Page 43 of A Christmas Road Trip

“No. And I want...” I gulp. “I really want to try this. I want to... be with you like this.”

He makes a weird helpless sound and pulls my head down into another kiss. We kiss for a long time. Deep and passionate and ravenous. Until he’s hard in his jeans and I’m grinding against him shamelessly. One of his hands is holding the back of my thigh, curved in toward where I’m hotly aroused.

I’ve never known I could be like this. Openly needy and not even embarrassed about it.

I’m stroking his bare skin under his T-shirt, and I move my hand down to feel his erection beneath the soft, thin denim.

He grunts and turns his head out of the kiss, gasping raggedly.

I lift my head, hot and dazed. “What’s the matter?”

“Let’s take a break for a minute here.” He sounds stretched, almost desperate.

I move my hand from his groin immediately and sit up. I hate climbing off him since my body hasn’t gotten what it needs, but I’d never dream of pushing him. Not in a million years would I do that. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He gives that soft, self-deprecating laugh and props himself up more. “Yeah, I’m good. But I think we’d better... hold off for now.”

I bite my lip, immediately hurt by a stab of rejection. I thought—I was sure—he was as into this as I am. “Oh. Okay.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He rubs at his face, like he’s trying to wake himself up.

“It’s fine. I thought... but if you don’t want to do more—”

“Of course I want to do more. I want to do everything. I want it more than anything.” His face contorts strangely.

That clench of pain relaxes inside me. “Okay. I’m... glad. So what are you worried about then?”

“I just think we should... take a little longer before we have sex.” He meets my eyes and then looks away. “You’re being impulsive, and I’m totally with you. But it’s still new. For us. And in the past, the times you’ve been impulsive, you’ve often ended up... regretting it afterward.” He’s stumbling over the words.

“So you think...” I don’t finish the thought. He’s afraid I’m going to end up regretting this.

“And I’m not okay with that. Having sex with you and then you regretting it afterward. I’m okay with going slow. I’m okay with kissing you as much as you want. I’m okay with trying things out until you can see if this might be what you want. I’m okay with all of that. But I’m not okay with having sex with you and then having you wish we hadn’t.” He’s searching my face now, urgently looking for a sign of how I’m responding.

It hurts. It does. There’s no denying it. He’s applying brakes when I want to rush forward.

But he’s always been smarter than I am about people. About relationships. About us. And I can see he’s worried—terrified—that we’re going to do something we regret later.

And he’s right. That would be terrible. It would be the very worst thing.

“Okay. I get it. I understand.”

“You do?” He reaches over to push aside some of my hair.

“Yeah. You’re right. We promised we weren’t going to mess up our relationship, and going slow is the best way not to do that.”

He lets out a long exhale. Almost a groan. “You know it’s not because I don’t want to—”

“I know. I really do.” It’s impossible not to see—in vivid, concrete reality—how much Chase wants me. How turned on he is. It’s not about not wanting this. It’s about being smart.

I thought, for once, I might not have to be smart, but I was silly.

I was wrong.

Of course we have to be smart. When other people’s well-being is on the line. Always.

“All right.” He leans over and brushes a light kiss on my mouth. “You all right if I take a quick shower?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” I smile at him. Warm and genuine. “Kind of funny that I’m supposed to be the careful one.”

---