Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(31)

Verity didn’t fight him when he reached for her. She didn’t try to break free, and his heart swelled with hope. This girl. This woman in his arms. How badly he wanted—needed—her to stick around.

And while he knew, rationally, that thoughts of love were premature, his life wasn’t typical—it was complicated by his family commitments. He basically had to choose between two paths when it came to relationships: a fling, with zero commitment and no emotional investment, or opening the tightly locked door that would showcase his baggage in all its enormity. Because having a loving relationship would be impossible unless he was still able to honor his promises. And he couldn’t honor them if they stayed hidden.

Sandy had been a fling, nothing more, so he’d never uttered a word about Mel to her. He had a good idea of how she’d react, and it would have made him f*cking furious. Sure, he’d enjoyed Sandy’s company, and she was an enthusiastic f*ck. He’d even missed her when she left, but it didn’t hurt when she left. It didn’t hurt, because they’d kept things spicy and light. He’d never come close to loving her. In fact, he’d hung out with Sandy for months, and his feelings for her hadn’t come close to the feelings he had for Verity after a handful of days.

No matter how much easier it would have been for him to stay emotionless about Verity, he hadn’t been able to rein in his heart from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was different. Special. And it made the entire situation about a thousand times more complicated.

This woman in his arms, with her sunny smiles and patient heart, had brought so much unexpected warmth into his lonesome life. He couldn’t let her walk away from what they were starting tonight, even if it meant walking through that door and negotiating the mess of baggage and responsibility on the other side. He couldn’t let her go back upstairs to her room and close the door on the chance of more between them. What she hadn’t yet realized was that yes, he’d helped get her a job and given her and her brother a place to stay, but he was definitely getting more out of the arrangement than she was. He felt alive for the first time in years. He felt needed in a way that was electric, not familial. He felt . . . good. So he tightened his arms and held on to her, hoping—blindly, desperately, even against his better judgment—that she wouldn’t leave.

Her body, rigid at first, relaxed against his little by little, and relief flooded his heart. He pressed his lips to her hair, kissing the silken strands, then lifting his head so that she could lean against him, the back of her head on his shoulder, her lungs filling and emptying rapidly under his hands, which lay flat on her abdomen, his fingers locked together just beneath her breasts.

“Don’t go,” he said again, close to her ear, daring to suck the tempting lobe between his lips. She gasped with pleasure, and he felt her shiver when he released it. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“For being a jerk,” he said, slowly running his lips from behind her ear, down the side of her throat, to the tiny valley where her neck and collarbone met. There he kissed her softly, and she moaned—a low, tiny sound of pleasure catching a ride on a sigh. His blood rushed furiously to his cock, making him light-headed as he kissed that little hollow again.

“Have dinner with me,” he murmured, letting his lips slip over her warm skin to her bare shoulder. “Please.”

She took a deep breath and straightened, raising her head and turning in his arms. Drunk by the nearness of her, by the soft pressure of her breasts brushing against his chest, he didn’t notice her eyes at first. He was too focused on her mouth—on the lips he wanted to devour, to lick and taste and explore until she slid her tongue against his and begged for his hands on her body, and then he’d—

“Colton.”

Something in her voice sliced through his lust, and he slid his heavy gaze from her lips to her eyes, finding them troubled.

Sometimes “I’m sorry” isn’t enough, he thought and flinched, leaning away from her and dropping her eyes. “I’ve ruined tonight.”

“No! No.” Her hands landed gently on his face, tenderly cradling his jaw. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

He twisted his neck to press his lips to her palm, hoping her breath would hitch and loving it when it did. He was learning what she liked, and every tiny lesson was precious to him. All he wanted in the whole world was to have more days to learn about her, to know her, to have the honor of looking after her for a little while longer.

“Then . . .?” He looked up at her, uncertain of what would happen next.

“It’s me. I . . . I haven’t known you for very long, but . . .” She hesitated before speaking again. “But I don’t think I can do casual with you.” Her lips tilted up in a sad smile as she made this confession. “I wish I could.”

“Do you think I’m looking for casual?” he asked, frowning as he searched her eyes.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up into his face with heartbreaking earnestness. “I overheard some of your conversation, so I know I’m . . . I’m not the only woman in your life right now. And . . .” She gulped, then continued on, like she’d lose her nerve if she stopped talking. “I’m just . . . I’m not good at sharing, I guess.” She shrugged, her blue eyes sad but clear as she stared up at him. “We’ve known each other such a short time. My feelings are ridiculous. I know that. But I can’t help it. I like you. I already like you. If I liked you less, maybe I could have a fling with you, but I just don’t think—”