Royally Not Ready(63)

“Hmm?” I mutter as I snuggle my cheek closer against his chest. My legs are tangled with his, and my arm’s draped around his large torso.

“I should get to my bed.”

“Why?” I ask, feeling far too sleepy and comfortable for anything to change.

“I can’t sleep with you. This is crossing a line.”

“Keller, the line is a blur at this point. Please just stay.”

“Please respect my position here, Lilly.” His voice sounds desperate because I know this isn’t what he truly wants. If I were to look into his eyes at this moment, I know I’d see the man who touched my breasts earlier today, the man who wrapped himself around me when we baked, the man who held me tight, letting my sorrow become his. He wants this. But his dedication to “the job” wins out every time, and it’s not fair for me to hold him back from what’s important to him.

Sighing, I pull away from him and roll to the other side of the bed, curling into the cold pillow. “Okay. Sorry I asked,” I say softly.

“Lilly,” he whispers.

I turn my face to my pillow, gripping it tightly as I say, “Keller, it’s fine. I’m not mad. You can go. I know I pushed you too far today.”

He remains unmoving, staring at me. I can feel the blaze of his eyes. His indecision weighs heavy in the air, and even though I want to ask him to stay one more time, I know it’s not fair to keep pushing his limits.

The mattress shifts and my heart sinks as I expect to hear him pad across the stone floor to the bathroom, but when I feel him close in behind me, I’m genuinely shocked. His arm loops around my stomach and he quietly says, “You know if it was my choice, I’d have it this way.” His hand slips under my shirt and his warm palm presses against my stomach. “I’d spend the night, right here, holding you close to me, making sure nothing, not even a nightmare, hurts you.”

God, when he says things like that . . .

I rotate to my back, and his large body hovers over me, his hand inches from my breast. “It is your choice, Keller.”

“It’s not,” he answers with a shake of his head as his hand slides up to just under my breast, lighting up my entire body with tingles, with need, with the yearning to climb on top of this man and truly take what I want. “Fuck, but I want you, Lilly.”

My heart beats so erratically that I can feel it in my throat as my cheeks flame with this burning desire I have for him.

“All you have to do is take what you want. Do you realize that? I’m all yours.” I place my palm on his cheek. “Just take me, Keller.”

The tension in the air grows so thick that it feels as if one slight movement could cause an unexpected explosion between us as he studies me, his eyes flitting back and forth. The desire in them mirrors mine, but uncertainty clouds that desire.

He wets his lips.

His hand grows tighter on my side, his fingers digging deliciously into my skin.

And he lowers his head to mine.

My breath catches. I prepare myself for his mouth, for his soft lips.

My hand floats behind his head, and just when I think he’s about to finally kiss me, he rests his forehead on mine and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I . . . I can’t, Lilly. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The hope building in my mind vanishes in the blink of an eye, and the weird thing about it is that I’m not mad. How can I be? The man is anguished with his decision, so why would I make him feel even worse than he already does?

My hand slips from behind his head to his cheek, where I brush my thumb over his coarse scruff. “Don’t apologize, I understand. I truly do.”

His hand scoots up just another millimeter, his thumb now pressing against the underside of my breast, causing me to gasp. He offers me a stroke, so light I barely feel it, but it causes me to dig my fingers into his scalp.

“Keller,” I whisper as our noses touch, his lips so close I can almost taste them.

His thumb moves carefully and then caresses my nipple. We both suck in a sharp breath, our mouths parted, our breath mixing. My skin prickles, wanting so much more. Wanting his mouth. Wanting his touch. Wanting his entire body.

Shifting, his cheek slides along mine, his mouth next to my ear as he cups my breast. God, yes, that feels so good. I spread my legs, welcoming him as I slide my other hand to his back, holding him close.

“Take me,” I whisper, my lips dancing against his ear.

“Fuck,” he says, squeezing my breast. His teeth pull down on my ear, causing me to moan quietly yet loud enough to snap him out of the haze we’re both in. He pauses, and then in the blink of an eye, he releases my breast and pulls away, rolling toward the edge of the bed. He’s clearly in agony, his hands digging into his hair while his back rolls with tension.

The wind outside whistles past the pointed edges of the stone wall, filling the silence that’s fallen between us. My heart is beating wildly from being so close, but my mind is reeling with a mixture of anger and frustration.

Why get so close?

Why tease me?

Why make me believe that he’s actually going to make a move and then pull away at the last moment? It’s cruel.

“You should probably get to your room,” I say, trying my hardest to hold back the edge in my voice.

“Lilly . . . I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” I say, that frustration coming out. “Just stop, Keller.”