He rearranged his mental list of places he’d been thinking about suggesting for the evening. “Fair enough.” He twirled the box for the wand she’d picked in his hand. “And then, after, dessert is on me.”
Kate stood before the mirror in the hotel room. Their hotel room. She swallowed hard, watching the way her throat moved in the foggy glass.
Except for a towel, she was naked.
After they’d gone into that store of his, they’d had a simple dinner, then swung by her hostel to check her out and grab her things. They’d been banal enough activities, but static had crackled in their air between them with every step, anticipation a hot, heavy thing in the hollow of her abdomen.
The previous night, she’d had a sense of where things might be going, but tonight, the whole way back, she’d known. He would strip her clothes off and put his mouth to her skin. Run those warm, careful fingers of his along the swells of her breasts and hips, dip them into the secret places she rarely showed to anyone. Her whole spine tingled, lit up with an equal mix of nerves and thrill.
He’d probably expect to have sex tonight. After he’d been so patient with her yesterday, how could he not? She still wasn’t so sure how she felt about letting him do that to her, but had been psyching herself up for it as they’d walked through the door.
Before he could start turning her to mush with little kisses up and down her neck, though, she’d broken away, insisting on a shower. Alone. If he was planning to be putting his mouth on her again—especially there, she wanted to be clean for him. And besides, she’d needed time to get her head on straight.
She’d stayed under the spray for as long as she’d dared. It still hadn’t been enough.
Picking up her brush, she focused her attention on the tangles in her hair. Her chest and face were flushed from the steam, and little beads of water still clung to her throat and the tops of her breasts. Setting the brush aside, she pushed the damp strands of her hair behind her shoulder. Grazed the tips of her fingers over her clavicle, letting her own touch linger.
Her anxiety was high, but she couldn’t deny it. She’d never felt so sexual before. She wanted this. And she just had to trust: If she were in Rylan’s hands . . . somehow, she’d be all right.
Before she could change her mind, she opened the door to the bathroom and walked out.
Rylan sat on the bed, elbows braced on his knees. He’d stripped off his jacket and his button-down, leaving him in an undershirt and jeans. Behind him, the covers had been turned back and a handful of pillows had been arranged as a cushion against the headboard.
His head snapped up as she emerged from behind the doorframe, and his gaze raked up and down her body. He licked his lips. “Feel better?”
“Yeah. Much.” She fought to keep her hands at her side. Not to reach up and fidget with her towel or hold it more securely across her breasts.
“Good.” He rose and strode forward to meet her, stopping shy of pulling her into an embrace. With one hand, he traced the edge of her face, then down over her shoulder, to the place where the towel gapped over the center of her chest. He didn’t pull at it, though. Didn’t move to reveal her any further. “You look edible.”
A full-body shudder moved through her. “You look good, too.” He always did.
And there was that smirk. “Go.” He gestured to the bed. “Lie down.”
He stroked her cheek again, then moved toward the chair near the entryway to pick up the bag from the sex store. Her face heated, but she didn’t comment. As he took their purchases with him to the bathroom, she turned to face the bed, ignoring that he was washing them up and probably filling them with batteries.
She still wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do with those things. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she had some experience with them. Her roommate her junior year of college had spoken about her vibrators rhapsodically and had been shocked when Kate had confessed to not knowing anything about them. At the time, she’d been involved with Aaron, so she hadn’t really thought much of it. He hadn’t ever succeeded in getting her off, but they only spent the night together a few times a week. She’d been able to find time to . . . attend to her needs when he hadn’t been around. But the idea of actually going so far as to procure sex toys had felt a little too much like admitting defeat.
After he’d fessed up to everything—after she’d walked away—defeat had pretty much been the order of the day.
Her first attempt at ordering a vibrator would probably have been comical if it hadn’t been so mortifying. After going back and forth on it a hundred times, though, she’d finally settled on one and clicked “buy” before she could stop herself. The thing had come in a plain brown package a few days later, and when her roommate had been gone, she’d locked the doors and turned on some music. And proceeded to have the best orgasm of her life.
Until last night.
Combining Rylan’s unnatural understanding of her body and the power of a couple of double A’s very well might kill her. Still, it was with reluctance that she clambered onto the bed. Her small, carefully chosen collection of little mechanical friends wasn’t something she talked about, much less shared with anyone else. She kept them hidden in pouches, tucked under pajamas and respectable novels and anything else she could toss into her nightstand drawer to make sure no one would ever find them. Rylan might act like they were no big deal, but to her, they’d always been a shameful secret—like the idea that she ever touched herself at all.
In the other room, the sound of the water running cut off. Showtime. Keeping the towel wrapped around her, she settled herself gingerly on the bed, pulling the sheet up to her waist. Was it too awkward to lie back against the mound of pillows he’d created? Should she have dried her hair?
Before she could obsess too much or work herself up, Rylan reemerged from the bathroom. “Comfy?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
No. “Yup.”
The corner of his mouth crept upward, showing just how little he believed her, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead, he crossed the room to her. Pushing the covers down partway, he spread a towel on the mattress beside her, then laid out the things he’d decided they should buy. Everything about his demeanor was practical and casual, as if this were something normal people did every day.
Her breathing sped a hair faster. Maybe this was something he did every day.
“Hey.”
She looked up at him. Felt the warmth of his touch against her bare arm, and it helped relax her, pulling her down from the edge of neuroticism she’d been in danger of going over. The best she could, she pushed her worries and fears aside. Yes, this kind of stuff made her nervous and embarrassed. Yes, Rylan had a lot more experience than she did. But that was okay. He knew what he was getting into. And through everything they’d done together, he’d never seemed to mind having to take the lead before.
Letting out a long, deep sigh, she put her hand over his and gave him a weak smile. “Sorry. Just nervous.”
He leaned in to kiss the point of her shoulder. “Don’t be. Only good things are going to happen here.”
Right. It was hard to believe after all the ways she’d been beaten down, but Rylan hadn’t given her any reason not to trust him yet. “Okay.”
“Here.” He nudged at her. “Scoot forward a bit.”
She rearranged herself at his direction, only realizing as he climbed onto the bed that he was maneuvering to sit behind her.
“Aren’t you going to—?” She cut herself off.
“Hmm?”
He had taken off his socks and shoes, but other than that, he was still basically dressed.
“I—” God, why was this all so hard for her to talk about? “I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked.”