You Make Me (Blurred Lines #1)(44)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Said every girl who was ever raped or murdered.”

He had a point, I had to admit. “Okay, okay. Which way are you walking? I don’t want to somehow miss you because that would be stupid.”

“You could just let me pick you up at your house.”

“A couple weeks. We’ll ease people into it. But you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“I’m five feet in front of you. I’ve been here for twenty minutes.”

I looked up and down the street, startled. There he was at the end of the block, phone to his ear. I should have known. I waved. “Hi.”

His voice in my ear was amused. “Hi. You didn’t really think I was going to let you walk five blocks in the dark, did you?”

“No, I guess not, but I think you’re being overly cautious.”

“I’ve seen people at their worst. It’s an ugly world. Let me look out for you.”

There was no way to argue with that. “Okay.” I came up to him and stopped.

He kissed me, our phones still at our ears. “Hang up your phone, Cat.”

I smiled, mouth still up against his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

Gently tugging my phone from my hands, he hit the end button. He handed it back. “There you go.” He put his own phone into his pocket and cupped my cheeks with his hands. “I’m glad to see you. I missed you.”

“It’s only been five hours.”

“That’s too long.”

That made me feel squishy and warm inside, despite the snow. I took his hand as we started walking. “So what terrible things did you see?” I wanted to know what he’d been through, how it might have changed him.

“The thing is if I tell you that I can’t un-tell you, you know what I mean? And if I tell you your reaction will be either that you feel sorry for me or you’ll be horrified, neither of which I want. I’ll tell you stuff, in my own way, when it’s not a talk. When you haven’t asked me outright, okay?”

“Okay.” I couldn’t disagree with him. I had no idea what he had experienced but it was clearly something I knew nothing about. It would be selfish to push him, and immature not to respect what he was saying. It didn’t mean he was keeping secrets, he just had to work it out on his own terms.

And I had things I would never tell him about. I would never share the full details of my relationship with Ethan. Why would I? Just like I didn’t want to know who he had dated and what he had done with them. Now we had a past that was separate from each other, which seemed strange. But maybe someday we would share everything again, when it no longer mattered what had come before our reunion.

“Did you bring your toothbrush and your jammies?” he asked in a clear change of subject.

“I need jammies?” I had nothing except my house key and phone. Funny enough, I had always made sure I had a toothbrush and makeup, clean clothes, when I stayed with Ethan. He liked me put together. Or I had thought he liked me put together. He’d never said that. It was just my perception. I had continued the way I had started out with him.

With Heath, I had instinctively reverted back to my low maintenance ways. No brush, no makeup, no cute bra and panties as a treat for him. I didn’t think he would even notice what my underwear looked like. He was more interested in touching me than having an extended show.

“What are you going to sleep in if you don’t have jammies?”

Please. I could tell him what he clearly wanted to hear, which was that I was going to be completely naked, or I could play the game. “I’m sure you have a T-shirt I can borrow.”

“Nope. They’ll all be too big for you.”

Which was totally illogical. I gave him an exaggerated eyelash batting. “I guess I’ll have to sleep in the warmth of your arms then.”

He laughed. “Schmaltzy doesn’t work for you.”

“What, I can’t be romantic?”

“That wasn’t romantic. That was you being sarcastic.”

We were almost to his apartment. “Do you want me to be romantic?” I went up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I can be whatever you want.”

I didn’t mean that to sound the way that it did. I just meant that I wanted to please him. Not give up my identity or anything.

But he shook his head. “I only want you to be you.”

That was one of the things I loved about him. He genuinely meant that. Even in the midst of teasing, he truly wanted me for me, exactly as I was. “I can do that.”

I had expected that he would take me inside and yank my clothes off, hot and fast. But he didn’t. We sat on the couch together and he rubbed my feet, then I lay with my head in his lap while he stroked my hair. There was a movie on TV, but I barely noticed, more interested in the feeling of his fingers touching me, so softly, with tenderness. They weren’t smooth hands. They were callused and scarred, big, masculine, but they felt right on me. Protective and safe.

When we did go to bed eventually, he was worshipful, slowly taking off my clothes, and caressing me everywhere. He kissed me slowly, from head to toe, and there was nothing desperate or hurried about it. We had all night, and he seemed determined to use it. He left the hall light on, so he could see me without blinding us, and he ran his fingers over every dip and angle and curve of my body, his eyes following the trail.

“I’m the luckiest man alive.”

I was turned on by him, but more importantly I was in tune with him. It felt intimate, right, real. “I feel pretty lucky myself.”

He kissed me, slowly, his tongue dipping inside to stroke mine. He teased between my legs, pushing his erection against me, then pulling back without ever actually entering me. I sighed, amazed at his control, lifting my hips to encourage him. “I need to get a condom,” he murmured. “This is dangerous.”

It was. I was so swollen, so aroused, so in love, I wasn’t sure I cared. But then he slid further up, moving his hardness over my clit, and I let out a low groan. “What… what are you doing?” I squirmed, trying to shift away, the feeling so amazing and intense I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Getting you off,” he said, nipping at my ear lobe, moving himself again with slick strokes.

“It’s working.” It was better than just a finger, it was more complete, more naughty, more enveloping. “Oh, no…” I wasn’t sure why I protested the orgasm as it hit but I did, before biting my lip and enjoying the unexpected wave of pleasure.