It’s the strength of my desire that scares me, that makes me want to distance myself.
He doesn’t say anything about my sudden tension, instead he nods. “That’s a lot of church.”
“It is. My brother and sister are eight and six years older than me. They live in the same town we grew up in, within two miles of my parents’ house, and are just as devout. I’ve never asked, but I think I was a surprise baby.”
He smiles and squeezes me a little. “In more ways than one, I’m sure.”
The wine has gone to my head and I hold out my hands. “This is what you get for not using birth control.”
He laughs, a rich hearty sound. He tilts his head. “So we’re both rebels.” His fingers work under my jeans leg.
I rest my head on my open palm. “Can a software developer be a rebel?”
“Oh yes.” He strokes over my skin and heat sears up my leg.
Our eyes meet and I blurt, “I guess you think that explains my sex problems.”
He cocks a brow. “Do you think it explains your sex problems?”
I break the contact to stare into my glass, the dark red liquid a gentle sway. “I don’t think it helps. All that godliness, even though I’m not like that, seeped into my brain.”
“I can understand that.”
I frown; the alcohol has made my tongue loose. “It’s not like they even said sex was bad, but I was required to be upstanding, a proper minister’s daughter. They preached abstinence in school, and the dangers of sin. I didn’t buy a word of it, but somehow it made its way into my subconscious.”
“So is there a part of you that thinks sex is bad?” His voice is gentle when he speaks, his words followed by another stroke of his fingers over my ankle.
I swallow, thinking about the question. “Not exactly.” I bite my lip. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t relax.”
He shifts on the couch, puts his glass on the table, and then takes mine and puts it down as well. I watch him with wary eyes, unsure of what he’s going to do and on guard.
“Do you feel relaxed with me?” He moves and pats my hip. “Scooch over.”
I slide to the edge of the couch, that’s deeper than most I’ve been on, and he squeezes in next to me, putting his hand on my stomach.
I suck in my breath. “Sometimes?”
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “I know you’re not now.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?” His thumb traces over my ribs and I barely breathe.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
His hand skims up my body, trailing between the valley of my breasts before he cups my jaw. “We’re going to talk. I’m going to kiss you. And at some point I’ll send you home.”
I don’t want to go home. The notion surprises me. I’ve always reveled in my own space. But there’s something about Chad’s home that invites me in and makes me want to stay. I nod. “Okay.”
“I promise I won’t take it any further.” He brushes his lips over mine, before scraping his teeth over my lower lip.
The gasp that escapes is involuntary.
He does it again before saying against my mouth, “I like when you make that hot, needy little sound.”
Pleasure races through my bloodstream at his words, mixing with the alcohol and making me dizzy. When his mouth passes over mine again, I catch his lips, wanting him to stay. He deepens the kiss, sucking me under. There’s no slowness, no lazy pull. No, it’s instantly hot.
His tongue touches mine. Our lips tangle, slide together, part only to reclaim.
His fingers wrap around my throat.
The feel of his hands pushes my body into overdrive. Another whimper escapes my throat. I clutch his arm as I cling to his lips with mine.
He slants his head, deepening the connection between us, his leg slides over me, parts my thighs. I shift, turning toward him to feel the pressure of his body against mine.
I don’t know if it’s because I trust him, believe his promise, or I just want him, but it’s like I’m on fire. I begin to squirm against him, my
He doesn’t say anything about my sudden tension, instead he nods. “That’s a lot of church.”
“It is. My brother and sister are eight and six years older than me. They live in the same town we grew up in, within two miles of my parents’ house, and are just as devout. I’ve never asked, but I think I was a surprise baby.”
He smiles and squeezes me a little. “In more ways than one, I’m sure.”
The wine has gone to my head and I hold out my hands. “This is what you get for not using birth control.”
He laughs, a rich hearty sound. He tilts his head. “So we’re both rebels.” His fingers work under my jeans leg.
I rest my head on my open palm. “Can a software developer be a rebel?”
“Oh yes.” He strokes over my skin and heat sears up my leg.
Our eyes meet and I blurt, “I guess you think that explains my sex problems.”
He cocks a brow. “Do you think it explains your sex problems?”
I break the contact to stare into my glass, the dark red liquid a gentle sway. “I don’t think it helps. All that godliness, even though I’m not like that, seeped into my brain.”
“I can understand that.”
I frown; the alcohol has made my tongue loose. “It’s not like they even said sex was bad, but I was required to be upstanding, a proper minister’s daughter. They preached abstinence in school, and the dangers of sin. I didn’t buy a word of it, but somehow it made its way into my subconscious.”
“So is there a part of you that thinks sex is bad?” His voice is gentle when he speaks, his words followed by another stroke of his fingers over my ankle.
I swallow, thinking about the question. “Not exactly.” I bite my lip. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t relax.”
He shifts on the couch, puts his glass on the table, and then takes mine and puts it down as well. I watch him with wary eyes, unsure of what he’s going to do and on guard.
“Do you feel relaxed with me?” He moves and pats my hip. “Scooch over.”
I slide to the edge of the couch, that’s deeper than most I’ve been on, and he squeezes in next to me, putting his hand on my stomach.
I suck in my breath. “Sometimes?”
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “I know you’re not now.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?” His thumb traces over my ribs and I barely breathe.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
His hand skims up my body, trailing between the valley of my breasts before he cups my jaw. “We’re going to talk. I’m going to kiss you. And at some point I’ll send you home.”
I don’t want to go home. The notion surprises me. I’ve always reveled in my own space. But there’s something about Chad’s home that invites me in and makes me want to stay. I nod. “Okay.”
“I promise I won’t take it any further.” He brushes his lips over mine, before scraping his teeth over my lower lip.
The gasp that escapes is involuntary.
He does it again before saying against my mouth, “I like when you make that hot, needy little sound.”
Pleasure races through my bloodstream at his words, mixing with the alcohol and making me dizzy. When his mouth passes over mine again, I catch his lips, wanting him to stay. He deepens the kiss, sucking me under. There’s no slowness, no lazy pull. No, it’s instantly hot.
His tongue touches mine. Our lips tangle, slide together, part only to reclaim.
His fingers wrap around my throat.
The feel of his hands pushes my body into overdrive. Another whimper escapes my throat. I clutch his arm as I cling to his lips with mine.
He slants his head, deepening the connection between us, his leg slides over me, parts my thighs. I shift, turning toward him to feel the pressure of his body against mine.
I don’t know if it’s because I trust him, believe his promise, or I just want him, but it’s like I’m on fire. I begin to squirm against him, my
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