Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I know how perfect plans end.
I desperately want this to go somewhere, but I don’t feel good enough to deserve it. Not with Whit.
The drive home is quiet.
I don’t think it has anything to do with what Whit and I are about to do but everything to do with what comes next.
What happens tomorrow and the next day and the next?
Can I really see myself driving out to Whitaker Farms every week to spend nights in Whit’s cute little house he made for himself?
Then I’d come home, go to work at V and V, and return to my crappy, small apartment, and do it all again the following week.
It’s not … me.
Then again, I don’t even know who the fuck that is anymore anyway.
Whit’s hand lands on my thigh. “You okay?”
I try to smile, but I’m not sure if I pull it off. “Little nervous.”
Maybe I am just nervous about sex. It feels like I’m about to lose my virginity, and that ship sailed almost a decade ago.
“I make you nervous?”
“Making this good for you makes me nervous.”
“You don’t need to worry. I trust you.”
I groan. “God, that makes it even worse.”
Whit laughs. “No, it’s a good thing. I’m comfortable with you. I won’t hesitate to tell you if I don’t like something.”
I nod.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been weird today. I thought maybe you were second-guessing.”
“I’m not second-guessing you.” Just myself.
Whit reaches for my hand. “Good, because I’ve been waiting for this forever.”
“I think your expectations need to be taken down a bit. I’m terrible in bed, just so you know. I kinda stick it in and wiggle it around a little bit.”
Whit bursts into laughter. “Sounds hot. And it still counts.”
I huff. “My dick is a weird shape.”
More laughter. “I’ve seen your dick countless times. I’ve had it in my mouth. It’s a beautiful dick.”
“Okay, now you’re making things weird.”
“I’m not making it weird. You’re making it weird by trying to talk me out of it.”
“All those months of not going through with it because you couldn’t find the right guy and I called you picky … I told you to wait for the right person. I … I …” Shit, why can’t I tell him I don’t think I’m the right choice?
“You are the right person,” he says as if he can read my mind. “You’re my first actual boyfriend.”
“But—”
“I wasn’t being picky, Rainn.” Whit pulls his truck into a space by my apartment.
I didn’t even realize we were this close to home. I’ve been too spaced out.
Whit turns to me. “I could’ve taken any of those guys home. The reason I didn’t is because the person I wanted was you.”
“Me …”
“And by some miracle, the universe let me have you.” He unclicks his seat belt and leans across the console to kiss me.
The touch of his lips on mine, that familiar feeling I get when he’s near me, it’s all-consuming and makes all those niggly little doubts melt away.
When he pulls back, I can’t help smirking.
“Are you saying the universe has control over my dick?”
“If Cupid is real, he must be gay.”
“Must be.” I lean in and lower my voice. “Let’s go inside.”
“That’s what you’ll be saying later.”
I shove him. “You’re making it weird again.”
When we enter the apartment, we hover by the entryway, both of us seemingly too nervous to get this started.
“Drinks,” I say. “We should start with drinks.”
I go to the kitchen and find the bottle of whiskey.
“I’m having déjà vu,” he says as soon as I pour him a glass.
He tosses his back immediately, and I do the same.
As soon as he’s swallowed it down, I wrap my arm around his back and pull him close. “Come here.”
When he kisses me, he tastes like whiskey and smells like pine aftershave. It leaves a lingering scent even as he pulls away and leads me to my bedroom.
No more words are spoken.
His hands are soft and tender as they roam my chest and start undoing the buttons in my shirt. Mine do the same to his.
I don’t take my eyes off him while we continue to undress each other.
I want to make him feel good. I want to be inside him and claim him.
When we shed the rest of our clothes, I push him toward the bed.
Whit lies on his back, his long, muscular body laid out bare for me. The look of hunger in his eyes doesn’t cover the nervous way he bites his lip.
“We’re going to take this slow,” I say.
I have supplies stashed in my bedside table, but I get the feeling if I bring them out, Whit might rush this.
I know he wants it, but we’ve been holding out on doing this for so long, that I worry he’s been building it up too much. It’s why I’m going to take my time with him. He deserves that much respect.