How to Fail at Flirting(22)

“I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. I guess you’re just easy to talk to,” he said after I’d been silent for a moment. “Tell me a secret. Why did you want a one-night stand? That seems out of character.”

A tingle swept across the back of my neck, and I winced, remembering the last time I’d been in this room. “It is unlike me.” I buried my face in his chest, the warmth of his arm at my back.

The urge to share everything bubbled up inside me again, but I pressed my eyelids together, commanded my head to take back control from my heart, and told him the part of the truth that didn’t make me look so helpless. “I wanted to get out of my rule-following life and do something a little wild.”

“I’m not complaining.”

I pulled back so I could look up into his face, and in that moment realized I didn’t know the answer to the question that suddenly overtook me. “Do you think, or . . . um? Is this a one-night stand?”

“I hope not,” he said in a low voice, brushing hair off my face again, a gesture I was quickly coming to adore. “This is night number two, so it’s a mathematical impossibility.” His mouth twitched as if he was about to say something else, but he nodded instead, and we lay in silence once more. The unspoken addition to his sentence was that whatever this was had an expiration after a few more days when he flew home. That’s what I’d wanted, but a sudden wave of loss settled over me.

“Why did you talk to me in the bar?”

“I was intrigued by the pole dancing conversation. Is that woman okay?”

“Seems to be on the mend. I guess I should thank her.”

“Me, too.” He laughed before his index finger tipped up my chin. “That was part of it, but look at you. You’re gorgeous, and when I heard you on the phone and knew you were funny, too . . .” He paused his sentence with a kiss dropped on my lips. “I had to say something.”

We lay together in silence. His breathing slowed, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep by the time he finally spoke. “Tell me something else, Naya like a papaya.”

“I’m scared of butterflies.” I shuddered at the thought.

He chuckled. “Butterflies?” His breath caressed my ear.

“All bugs, but butterflies are the worst.”

He walked his fingertips up my ribs like a spider, and I smacked his hand. His low rumble of a laugh reverberated against my back. When his hand crawled over my hip, I scurried to a sitting position.

“Hey!” I squealed.

I couldn’t get enough of his body heat, and that drowsy, surrounded feeling of being next to him. The wheels in my head wanted to turn, to analyze the situation and look for exit strategies—old habits died hard. But he wrapped his palm around my ankle, stroking upward over my calf, and the wheels stilled. I didn’t want to escape. I didn’t want to move an inch.

“Do you mind that we haven’t . . .” I let my voice trail off into the air. I’d arrived at the hotel planning to take a leap, to have sex with my handsome stranger. His fingers inside me had been so intense, I’d nearly doubled over with the physical pleasure, but also with the weight of the connection coursing between us. I wasn’t sure how he knew it was hitting me so hard, but he hadn’t pushed or prodded or made me feel guilty. I wasn’t used to someone waiting for me. Still, I worried I’d let him down.

He planted a few pecks on my knee. “No, I don’t mind,” he murmured against my skin, moving his hand up and down my thigh, fingers grazing the skin a little higher with each pass. He looked to me, eyebrows raised as if for permission, and I nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I definitely want more, but when, or if, you want me inside you, I don’t want you to have any doubts. I’m happy to keep making you feel good.”

My pulse quickened, and I settled back, sinking deeper against the pillows and headboard. Previous lovers had tried to get me to climax like this. There was never a big finale. I began to just fake it, so the guy didn’t feel bad.

“Okay?” he asked, and I nodded again. “Good.” His tone was distracted as he planted sweet kisses higher on my thigh, his tongue wet on my skin for brief moments.

“Jake.” I purred his name, my head bobbing backward.

“Mm?” He spread my legs wider, arms wrapping around my thighs as he kissed only a few inches from my center. He stilled, his eyes meeting mine. “Do you want me to stop?”

My knees slowly fell apart as he settled between them. My words were punctuated with stuttered breaths, anticipation taking hold. “No. I, uh. Don’t stop.” My hips gyrated as he shifted higher, and I swayed between desperately wanting his mouth on me and cringing at the shame I’d feel if I couldn’t get there. “I might take a while to finish, though.”

He smiled up at me, that cute crooked grin, then looked down at where my legs met, his gaze intense. I was open to him, bare in so many ways, and he settled his hands on my thighs as he continued to kiss higher. “I’m in no hurry. Tell me what feels good, okay?”

As his mouth met its destination and his tongue began a slow trail, my head fell back against the pillows. I had no idea this was what I was missing. I moaned as he glided over my slick, sensitive folds, expertly flicking, circling, and stroking, leading me to the edge until I reeled.