Page 103 of Brooklynaire
Removing her sweatpants, she takes the elastic of her panties between two fingers and snaps it onto her own hip. “Cotton panties during shark week, though. You left your palatial suite fornothing.”
“That isnottrue.” I pull back the comforter and kick off my sweatpants. I get into the bed, but there’s a problem. “I’m on the wrongside.”
“You have aside?”
“Left-handed guy on the left.” I push her back against the pillows and climb over her body, which makes her giggle. Then I shut out the light on my side and lie down, my arms open. “Comehere.”
She turns off the other lamp and then tucks her body against mine, allowing me to fold her into myarms.
“That’s better,” I whisper. “This is what I camefor.”
“Okay.” Rebecca snuggles closer andsighs.
“You don’t trust me yet,” I whisper. Then I kiss her on the temple. “But youwill.”
“I trust you,” sheargues.
“You trust me not to be a dick. You trust mewithmy dick.” She smiles. “But you don’t think you could loveme.”
She goes still in my arms. “I didn’t say that. Ineversaidthat.”
I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I’m not an easy man. But my gut tells me our problems are different than the ones I had with Juliet. “Maybe you think I couldn’t love you. Is thatit?”
“Maybe,” shewhispers.
“Why?”
“Because we are so different.” She’s speaking so quietly I almost can’thear.
“I don’t like shopping at Bloomingdale’s. But otherwise we like a lot of the same things. Alien movies. Street food. Let’s not forgethockey.”
“Nate,” she says quietly. “Don’t be dense. You’re a genius and an Ivy League grad. And the head of a Fortune 500 company. I’mnot.”
“There is nothing stupid about you, though. Not one thing. And leaving school wasn’t yourfault.”
She doesn’t say a word, which doesn’t say much for my debatingskills.
“Look, Bec. I don’t have a PowerPoint to explain why I need you. I just do. I have for a while now, but apparently I’m not the sharpest scalpel on the tray after all, because it took me too long to say so. But here I am in your bed. I came downstairs because I like your smile and I wanted to see it before I went to sleep. And I’d like to do that as often as I can, if you’ll letme…”
This rambling sermon is cut off when Becca pushes up on an elbow and kisses me. And it’s a good one. Soft lips come down over mine, and she sighs sweetly as she fits our mouths more firmlytogether.
Parting my lips beneath hers, I invite her in. She accepts, kissing me very,verythoroughly. My Becca might be conflicted, but she’s not indifferent. I run my hands down her silky nighty, wishing I could peel it off of her. Her curves beckon, and it’s difficult to behave myself. The struggle isreal.
By the time she lifts her face from mine, we’re both breathing hard. “You scare me,” she whispers in the dark. “And I’m not used to beingscared.”
Oh.
I trace the top of her nightie with a fingertip, crossing the swells of her breasts. “I’m not scary. I’m not even very complicated. But I can be patient until you figure that out.” Actually, we both know that patience isn’t my strong suit. But I can try. I wantto.
She kisses me on the ear. “Now I got you all worked up.” Her hand slides down on to my fly, where my very hard cock is tenting my boxers. “What are we going to do aboutthat?”
“Not a thing.” I push her hand away. “I’m used to being worked up over you. I was for years. Thought it was a permanentcondition.”
“Oh, Nate,” she laughs. “That can’t really betrue.”
“Sure it is.” I can’t stop touching her, so I palm the curve between her hip and her ribs. “I mean, I didn’t allow myself to lie around fantasizing about you. But whenever we were in the same room I’d get distracted. These days? I’m all about the fantasies. In my dreams we’ve had sex in every civilized country. And much of the developingworld.”
Rebecca snorts. “Really? What’s your favoritefantasy?”
