The What If Guy - Lauren Blakely Page 0,61
alive in a whole new way with you. I feel connected to you on all those levels. Maybe you think that’s crazy.”
“It’s not crazy.” My heart lurches toward him, my throat tightening with vulnerable emotions. I want to get closer to him, want to know what it’s like to be wrapped in this kind of intimacy: body, heart, and mind. “I feel that way too.”
“So you know it’s not just sexual?”
“It’s not,” I say softly. “But I wanted to make sure. Once bitten, twice shy.”
“Same here. That’s why I said thank you. I could never talk about sex openly with my ex. She didn’t want to. But with you,” he says, running a hand over my hip, “I feel like I’ve been able to be open with you from the start. I think that’s why it’s so good between us.”
“Because we can talk about sex and everything else,” I agree. He’s put his cards on the table, so I do the same, even if it’s a little scary. Because we can tell each other what we want. “I spend all day making decisions, and I love that when I’m in bed with you, I don’t have to.”
“All day, I think about compromises and negotiations, and in bed with you, I don’t have to. I can decide.”
I snuggle closer to him. “I like when you tell me what to do. When you put me on my knees. When you push me down. It felt even more intense this time. Did you feel that way?”
“I did.” His voice is soft as he brushes the hair off my cheek. “And I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m falling for you, Bryn. I’ve been shut down for so long, and it’s incredible to feel the opposite at last. And I don’t want to stop feeling this way.”
My eyes flutter closed as his words sink in, as they weave through me, making me feel so damn good.
When I open my eyes, I say, “I’m falling for you too.”
We kiss for a long, long time.
So long that I lose track of the hours and miss my hula-hooping class, but I don’t care, because soon he fastens my hands to the headboard with a tie, buries his face between my legs, and makes me come again.
And it feels like we’re the only ones in the world.
27
Logan
That afternoon, we grab lunch then walk through Central Park. “What was your favorite road trip with your mom?”
“It’s impossible to choose.”
“Try.”
“There were so many good ones,” she says, bright flickers of happiness in her eyes. She hums thoughtfully, setting her finger on her lips like she’s recalling memories. “I loved going to California, seeing the gold rush towns at the foot of Yosemite.”
“Did you discover any gold?”
She laughs. “So much.” We wander along the path, trees canopying us overhead. “I loved visiting Savannah. All that history and those spooky old mansions.”
“Savannah feels like it’s teeming with stories. Like you walk down one block and there are a thousand tales in those homes.”
“Yes, exactly.”
I squeeze her fingers, a small burst of nerves in me as I ask the next question. “Where would you go with me if we went on a road trip?”
She tilts her face, meeting my gaze. “I’d like to go on a train with you. Maybe even across Canada. One of those seven-day trips where you see all the towns and take in the countryside. Get a sleeper car.”
“Not a road trip?” I ask, surprised.
She shakes her head. “I love them, but I’d want it to be fresh and new with you. To feel like what I love, but different too. Know what I mean?”
I drop a kiss onto her cheek, understanding perfectly. “I do.”
We cross Bethesda Terrace, and briefly I wonder if we’ll run into anyone from work. If we’ll see someone we know before we have a chance to come out. But it’s just us, two people in a sea of millions.
There will be time to do this the right way, and the weekend is not that time. I lace our fingers tighter, my heart thumping harder, enjoying this escape. “So, Miss Baseball Fan. I can get us hockey tickets tonight, but I have a feeling you’d rather see the Yankees. Want me to try to get tickets for the ball game?”
She pants, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll get on my knees for that.”
“Done.”
I make some calls, snag some tickets, and take her to the game. She’s rowdy and waves a blue foam finger and cheers the loudest