Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(52)

“And would I be resting in this bed alone, Doctor?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no.” He took off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. “You would need constant supervision.”

I grinned. “I guess it’s too bad you didn’t drop me, then.”

He started down the buttons of his shirt, giving me tantalizing inch by tantalizing inch. I was surprised for a minute to see his chest wasn’t hairless but immediately decided the amount of hair he had on his body was perfect, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. I was so used to muscular, fit men obsessively shaving themselves clean as babies, but the fact that Rich wouldn’t be so vain made me like him even more. Besides, I thought it might require some rare form of brain damage to have any problem with Rich’s body—hair or no hair.

His shirt was on the floor now, and he seemed to tower over me. His broad, sculpted shoulders and arms flexed and shifted as he pulled his belt free and dropped it to join the rest.

“My professional diagnosis is that you’re overheated,” Rich said. “No broken bones, but you’re going to need to lose the clothes.”

“Call me crazy, but your professional diagnosis doesn’t carry much weight with me.”

“No?” He knelt down and picked up his shirt. “Should I just put this back on and call it a night, then?”

I could’ve laughed at how fast I got my own shirt off. Any thoughts of being self-conscious or worrying what he might think of me were drowned by the fear of messing this up. I was joking with him, but it was only to distract myself from the numbing barrage of doubts and fears bouncing around in my brain. I was about to sleep with a guy for the first time, and he was probably going to know it the moment things got serious. Forget the shit storm this would probably cause in West Valley and even in the media. That would all come tomorrow. I was fairly sure of it.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think past tonight. I didn’t want to think past tonight, even if I was so nervous I thought I might forget to breathe.

“Drop that shirt,” I said.

He let it fall back to the ground. I expected him to continue his little striptease, but apparently, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He crawled onto the bed, giving me a delicious anatomy lesson in all the places a man’s torso could be covered in rippling, flexing muscles.

My head was on his pillow, and his eyes were only inches from mine. My rapidly rising and falling chest was so close to his that I could feel my breasts press into him each time I inhaled.

“Either you drugged me, or I’m experiencing some kind of hotness-induced paralysis right now,” I said.

Rich was apparently past laughing. He was just looking down at me in that searching, absorbed way of his. When he licked his lips, I felt myself lurching upward against my will. The idea of my tongue gliding across his full lips was enough to make me want to scream with anticipation.

“That sounds like a ploy to get me to undress you,” he said. “But all you had to do was ask.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said this bra clasp was tricky. Good luck.”

Rich scoffed. He pulled me up to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around me as he reached for the clasp of my bra. The position put my face right in his chest, where I could breathe in how amazing he smelled. I’d always rolled my eyes a little at women who gushed over the idea of being held by a strong man. I never understood the appeal until now.

Rich wasn’t even technically holding me, and after a few seconds, he was cursing and tugging in frustration at the clasp. “You weren’t kidding.”

His voice rumbled through his chest and into my skin. I chewed my lip, thanking my bra for the first time in my life for being a cheap piece of crap. It was now a miracle worker because it meant I had an excuse to sit and be wrapped in Rich’s arms, even for a little longer.

“Fuck it,” he said. He yanked his arms apart and tore my bra in a single, abrupt motion.

I gasped in surprise and put my hands up to cover myself as my bra slid down to my waist. Rich shook his head, peeling my hands away.

“Don’t cover yourself. Not in front of me. I’ve waited way too fucking long for this, and I won’t have you being self-conscious. You’re too perfect for that.”

“If you say so,” I whispered. I barely heard him. The words coming out of his mouth didn’t matter as much as the way he said them and the glint of hunger in his eyes. Words could be chosen carefully and crafted for a purpose, but I didn’t think the way he was looking at me could be faked. The way he sounded was real, and I never felt sexier or more wanted than I did in that moment. If I’d still felt reservations before that moment, they were gone now. All that remained was desire. Liquid, hot, and irresistible desire.

“I do. And it’s true,” he said. He pulled my hand up and kissed my palm with a wicked grin. “Besides, if you keep using these to cover yourself, I’ll have to restrain you.”

“I’ll behave,” I said.

He kissed my neck softly while his hands explored me. His voice was soft—almost tender. “I know this is probably your first time. You don’t need to be scared about it. It’s not something you can mess up, okay? It’s not about the result, it’s about the experience.”

“Who said it was my first time?” I asked.