Kate Hewitt - The Billionaire's Fantasy - Part 4

Well, there was only one way to find out. She stirred and stretched, and Jaiven came slowly semiawake. He pulled her closer, his arm curving around her shoulder, his fingers brushing her breast. Sparks shot through her and she half turned toward him, wanting more—and yet afraid to have it.

She wasn’t ready for sex yet. Absurd, perhaps, considering just how much sex they’d had already. But she still felt too raw and revealed and a little bit afraid. She had so many memories, memories a decade old and some from just a few weeks ago. Memories that still hurt.

Still half-asleep, Jaiven palmed her breast and brushed a kiss against her forehead. He murmured a raspy, sleepy hello and slid a hand between her legs.

Louise jerked as if she’d been touched with a hot poker. She wasn’t sure just what sensation had sent her into hyperdrive—whether it was need or fear. Probably both.

Jaiven came fully awake.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, withdrew his hands from her body. “Good morning,” he said, and gave her a rueful smile of apology. Louise could still see the lust in his eyes, feel it pulse in his body. In her own, too.

“Good morning,” she answered, and slipped from the bed. She was conscious, suddenly and rather painfully, of a lot of things. Her bedhead. Her morning breath. The fact that she still wasn’t ready to have sex with Jaiven, even though her body ached for his touch. And how strange this felt, trying for a relationship. Finding normal when she’d never even known what that was—and she didn’t think Jaiven had, either. “I’ll just be a sec,” she muttered, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Once inside she leaned her head against the mirror and closed her eyes. This was a whole new, and different, kind of awkward. She’d thought the aftermath of casual sex was hard, but last night they’d simply slept in the same bed and it felt even stranger.

Maybe you just can’t do relationships.

That wasn’t Jack’s voice, Louise knew; it was her own. Her own fear and insecurity and uncertainty. She’d never had a healthy romantic relationship. Not a single one. Pretty depressing for a thirty-two-year-old to admit, but there it was. The truth, unvarnished and unpalatable.

But just because you haven’t had one, doesn’t mean you can’t in the future. You can try. You can always try.

Her mouth tugged into a rueful smile. She felt like the Little Engine That Could, puffing away, trying to get up that hill of emotional health and wholeness. I think I can. I think I can.

Jaiven was trying, after all, and this had to be a whole new world of weird for him, too. Wonderful and weird, she told herself firmly, because last night had, in its own way, been wonderful. All that truth-telling. So much intimacy.

She felt emotionally a little worn-out this morning, but also physically invigorated. She’d slept well in Jaiven’s arms. She’d been at peace.

Taking a deep breath, she washed her face and brushed her teeth and then unlocked the door to face the day—and Jaiven.

He was sitting up in bed, still in his T-shirt and boxers, his hair rumpled and a pillow crease on one unshaven cheek. He looked, Louise thought, good enough to eat.

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