you naked, and boom, there I am”—he wrapped his fingers around an imaginary hard-on— “pitchin’ a tent. Popping a chub. Sporting a woodie.”
She flushed. Had she and her dickhead ex never talked about sex? Even after almost living here for a month, she still easily flustered.
The sadist in him totally enjoyed turning her red.
“You’re so bad. I’m going to shower and you”—she pointed at him—“you stay here and finish your workout.”
It was almost a dare, but he was still content from a vigorous bout of sex this morning, and his dick liked a bit of recovery time. He wasn’t eighteen any longer, after all.
Instead, he finished off his sit-ups, then tidied up the living room to cool off while he waited for her to finish.
He liked that the room now showed someone lived here. The coffee table held his notes for the military history book he was writing and his latest crossword puzzle. E-readers sat on the end tables, since Valerie also preferred reading to television watching.
He tucked her embroidery stuff back into its basket and shook his head. Although she often meditated in the garden, she used her cross-stitching as a mindfulness exercise.
No wonder she radiated peacefulness.
The shower shut off, and, giving her a few minutes, he finished cleaning the room.
Hearing her in the bedroom, he leaned against the doorframe to savor the scenery. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
Startled, Valerie jumped, dropping her dress.
As she bent to retrieve it, his dick hardened. “Damn, I love your ass.”
And he really liked how she looked in the underwear he’d bought her. The tiny briefs were more lace than substance, and the deep blue contrasted beautifully with her fair skin.
If she didn’t have anything planned—
Rather than using a bra, she pulled a blue sundress over her head, then captured her breasts in some sort of built-in rigging.
No wonder women had less trouble with bondage than men; they’d been doing it for years.
As she tied the laces at the back, she glanced over her shoulder, noticed where his gaze was focused, and laughed. “You, sir, are insatiable. I have grading to do, a test to prepare, and I need to visit my apartment. I haven’t been there in a couple of days, and I’m out of clothes.”
Her place. Joining her, he ran his hand down her bare arm. “Valerie, why don’t you move in with me? You’re practically living here anyway.”
Her mouth dropped open.
Interesting. Why did the suggestion come as such a surprise?
“Lass.”
“Wait. Just wait.” She took a couple of steps back.
The way she retreated from him was concerning…even frustrating.
Rather than responding, he moved back to the doorway. “Can you tell me why you appear to be upset?”
She pulled in a breath. “I… It’s too soon, okay?”
Irritation prickled his nerves. “Not everything needs to be on a time-table. I love you. You love me. Yes?”
“Those are feelings, Ghost.” She tried to run a brush through her hair, the bristles caught, and she spat out. “Al’ama.”
It was a mild curse, the Arabic equivalent to “damn”. But she wasn’t one to curse often, although, he had to admit, a bout of vigorous sex—and his hands—had rather thoroughly tangled her hair.
He studied her for a moment. “Feelings are usually involved when people move in together.”
“I suppose.” She moved forward, then stopped, obviously expecting him to get out of the doorway.
He didn’t move.
Her color rose. “There’s more involved than merely feelings. Like being practical and looking forward and…and—” She sputtered to a stop.
Hmm. “You’re rarely at a loss for words when you’re comfortable, which makes me think there’s something else at play here.”
“I’m simply not…not ready, okay? I don’t want to give up my apartment, my place. Even if it’s more work to run back and forth.” Her face had flushed.
“Do you still think I’m going to…to replace…you like your husband did?”
Her expression changed, flattened until no emotion showed at all.
She did think that.
“Seriously?” Anger sparked inside him. His jaw tightened until it hurt.
After a second, he stepped out of the doorway to let her out.
“I’m… I know you’re not like him, but”—she shook her head—“I know, but I still—”
“What…exactly…can I do to reassure you?” Despite his efforts, he could hear the frustration in his voice. Because he’d been basking in a glow of happiness, and she’d been worrying he was going to… What, dump her? Go after some youngster? “Let’s talk about what you’re feeling.”
“I don’t think so. No.” Rather than caving in, she turned to glare at him as she crossed the living room.