If Ever(69)

"I'd like to find a book with all the answers to life, so I'd know exactly what to do."

He tilts his head and smiles. "I hate to break it to you, but no such a book exists."

I slip off my boots and curl my feet under myself so I'm facing him. Tom holds up the wine bottle and with my nod pours. "My goal was always to work in international business, but it turns out I hated it. It's not me at all. I spent years working for that degree, and soon I need to go back to work at a grown up job, but it's the last thing I want to do."

"They're holding your job for you?" Tom's brow creases as if this is a possibility he hadn't considered.

"No. I quit. Half the reason I agreed to do Celebrity Dance Off was to escape."

"So rather than figuring out the rest of my life, I'm taking a little time off and enjoying life." I say with a confidence I don't feel. I'm terrified of what's next, and Tom and I never talked about the future other than seeing each other once I was off the show.

"As long as you’re in New York, I'm happy."

I breathe a sigh of relief because he's talking about the future. I'm a realist. I really want this to work, but know better than take it for granted.

"You look serious."

"It's nothing." I smile and push down my insecurities.

"Good." He takes my glass and sets it next to his. His hand cups my jaw, his other hand curls around my waist and he kisses me. I relax in his arms and savor the touch of his lips to mine. His eyes open slowly at the end, gazing at me like no man ever has, and I'm a hurricane of emotion.

We lie back on the couch, his lithe form stretched out beside me. I'm consumed by the sensation of his body pressed against mine, and his sexy blue eyes that try to peek into my soul. He kisses me again and again. I melt into him, letting my worries fall away as our bodies warm the room like dueling furnaces.

I lose all track of time, focused only on the decadent senses dancing over me. Our legs are tangled together with his knee between mine. My hips, with a mind of their own, press against his. I should try harder to control myself, but I'm under his spell.

Breathless with desire, he lifts his head and leans on his elbow so he can see my face. I don't want him to stop. I smooth his hair from where my hands mussed it and touch his face and his lips. No one has ever affected me like Tom does. Not my old boyfriend and certainly not the idiot from before that. I take a deep breath trying to slow my erratic heart. "I lose all grip on reality when I'm with you."

His lips curl into a smile. "I'm okay with that."

"I bet you are," I laugh.

He links his fingers with mine, is about to say something and then hesitates.

"What?"

He glances away and then back to me. "I was hoping maybe you'd want to stay here tonight."

I swallow. This is that moment. My hands perspire, and a momentary glint of indecision crosses my mind, but it quickly disappears.

He takes my hesitation as rejection, releases my hand, and sits up. "It's okay if you don't. I've been trying not to move too fast. I just thought..."

I reach up and touch his face. "I'd love to stay."

The air charges up another couple of notches. He captures my mouth and a trill of anticipation rushes through my body. Something about him makes me better, happier, and more complete.

Tom stands, the low light casts him in mysterious shadow. He's sexy, holding out his hand. I grasp it, and with my pulse dancing the quick step, follow him to his bedroom.

He closes the door with a soft click and leads me to the center of the room. The lamp on his nightstand sheds soft light. My breath catches at the sight of his neatly made bed. The room is spotless, unlike last week's impromptu visit. He's been planning for this moment. I can't meet his gaze.

He cups my face and kisses me with the most gentle, pursuing touch, coaxing the momentary shyness away. "You are so beautiful."

It's been so long since I've been with a guy, and Tom isn't just anyone. When he looks at me, he sees me. He's like a mirage in a desert, a handsome man with a beautiful heart.

He lands little kisses over my cheeks and forehead, brushes his hands through my hair. I want to throw myself against him, but fight not to embarrass myself. He must sense my need. His hands go to the bottom of my sweater. While holding my gaze, he lifts it up. I raise my arms and let it slip over my head.

Next, he unbuttons my jeans, and with a catch of his breath, slips his fingers under the waistband, brushing my heated skin, and slides the fabric down over my hips. I shift to help him. He kneels before me holding the pant leg, as I pull my foot out of one leg and then the other, touching his shoulder for balance.

I'm left wearing nothing but my new coral-colored lace bra and panties. He's at my feet, his warm hands resting on my hips and his lips parted as if I'm the Holy Grail. I'm not sure what to do, so to fill the silence, I start talking.

"I don't normally look like this. My spray tan hasn't all worn off yet." Immediately I wish I'd stayed quiet.

"You're perfect." He runs his hand slowly up to the curve of my waist and back down over my hip to my thigh, creating goose bumps in his trail. "I'll look like an albino next to you," he says with a smile, his breath warming my skin.

He's still fully clothed, and my near nakedness leaves me vulnerable, turned on, and nervous, so I start talking again. "My hair and makeup team are miracle workers. Without them I'm really ordinary." Shit. Stop talking!