’s still kissing-close, but he hasn’t kissed me. “What are we doing here, Ryder?”
“I’m waiting for you to change your mind.”
“About what?”
“Me kissing you.”
I frown. “Why would I?”
His smirk is devilish and ravenous. “Because once I kiss you, I make no guarantees that I’ll be able to slow down.”
“But you’re not there yet, in an emotional sense.”
“Right.”
“So you’ll kiss me, and probably escalate things into a more serious physical territory, but you can’t promise me anything beyond that?”
“Exactly.”
“Can you promise me one thing?” I trail my fingers down through his beard.
“What?”
“Instead of vanishing on me, when you get too scared of the feelings I know I’m bound to develop for you, at least give me the decency of a heads-up before you dump me.”
He laughs, a quiet rumble. “I can promise you that much.”
“I can live with that.”
The need to kiss him has been percolating inside me since I got here, since he told me he’d ghosted me because he wanted me too much. And now, his hands on my waist, his lips brushing mine, the need boils over and I lift up onto my toes, slamming my lips against his. He grunts in surprise, and then his hands slide across my back and curl around my waist and gather me closer so my breasts flatten against his chest and our hips meet. I knot my fingers in his beard and tug him closer, opening my mouth to his.
