Page 35 of Space Oddities

I clear my throat, sounding primmer that I mean to. “Don’t you have work?”

“Mmm,” he hums against the back of my neck, sending a line of warmth between my legs.

An early riser myself, the few days I spent in the trailer, I was awake before Ian’s garage door went up, signaling his departure for the day. Even sleeping in his queen-sized luxurious guest bed, I still woke early, enjoying stretching out across the large expanse of mattress. Though today, by how much light is coming in through the unadorned windows, it’s a safe bet to say we’re both getting a later start than usual.

The forearm touching my ribcage shifts, Ian’s palm planting into the bed by my stomach so he can prop himself up. Adjusting my head slightly, I look up at him, studying him as he reads the clock on the nightstand by my side of the bed.

“Shit.” His full lips poof out like a toddler.

That surprises a laugh out of me, the man looming over me a different version from the perfectly tailored one I’m used to. Blond hair sticks up on one side, sheet marks line his cheek, and morning stubble is peppered across his jaw. He looks well-worn and downright adorable.

“What’s so funny?” Dimples popping, Ian’s pout turns into a grin.

I know what happens next. I write about what happens next. Ian is the good guy, not wanting to take advantage of me being sleepy, just like a man waiting until a woman is sober to make the decision on whether or not to have sex. Consent is key.

But now, with the sunlight streaming in, my mind clear of sleep, now he’ll take things further. And though I should be wary, though I should say no, I won’t. My willpower is gone, my desire for this man who has done nothing but care for me overtaking any reservations I had. Last night I appreciated how much he held back from asking. I appreciated how much he didn’t hold back from telling.

I’m going to show him just how much I appreciate him.

Giving him my best seductive smile, I turn fully on my back. Reaching up, I palm the side of his cheek, my thumb sweeping over a dimple. “’Morning.”

Arms still on either side of me, he does a push up, kissing me swiftly on the way down before popping up. “Morning, cutie pie.” Then he’s bounding out of bed and walking to the bathroom.

Wait, what?

I stare at the closed bathroom door, confused. That’s it?

My thighs shift under the covers, my lady garden also confused. And pissed.

I mean, we opened up to each other. He watched a girlie, foreign, romantic drama with me. He carried me to his room. Heck, he even spooned me all night. All for a cuddle and a morning peck on the lips?

Sexis supposed to come next. It’s in all the books.

If I’d set up a scene like that and then just had the hero nonchalantly head off to work, my readers wouldkillme.

Is he not in the mood? I frown into the stream of morning light filtering in from the windows, thinking of the lead pipe I felt against my back when I woke. That’s not it.

Is he still holding back, being polite? Does he think I’m a virgin? For goodness sake, we did a lot more than spooning by the pool yesterday. That can’t be it.

The shower turns on in the en-suite behind me.

Do I really have to lie here, unsatisfied, while Captain freaking America is naked in the next room?

I’m finallyready.

Throwing off my sheets, I stalk to the bathroom door, heels heavy on the floor, ready to demand orgasms.

A glimpse of myself in the mirror above the dresser makes me pause, my hand on the door handle. I’m flushed, hair wild, an unusual gleam in my eyes. What is it? Frustration? No. Desire? No. And then it hits me, making me stumble back from the door, sitting my rear on the side of the bed.

Need.

The look in my eyes was need. Yes, I’m frustrated. Yes, desire is running through me. But what propelled that frustration and desire, what had me about to throw myself at a man, wasneed. The need to continue like we have been. Laughing, teasing, holding each other. If I went to Ian now, I’d be offering much more than a one-night stand. And I can’t do that. It isn’t safe.

And besides, Ian deserves much more than that.

I stand, backtracking, my bare feet light across the hardwood, willing my mind away from thoughts of his wet, naked body. Of his smile from across the food truck picnic table. Of his understanding look as I share moments of my past, of the feel of him spooning against me.

I got too comfortable in this bubble we created by happenstance.

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