Page 66 of The Wedding Crush

“I’ll be here all week.” I flick my gaze upward, hoping to lighten the mood. “So, anyway, relax. We don’t have to tell anyone what we did. Or what we want to do,” I say, suggestively. “If we want to christen this city…shoot, the entire state of California, that’s our business, right?”

I flash him a reassuring smile.

A hot flush washes over my face when he doesn’t immediately volunteer for fun, wild Californication with me.

“Yeah,” Stefano says, absently. “No one has to know.”

And the empath strikes again.

I’m ruining this.

One question—about myWIG—and now, I’m emotionally involved.

The thing is, last night no one could’ve told me a thing about getting freaky on the side of a building, in a sketchy-looking alleyway, where anyone could’ve happened upon us.

After the way life has cranked us through the wringer…

We rightly deserve to throw caution to the wind. We were living guilt-free in the moment. It wasn’t about Justin or Carina. We were just two consenting adults, baring it all for one another. We were in control of our destiny. However, temporary.

Just us having fun.

But after we fixed our clothes and smoothed each other’s hair. After he outlined my lips with his thumb, and pressed a final, petal-soft kiss to them, my heart stuttered.

All I wanted was to do it again.

Ten other people were in the room talking and laughing, but Stefano’s voice was the only one I heard. Instead of getting him out of my system, I’d let him in. I forgot what it felt like to be lusted after. For every inch of me to tingle with awareness. I forgot how intoxicating it was to have a man cherish my body, as rough and as tender as I needed.

I’d messed up.

I knew it then, and I feel it now.

Sex aside, I forgot how opening up to a man who genuinely wants to understand me on a deeper level can leave me vulnerable.

I’m not in my twenties, clubbing and hooking up for fun.

That ship has sailed.

I know firsthand what marriage and kids entails.I knowhe’sfragile, too.So how do I explain forgetting that I never could do one-night stands?

Never.

One word: empath.

I feel. I am feelings. Worst of all, I’m other people’s feelings.

My head swims.

I don’t know what more to say. We tore down the physical barrier, and now I really want to try this—dating and getting to know each other on a deeper level. Even if we’ve got to do it in secret. He’s lying in my bed in all his naked glory, exposed and beautiful.

But does he want to try with me?

“Say something,” I whisper.

As I let my head rest back on my pillow with my insecurities lodged in my throat, Stefano lowers his head onto my chest. Slowly, tenderly he skates his fingertips over the curve of my hip. Then he replaces them with his mouth, brushing fire over my tender skin.

Desire coils low and tight in my belly.

Tossing away the covers, Stefano scoots down, centering himself between my thighs again.

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