Page 21 of Adrian

I’m irrationally nervous as I crawl onto the bed, trying not to flash him my pussy—which he’s pretty much already seen. I’m startled when he pulls the covers over me and sits on the edge of the bed.

He sets one palm on the other side of my hips. “You don’t need to panic. We’re not having sex tonight.”

“No?” I lift a brow.

“Nope. I’m not putting that kind of pressure on you. Plus, you’ve had a long day that ended with you nearly getting killed in a storm. You need your sleep.”

Shockingly, I’m not exactly relieved. A part of me would kind of like this man to fuck my brains out. Yes, walking here in that storm was scary as fuck. Yes, I could have been struck by a tree and now be lying on that path, bleeding to death. Yes, I was fucking cold when I arrived. But the only lasting remnants of my stupidity are a few abrasions on my elbows, palms, and knees. Nothing that won’t disappear quickly.

I should be totally exhausted from the stress, but instead, I’m wide awake. Intrigued by this man who has basically proposed to me. If there’s even the smallest chance in hell that I’d consider marrying this man, I’m going to want to have had sex with him first.

“That being said,” he continues before I have a chance to formulate an appropriate response, “I’ll be happy to sleep on the couch if it makes you feel less nervous.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get into bed.”

He chuckles. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m not the one who declared we weren’t having sex.”

Groaning, he stands and rounds to the other side. As soon as he’s under the covers, he rolls toward me and reaches out. “Come here.”

Hoping he’s changed his mind, I scoot closer and turn to face him. The lamp is still on, so I don’t have to guess about his expressions. He’s smirking.

Adrian reaches up and brushes a lock of hair away from my face before grazing a finger down my cheek and over my lips. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty damn handsome yourself. Are you always so altruistic on a first date?”

He chuckles. “Yes.”

I stare at him. “Really?”

His brows furrow. “Yes. I’ve never slept with a woman on the first date. I wouldn’t want any woman to think I took her out so I could get in her pants.”

“Ah, but I’m not wearing any. And this isn’t really a date. Or, by the same token, you could say it’s our second date since we also saw each other earlier.”

“Why are you trying so hard to get into my pants, Blair?” His voice is filled with genuine curiosity.

For a few moments, I consider how I want to answer him before going with the truth. “To be honest, I’ve never met anyone I’ve had a spark with before. I’ve dated men. I’ve had sex with several. No one has ever made me tingle. Until you. I’m honestly more turned on lying next to you without us touching than I’ve ever been with any man I’ve actually had sex with.”

He slowly smiles. “That’s promising.”

I roll my eyes. “The point is, there’s no way I would marry someone I haven’t slept with. Seems like a horrible idea. What if we weren’t good in bed?”

He reaches for my hand and threads our fingers together, taking his time in responding. “I both hate and love that you’ve never felt a spark with another man. I hate that you’ve been denied the experience for twenty-six years, but my head is growing a bit larger knowing you feel tingly with me.”

“Oh great…” I tease.

“As for us being good in bed, you already know the answer to that. The room is shimmering and hot from our lust. And, for the record, I’ve also never felt this connected to a woman. It was always just sex. Scratching an itch. It’s not going to be that way with you. I can feel it in my bones.”

I agree. He’s right. “But what if it isn’t?” I counter.

His eyes narrow. “Tell me about these bad lovers you’ve had. Did any of them make you come?”

My face heats. “No,” I whisper. “I was, however, the common denominator in every relationship I’ve been in.”

He smiles warmly. “Baby…”

I love that he’s started calling me baby. Not princess. Though I don’t mind so much when he calls me princess, either. He doesn’t mean it in an insulting way. He isn’t implying I’m high-maintenance or uppity. When he uses that word, I genuinely think he sees me as worthy of being treated like a princess.