Page 54 of Adrift

I can’t say it didn’t bother me when she told me about her being a virgin, because it did. It was another reminder of the differences between us–age and stage in life. I didn’t know how to take her words when she said she wouldn’t have regrets if I was the one to take her virginity. On one hand, I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching her–taking what was mine–but on the other, I felt like a bastard for wanting to desecrate someone so fucking innocent and beautiful.

I know which side will eventually win.

There’s no fucking question about it.

She takes a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes for a moment. “Mmm. This is perfect.” She examines my profile like she’s trying to find something under my skin. “You’ve been watching me. Restocking the Funyuns and the ice cream, keeping the house a little warmer because you saw me wearing my fuzzy socks and long-sleeved shirt, and now you’re making me the perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way I take it.”

I meet her eyes, standing face to face with her, when she scoots in just a little closer. Her coffee cup held between us–like some sacred potion–is the only thing that keeps her chest from meeting mine. The backs of her arms brush against me, tilting her chin up at me, awaiting a response to all her accusations.

“I couldn’t miss you with my eyes closed, Rani,” I murmur.

She presses her lips together, holding in a smile, but I see the blush creep up her face. “You’re pretty hard to miss, too, Mr. Meyer.”

She turns, putting her precious cup on the counter and takes the plate of eggs I made, shoveling a couple of forkfuls into her mouth.

I eye her flowery dress, noting the purse and camera she brought down and left on the table. “Where are you going?”

“To the nursing home. Today is Anabelle’s eighty-fifth birthday, and we’re all decorating cupcakes in her honor.” She takes another sip of her coffee, watching me. “How did you sleep?”

I scoop up some eggs on my fork, turning to watch my son sing while he continues to eat, before talking into my plate. “Shitty.’

Rani’s gaze turns concerned. “Bad dreams again?”

I shake my head. “Good ones.”

She gives me a smug smile that I want to kiss right off her face. “Were they about me? Want to tell me about them?”

I just stare at her; it’s like my brain freezes whenever I’m around her.

When I don’t offer an answer, she faces me again and squints. “You know, as much as I have an unhealthy fascination with your blank expressions and those lips that seem to do nothing but lay in a permanent frown on your face, I wouldn’t mind seeing a smile here and there.”

My lips twitch, if only to irritate her more. Leaning down, I brush her face with the side of mine before finding her ear and revel in the shiver that travels through her. “I’m pretty sure you have a decent idea of the other things my lips can do, don’t you think?”

She lets out a staggered breath. “Yes . . ..” Her eyes get a faraway look in them before she grazes her face against mine again and whispers, “No.”

“No?”

She shakes her head. “I mean, I have an idea, but by all means,” she swallows, “if you have more you want to do . . ..” She trails off like she’s imagining all the things I’ve been telepathically planting in her head.

My lips are right above hers. “What I want to do and what I should do, based on our little agreement, are two very different things. For example, what I want to do is take you upstairs and fill you up with my tongue and my cock so you’ll be dripping my spit and cum for days.”

She gasps, her eyes giving away the shock and lust building behind them.

“But I wouldn’t call that going slow,” I add with a raised brow. I inch closer, my lips almost laying on hers. “So, unless you’ve changed your mind . . ..”

“You,” she says breathlessly, pressing her finger into my chest, “are not playing fair, Mr. Meyer.”

I chuckle, closing the millimeter of space between us with my lips. I taste her after an entire night of dreaming about doing it again. I suck on her bottom lip, teasing her, before bringing my hands to cup her face. Her eyes close as she opens her mouth to let me pull her into a deeper kiss, and I do so wholeheartedly, tightening dangerously inside my pants.

God, she tastes delicious. So much so that I reconsider my stance on coffee.

I’ve wanted her–thought about this–since the minute I got into my bed last night. I’d wondered what this morning was going to be like. Were things going to be awkward in the daylight, cured of the carnal hunger the night seems to breed? Were we going to have another conversation about what had happened? Was she going to withdraw? Was I going to be able to handle not touching her again?

My mind had buzzed with anticipation and anxiety before I succumbed to a frustrated sleep. But my worries dissipated the minute I saw her smile this morning. I still don’t know how I’m going to take this slow–physically or emotionally–and I have to question my sanity when agreeing to do so, but I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who’s having a hard time with it.

Pulling her into me by her waist, I linger another kiss on her lips and meet her deep chocolaty-browns. “Who said this was ever going to be fair?”

Chapter Twenty

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