Do You Take This Man (38)

She looked up at me, her fingers working the buttons of my shirt. Her gaze wasn’t exactly soft but soft adjacent, and she spoke in a quiet voice. “I think you’re interesting.”

“Is that a good thing?” I dragged my hand up her ribs, confirming the softness of the fabric of her shirt, and dipped my head to slide my lips up her neck.

She let out a tiny moan when I kissed the spot she liked. “It’s an interesting thing. I usually know what to expect from people.” Her fingers ran over my chest and down my abs, and the way she moved slowly, making it clear we had time, had me wanting to savor her touches and also throw her onto the bed. “Sometimes you surprise me.”

“I didn’t know paint fumes were a turn-on for you.” I pulled her shirt from where it was tucked in, sliding my fingers under the silky fabric. “I—” The joke froze in my throat as she slid my shirt off my shoulders, sliding her fingers over my sunburn, her short red nails digging into my skin in a way I normally liked. This time, I made a noise that was mildly inhuman. It was a yelp mixed with a growl.

RJ jumped back, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a sunburn.” I winced, breathing through my nose and waiting for the pain to fade. “It’s okay.” I reached for her hip again, but she gently pushed my hand back.

“Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just be careful.”

RJ’s hands came to her hips, her lips pursed, and I relented.

“Fine,” I said, turning around and letting her finish sliding my shirt off. I’d spent the morning outside, focused on the work I was doing, and now the burn felt developed and painful.

“Lear,” she said, touching a cool finger to the back of my shoulder, “this is bad.” The cool touch felt good as she traced over my skin, barely touching me. “How long were you out there?”

“A few hours. I wasn’t thinking. Forgot sunscreen.”

“What was so important?” She tugged the sleeves over my hands and set the shirt aside.

“The nursery furniture they bought a while back just in case—the rocking chair and dresser and stuff . . . it’s all secondhand, and the paint was faded and not great to begin with, so I was outside sanding and staining that, too.” I’d gone into autopilot mode, wanting to make it all look perfect while ignoring my thoughts. Following along with YouTube tutorials was easier to focus on.

RJ was quiet for a moment. “Do you have aloe?”

I turned. “No. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to this . . .” I reached for her hip again. “We had plans.”

RJ pushed my hand away. “I didn’t know your entire body was sautéed when we made the plans.”

“Not my whole body,” I said with a shrug I regretted immediately.

RJ noticed, and her expression was self satisfied. “You’re right. Just the back half of you. Please go take a cool shower. I’m going to find you aloe.” She snatched her bag off the floor.

“You’re telling me to take a cold shower . . . now?”

She pressed a finger to my lips. “Shrugging causes you pain. What did you think you were going to do with me on that bed?”

I hadn’t thought that through, the burn a distant second thought to kissing, touching, and tasting RJ, and I finally relented.

The cool shower felt good on my back and shoulders, and I stood under the spray in my tiny basement shower until the chill of the water got to me. Goose bumps were really not how I’d planned for this evening to play out, but when I stepped out of the shower, a towel around my waist, RJ was already back, sitting legs crossed on the bed, holding a bottle of bright green aloe vera gel.

“You really don’t have to do this,” I said, trying to read her. Uncomplicated and unattached was our thing. We made each other feel good and then went back to veiled contempt, and she had to be looking for an opportunity to flee.

RJ waved off my words, though. “Do I seem like the woman who does things she doesn’t want to do?”

“For someone who ardently resists help, you’re really insistent in other people accepting yours.”

“I’m an enigma.” She patted the bed next to her. “Stay in the towel, though.”

“So you can access my body quickly?” I lowered to the bed, wincing.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to use aloe as a lubricant. You are very much misreading this situation.” RJ’s laugh was low and warm, and I wanted to hear it again.

“What about your clothes? Shouldn’t you avoid aloe stains?”

She laughed again, kind of a free laugh, and when she squeezed aloe onto my shoulder, her hand sliding over the liquid, the coolness of it felt like immediate relief. “That was nice of you to get things ready for them.”

“I guess,” I said, letting my eyes fall closed at the sensation of her hands, knowing she couldn’t see the vulnerable movement. “They’re family.”

“Two weeks ago, you gave that bride’s great-aunt a crash course on Instagram so she could see the wedding posts.”

I dipped my chin to my chest, and she stroked aloe over my neck and down between my shoulder blades. “It’s not like hashtags are that hard to explain . . .”

“I’m saying you’re a nice guy,” she said. “Why are you pretending you’re not?”