Page 25 of On Thin Ice

“I can buy you new clothing, by the way.”

Where had that come from? “My clothes are fine.”

He didn’t say anything else about them as I began hobbling toward the bathroom. Until I’d stood, I hadn’t noticed that the pain from losing my virginity was far more than I’d expected. It hurt far less when I didn’t move. He asked, “Can I help?”

“No, I’m okay.”

But when I returned from the bathroom with all my clothes gathered up, he said, “We can’t have you moving around like that. Edna will ask questions.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

He smiled, pulling me into an embrace, the clothes in my arms preventing us from getting too close. “You’ll take a sick day. I’ll let Edna know you’ve texted me that you’re not feeling well, so you’re taking the day off from work.”

“But what about meals? It will still be obvious when I go to the kitchen.”

The way he looked at me made me want to do whatever he asked, no matter how silly. “You’re sick in bed. Edna will bring the food to you.”

“Okay.”

He kissed me on the forehead and swatted me on the bottom. “So you’d better get in bed.”

I frowned. One day, I wanted to watch him get ready. I wanted to see him work out, then shower and shave, groom every hair into place. I wanted to see how he chose his suit for the day and watch as he put on everything, covering up that rock-hard body and that dick I was beginning to think of as mine.

But that would have to wait for another day.

“Okay. Have a good day at work.”

“I always do.” His smile nearly wrecked me—until I had to make that trek down the hall. Yeah…having him inside me again was going to have to wait a day or two.

After checking my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I sent Sinclair a real text message, asking if he or Edna could also retrieve my laptop from downstairs. He texted back, It’s a sick day. You shouldn’t be working.

I couldn’t help but sass a little. I won’t be working. I’m going to submit my application to DU.

That can wait until tomorrow.

And, as usual, his say was final. Or I’d let him think as much. But it would not wait until tomorrow. If he wouldn’t bring the laptop, I’d complete the application with my phone. Although it would take a little longer, I considered myself fairly adept at doing things on mobile just as well if not better than on a computer.

If that didn’t work, I’d sneak downstairs to get it myself. If Edna caught me, I’d just say I wanted a cup of hot tea and company.

But I knew she would be in my room soon with breakfast, so I had to figure out what my supposed malady was—and I settled on tummy troubles. It would be far easier to fake a stomachache than it would be a cold or flu, and I’d never had a cold in August anyway.

Meanwhile, I was still wearing Sinclair’s oversized white t-shirt. That wouldn’t do. I grabbed the short nightgown I’d worn the night before last and put it on, tucking Sinclair’s shirt in a drawer.

As I sat there waiting, my mind drifted back to the night before. If someone had told me two months ago that I would fall in love with—and be intimate with—Sinclair Whittier, I would have told them they were crazy.

But it was true. I was falling in love with him. That said, it wasn’t unconditional. If I had to choose between him and my father, I’d choose my dad.

But if I had to choose between a life alone and being with Sinclair, it was an easy decision. Although these feelings that had grown overnight from interest, intrigue, and lust into something far more significant, they were strong. I’d never felt like I did right now about another man. It was consuming.

As if watching a movie in my mind, I replayed every moment—from the bath to snuggling in bed—and I decided I needed to be responsible. I would have to get on some form of birth control soon. I was glad Sinclair had used a condom, and I tried not to think about why he had one at the ready—but, more importantly, I knew if I planned to be sexually active, I needed to take precautions as well. Because, as I thought again about last night, I knew I would have probably had him take my virginity anyway, even if he hadn’t had protection.

I didn’t want to get caught off guard ever.

I also knew there was a possibility that maybe this was just another game—but I didn’t think so. Based on past experiences with him, it would be easy to assume that he simply liked the idea of having a young woman nearby to fuck whenever he wanted, and I couldn’t help but forget the time he’d offered to cut my sentence in half if I would do just that.

So, yes, in the back of my mind, I recognized that this was possibly a way for Sinclair to have his cake and eat it too. But I couldn’t quite accept that notion…because the man I’d seen last night had been vulnerable, tender…loving.

Could that have been an act?

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