Page 7 of False Start
“Jesus,” he muttered, catching up to me a moment later.
“Should we get an Uber?”
“No need. It’s only two blocks that way. Unless your shoes are hurting?”
I glanced at my feet. The stilettos I’d matched with my dress this morning were my old faithfuls. Cute and worn in, I’d forgotten I was wearing them until he mentioned it.
“I’m fine. Lead the way.”
Less than five minutes later, we walked up to a well-appointed apartment building with keycode access. Once inside, we took the elevator to the top floor, and once again, Weston keyed in a code to give us access to the door on the right.
As he hit the lights, a beautiful open floorplan was revealed. Deeply stained wooden floorboards stretched across the expanse of a combination living room/kitchen layout with perfectly placed furniture and tasteful art decorating the walls.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked as I sank into the butter-soft cream leather sofa.
“Yes, please. Whatever you’re having.”
I tugged the hem of my dress down over my knees as he retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge and took a seat beside me.
“This place is beautiful,” I said, accepting a drink.
Now that we were alone, the mood had shifted. Slowed.
Maybe he had asked if I was still interested because he had been having second thoughts.
“Do you still want me?”
Weston’s head snapped toward me, his brow furrowed like he’d lost the thread of the conversation.
“Yes. Very much so. But only if you’re comfortable. What made you think I might not?”
Apparently, I’d misread the situation again.
Stupid Georgia.
“I guess because we’ve gone backward. From making out back to drinking. It’s okay if you’re bored now. Just tell me, and I’ll go.”
The beer bottle was cool in my hand. Condensation made the glass slick as I picked at the edge of the label, unwilling to meet Weston’s eye.
A thunk on the table in front of us preceded his hand entering my eyeline long enough to take the beer from my hand. There was a second thunk as my bottle joined his and then there was a whole lot of man in my field of view.
“I was trying to be polite,” he murmured, cupping my face and forcing my eyes to meet his.
“You’re incredibly beautiful, and I’ve been hard since we walked through the door. I want nothing more than to learn every inch of your body and fuck you until neither one of us can move, but the reality is that regardless of what we told your acquaintance today, we’re strangers. I want you to be comfortable, and a willing participant. Not someone who got themselves into a situation, then felt obligated to follow through with because they’d come this far. You’re safe with me, Georgia. If you say stop at any point, I want you to know I will.”
“Oh,” I whispered, a little overwhelmed by his honesty.
I’d never been told I could say no.
And now that I had permission, I didn’t feel the need to use it.
Before I could overthink the situation again, I gripped his knee. “Tell me more about how you want to learn my body?”
His rumbling laugh cut off as he pressed his lips to mine, picking up from where we left off earlier. With a quick shift, he laid me out on the sofa, stretching out above me as he slowly stole my mind with his talented tongue.
He hadn’t lied about his erection. It pressed insistently into my lower belly as he moved away from my mouth, pressing warm kisses along my cheekbones and toward my ear.
“Fuck, your skin is so soft. I can’t wait to taste every inch of you.”
