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I smile against his mouth.
“What do you want, Kennedy?”
It’s simple, really. I want to feel confident and prepared. I don’t want these nerves to be rattling through me the next time I’m in a man’s bedroom. But I also have no idea what the steps are to get there other than experience.
Slipping under his arm, I back away towards the other side of the bed, holding eye contact with him while I dip under the covers.
“I want this,” I say once fully hidden by both the darkness and the sheets. Then I pull my T-shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the floor.
“Jesus,” Isaiah exhales from across the room, running a palm over his disbelieving face. “I’ve always imagined what you might look like right there.”
I watch the careful steps he takes to his side of the bed. They’re calculated and slow, done in a way that makes me think he’s attempting to catalog every moment of this.
He gets under the covers with me, keeping his body to his side, careful not to touch me, with his eyes locked on mine, and not allowing them to drift anywhere else.
It’s sweet in a way I never expected Isaiah to be. In the years I’ve known him, I’ve categorized him as the impulsive team clown, always doing or saying something ridiculous to earn a laugh from his teammates.
But here, with me, he’s... patient.
And shirtless.
Why is he always shirtless?
“Kennedy,” he whispers, facing me. “I need you to use your words and tell me exactly what you want. Or what you don’t want.”
“I don’t know what I don’t want.”
“Okay. How about we have a safe word then? Something you can say when you’re feeling uncomfortable.”
“I don’t want a safe word with you. I know I might be uncomfortable, but that’s the point of all of this. To get the awkward firsts out of the way.”
“Well, I’d feel better if we had one. I don’t want to accidentally cross a line you don’t want me to cross.”
If I’m being honest, at this point, there’s not a single thing he could do that I wouldn’t want him to. But still he doesn’t back down.
“Fine.” I lift my chin. “If I have to have a safe word, I guess it’ll be ‘Mrs. Rhodes.’”
He barks a laugh. “You picked the one thing you’ll never say?”
“Yep.”
“You’re such a fucking brat.”
I smile back at him, my head resting on his spare pillow.
“Here’s the thing, Ken.” Reaching out, he cradles the back of my head, thumb dusting over my jaw. “You’re going to have to set the pace because I have craved you here, in my bed, since the day we met, and that need has only gotten worse now that I know you. Regardless of whatever bullshit I said while under the spell that was Chili’s, the truth is, I’d fuck you right now if you asked me to. I’d go slow if that’s what you wanted. Or I’d make it rough. But I also can’t read your mind, so again, I’m going to need you to use your words and set the pace.”
Words? He thinks I have words to say after that?
I try to find some. “I want to take it slow.”
He nods in agreement. “Then we’ll take it slow.”
It’s not like I’m a virgin. I’ve had sex, but it hasn’t exactly been the kind of sex you read about in books or see romanticized in movies. It’s always been straight to the main event and over as soon as he was done.
As a scientist, I tried to justify it to myself—if he finished, at least it was enjoyable enough for him to do so.
But as a woman, I want more.
