so there’s not so much as a molecule between us. I sprint toward the epicenter of unbridled desire as our breath mingles—I no longer know who’s inhaling and who’s exhaling—we’re one entity. That’s when his words finally sink in. “You’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since we …”
This man seems to be having a hard time finishing his sentences. “Since we, what?”
“Since the night of the Spring Fling,” he finally says, stumbling over his words.
That can’t be what he originally intended to say. The Spring Fling was only two nights ago.
Davis pulls me closer as his hands start to acquaint themselves with my form. I want to strip naked and hurry things along, but the strength of his fingers, the roughness of his calluses, are all so perfect I don’t want to miss a single moment of the exquisite torture. With every new sensation, I start to come alive. Every touch is a rebirth.
I’m not the same woman I was before I walked in here. I’m stronger, fuller, and suddenly complete. Davis is like a battery that’s charging me, bringing me to life. Our physical attraction defies anything I could have ever imagined. He makes me feel so much on so many levels, I wonder how I ever got through my days without him. So many days without him.
I run my hands underneath his shirt and caress the solid muscles of his back. He’s hot like the smoldering sun. “Are you going to show me your bedroom or not?” I demand. I’m not in the least bit interested in touring the room anymore, he’s all I want.
Davis effortlessly lifts me into his arms. He carries me toward the stairs, but when he reaches the first step, he stops and puts me down so we’re eye-to-eye. I can’t read his expression. He’s obviously interested in taking things further, but he’s hesitant. His mind appears to be racing a million miles an hour.
“Show me your room,” I order, desperate for more.
Davis releases his breath like he’s trying to blow out a hundred birthday candles. “You go on upstairs and take a tour of the second floor. I’ll wait for you down here.” Tour the second floor? I wasn’t going up there for a tour.
“I thought you were coming with me,” I practically whine, a stab of rejection hits like a butcher knife to the heart.
Davis leans in and kisses me again, softer, sweeter, less hurried than before. “I’ll take you to my bedroom when I know that’s what you really want.”
“That’s what I want.” I briefly wonder what more I can do to show him how I feel. Panic nearly buckles my knees. Why is he rebuffing me now? What just happened?
“We aren’t in a hurry,” he says. “We have all the time in the world.”
I feel like crying. “Davis, why are you pulling back?”
“I’m not pulling back. I just want to move forward in the right way. I don’t want to put you in a position of regretting anything we do.”
“Why would I regret it?” I have no idea what’s going on in that head of his.
“I want to date you, Ashley. I want a future with you.”
“If that’s what you want, then why aren’t you coming with me?”
“There are things that need to be said first,” he says somewhat cryptically.
“What?” I demand. Does he want to recite the Declaration of Independence, all the lyrics to “Bohemian Rhapsody”? “What needs to be said?”
He shakes his head. “Go on upstairs and look. We’ll talk more later.”
While I would love to talk to him later about anything and everything, I didn’t think talking was what either of us had in mind. If he wants a future with me, what’s wrong with getting busy? Having said that, the mood is quickly evaporating to the point I’m not sure we could rekindle it with a dry forest and a blow torch.
I finally turn around and start to climb like I’m going to my own execution. In other words, I’m in no hurry. My body suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. When I finally reach the second floor, I hurry through the first doorway I see. I suddenly need privacy. I don’t want Davis to see me. I don’t want him to know how hurt I am.
The master bedroom is big and beautiful. A whole wall is open to the first floor, so that you can lie in bed and see the gorgeous view of the