Page 45 of Almost Love

She tried to move away, but Oakley’s grip held firm. Even though she didn’t usually like all this touching and holding, she had to admit that she liked the way it felt with him.

“Do you regret last night?”

She stared at him for a long moment, then whispered, “Last night was perfect.Youwere great.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, finally dragging her finger along his jaw. “Romance novels talk a lot about how kissing and holding hands, or touching andbeingwith someone can be quite exciting. I always thought that was stupid, because people don’t always make me feel that way.” She refused to meet his eyes, her finger following the shape of his mouth. “But last night, you made me feel comfortable and safe.”

“All I want from you is what you’re willing to give me.”

“I know,” she said, staring into his eyes. “And it’s tomorrow, so I guess we’re going to figure out what all of that means.”

She tried to wriggle away again, but he pulled her closer, lining their bodies up. “What exactly do you want from me? From this arrangement?”

The question shouldn’t have stumped her, but Clementine frowned as she tried to piece together her answer. When she’d been horny baking, she believed that sex was the only solution—orgasms, pleasure and everything that came with it. But after last night, she wanted so much more. She wanted to feel like she did when he had his mouth against her neck, the sparks running up and down her spine. She wanted to know what it felt like if that same mouth was wrapped around her breast in place of his hand. She wanted to feel all kinds of pleasure, even without everything else being involved.

She wanted Oakley, in every version she could have him.

There was a part of Clementine that was worried she might not know how to separate sexual attraction from emotional feelings. But he was there, he wanted to help her and she was going to help him too—mutual satisfaction and pleasure. It would be nothing else. Just sex, learning how to pleasure herself and someone else. Once she’d gotten everything she needed, they would walk away. If she did learn to appreciate masturbation, she’d be very prepared the next time she had a bout of horny baking.

“Clementine…”

“Hmm…what were you saying?”

He looked at her for a long moment and then said, “What do you need from me and this arrangement?”

Even though she knew what she was going to say, she hesitated. Then softly said, “Everything.”

Thirty minutes later she was flipping pancakes while coffee brewed. He’d nodded at her admission and fallen back asleep. Clementine had watched him for a few minutes before she slid out of bed. She left him one of her large T-shirts and made herself scarce.

As she cooked, she thought about everything they’d discussed. Sex was still on the table, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. Something told her that neither was Oakley. He took her panic in stride and the gentle way they communicated told her that they’d figure it out together. The strings might have gotten attached and it could imply getting to know the other person, while sex played a bigger role in their relationship.

Draw the invisible line in the sand, as it were.

With the pancakes stacked, she checked on the coffee. She could have used the French press, but that morning deserved her favorite kind. She split the coffee into two tumblers, added sugar and stirred slightly, then filled it up with milk. Smiling at the perfect color, she set the tumblers into their respective davaras and set it on the counter just as Oakley appeared, startling her.

“Shit! Oh god,” she gasped, hands flying to her chest.

“Sorry, thought I was dragging my feet loud enough.”

Shaking her head, Clementine dropped her hands and looked him over. He had on his jeans, but traded his green T-shirt for the black one she’d left out. Biting her lip, she tilted her head and didn’t bother hiding that she was checking him out. “Looks good on you,” she muttered, because it really did. The sleeves stretched around his biceps and molded to his chest. With his hair sticking up and eyes still sleepy behind his glasses, Oakleywas incredibly distracting. “Really good,” Clementine added, licking her lips.

Calm the fuck down, you hussy!

At his chuckle, she turned away embarrassed. But then he was right behind her, voice deliciously rough and gravelly. “If seeing me in your clothes gets you all worked up, imagine what seeing you in nothing would do to me. Don’t even get me started on what you’re wearing right now. Jesus, Clem, the shorts don’t even cover your ass.”

A snort escaped her. “Figured if my black dress didn’t get you all hot and bothered, these might.”

“Seeing you in your pastel coats gets me hot and bothered. You don’t have to try very hard.”

She looked over her shoulder and met his steady stare. He’d hinted at things like that before, but still, hearing him and seeing the sincerity in his face made her warm all over. Oakley was standing as close as he had been the night before, except his arms weren’t caging her in. Now, that was all she wanted. There was something so powerful about the way he held himself, but not in a threatening or controlling kind of way. She’d seen different sides of him in the last twelve hours and she liked them all, but she was eager to see what he would be like slightly unglued.

“Breakfast,” she said, proud of herself for not breathing out the words, considering she could barely think straight with him so close.

He nodded, stepped around the counter to pull out the stools and sat down. She took the second stool and didn’t think twice before she served the pancakes, poured the syrup and slid the toppings over to him before fixing her own plate. It was only when the silence continued that she noticed he was watching her with a smile.

“What?”

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