He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I want you, Chloe, but I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.”
Regret? The only thing she regretted was that she was going to have to tell him the truth. That he was the one who’d end up with a pile of regrets if this went any further, not her.
“I’m not very...” Her throat closed up, and she had to fight to get the words out. “I can’t.... I don’t want you to be...”
Disappointed.
He cupped her face. “I won’t be. Even if it goes no further than this.”
Surely that wasn’t the truth. But as she continued to look at him, she saw nothing but raw sincerity reflected back at her. How could that be? He was still hard against her leg. His breathing not quite steady. Would he really be okay if she called a halt to it right here?
Something inside her said he would.
She took a deep breath. “I want it to.”
His fingertips brushed her cheek. “You want it to what?”
“Go further than this.”
His eyes darkened. “Are you sure?”
“If you promise not to...” How could she put it into words? She didn’t honestly think he’d make fun of her afterwards, but she didn’t want him to get part way into it and then realize she was so not what he was hoping for. “I want to try. But I don’t know if I can.”
“Chloe, look at me.”
She thought she had been. But she found the center of his pupil and focused.
There was an intensity swirling inside it she hadn’t noticed before.
“The second you start to feel differently, I want you to tell me, and we’ll stop.”
She wouldn’t tell him. She never did.
His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Promise me.”
And admit she was a failure? Again? She shook her head.
To her surprise, Brad sat up, dragging a hand through his hair and swearing softly under his breath.
She caught his hand before he could get up and walk away. “Please don’t go.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Did she really believe that? That the act itself wouldn’t hurt? No. But even if there was some kind of physical discomfort, she knew that he would never wound her deep down inside, where it really mattered.
“Then promise me.”
“I—I... It’s too embarrassing.” She averted her eyes.
“You don’t have to use words. If you don’t like something I’m doing, hold onto me like this...” he gripped her arms “...and push. That’ll be my signal to back off. It’s that easy. And I’ll be okay with it. I promise.”
“Are you sure?”
“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“No.”
He leaned down and kissed her lips. “Okay. Your turn. Promise me.”
She waited long seconds before she got up the nerve to say it. “I promise.”
* * *
At her words Brad released the tension that had been steadily building in his jaw. He wanted this woman more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life. And he’d just promised to stop the second she gave his arms a little squeeze. He hoped to hell he actually could. It had taken almost every ounce of his strength to sit up when she’d shaken her head and refused to agree to his terms. But he’d found the willpower then, and he would find it again if it came down to it. But right now all he wanted to do was kiss that beautiful mouth all over again.
The second his lips lingered on hers, a sigh rippled through her chest as if she’d been waiting her whole life for this. The thought inflamed him, made him want to take her in a rush, but he pushed the need aside and instead savored the way she returned his kisses, reveled in the tiny sounds she made when he lifted his head to move somewhere else. How could any man in his right mind call her frigid?
Chloe was anything but.
Instead, there was an untapped innocence about her that he’d never thought he’d find sexy—until now. Virgins need not apply had always been his motto.
He didn’t need the headaches or the complications. But this was something very different. And he found himself wanting to break all his self-made rules to have her.
Just this once.
Chloe wasn’t looking for another husband. And he certainly wasn’t looking for anything lasting either.
Maybe he was as untouched as Chloe was, in some ways. And that thought made him tighten all over again.
Her hands on his shoulders pulled him back to her, until they were breast to chest. He eased away just long enough to recline beside her again, then wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck and breathing her scent deep into his lungs. When her head shifted slightly once or twice, he leaned back and frowned, then realized her ponytail was pressing against the cushions.
That couldn’t be comfortable. “Let me get that.”
He tilted her head to the side, finding the elastic and sliding the loops—one at a time—over the length of hair. His fingers pushed into the thick, glossy strands and set them free. “Better?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “Do you want to go into the bedroom?”
He did. Wanted to see her sprawled on that huge bed for a reason other than sleep, wanted to watch as she straddled him and took him deep inside. But something made him hesitate. That refusal to promise to make him stop.
Had she done that before? Let Travis do things she didn’t want to do without attempting to stop him?
He nuzzled her cheek, his decision made. “Let’s stay here for a while.”
He was going to make this all about Chloe. Show her that all men were not created equal. Some really did care about their partner’s enjoyment. Show her how much it enhanced his own pleasure to know she was responding to his touch. To his murmured words.
He could wait. For ever, if necessary. But he had a feeling Chloe had already been kept waiting far too long.
IT BURNED.
His touch. His lips. His body—even through his clothes. And Chloe was slowly going up in flames.
She’d never gotten this far before without tensing, without dreading what she knew was coming next. But Brad’s fingers had edged beneath the hem of her shirt with care, sliding over the bare skin of her stomach until she found herself arching toward him rather than cringing away inside. He’d spent what had seemed like hours just getting to this point. As if there were nowhere else he’d rather be.
Lips touched her. Skated over her collarbone just as his hand covered her left breast, using the barest amount of friction. She pushed into his palm, asking silently for more. He responded with an equal amount of pressure in return.
He was right. She didn’t need words.
And neither did he, evidently. His actions spoke volumes.
He cared about how she felt. About what she wanted. Something