Page 86 of Tony

I take a breath and let it out. “I think so. But… what am I getting ready for?”

His only answer is a soft chuckle. He takes me over to his bike, unhooks the helmets, and we put them on. It’s chilly out. Probably a little too cold to be riding. But home is very close and when I get on behind him and wrap my arms around his middle, he’s luxuriously warm.

I lean my face into his back, my head pressed against the leather of his jacket. He kicks the engine and slowly backs up, the roar of his bike filling the relative quiet of downtown. There are only a few people about, but every single one of them turns to look at us as we head towards Mountain Avenue and then make a right.

My stomach flutters again. Because I am literally two minutes away from what comes next and I don’t have any idea of what that might be.

Well. Come on now, Belinda. You know what that means. We are going to have sex. The hand-holding is over. The first kiss is over. And if I’m being honest, if we don’t have sex, I’ll probably be disappointed.

What if he wants to take it slow?

I don’t think I can do slow. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened today.

Which is… weird. Since this morning I had absolutely no plans on fucking this man and now it’s all I can think about.

Yes. I might not have realized that’s what I was obsessing over this whole night at work, but that’s what I was obsessing over.

And I’m nervous.

When was the last time I was nervous about being with a man?

I was never nervous with Tony. With Tony, I was always angry. It was a totally different kind of heat. Not a pleasant one, either. Even when I look back on the few good times, I don’t get a sense of longing or nostalgia.

My feelings for Vann are nothing like my feelings for Tony and that is a very good way to start a new thing.

Too soon we are pulling into the driveway. Vann parks his bike at the side of the garage closest to the house and we get off. I take my helmet and just kinda stand there, unsure what to do next.

“Now what?” I say, looking up at him.

He takes my helmet from me with one hand and laces the fingertips of his other one into mine. Then we’re walking towards his porch.

He says nothing. He doesn’t pause to ask me if I want to come inside when we get to the front door, just maneuvers the handle with his arm, opens the door, and walks me inside.

He kicks the door closed with his foot, drops the helmets onto a bench where half a dozen other helmets live, and then we’re walking towards the expansive staircase that leads upstairs.

I have been inside the Vaughn mansion many times. I have been in the front room, I have used the bathroom, I have eaten in the dining room, and I’ve probably hung out in the kitchen with them hundreds of times.

But I have never been upstairs.

Crossing the front room takes a few moments because it’s large. Larger than the family room on the east side of the house or the formal living room on the west side, behind the staircase. And it doubles as a dining room, so we have to weave our way around the immense table. And that means I have time to wonder if I’m doing the right thing.

But those moments pass without me actually coming to any sort of conclusion and then we’re climbing the old, wooden stairs, him one step ahead of me, our footsteps creaking loudly. Loud enough that I worry one of the other Vaughn men will hear us and create an awkward moment filled with questions I have no answers for.

But then Vann looks over his shoulder at me and grins. “You’re nervous.”

“No,” I lie.

“You lie, Belinda Baker. I know you’re nervous because I’m nervous too.”

“Why are you nervous?” I whisper. “This was your idea.”

He stops at the top of the stairs and turns to look at me. “Because I like you. You know this. I have liked you since I first saw you eight years ago.”

I huff at that. Eight years ago he was in high school. I was only twenty-one, but still. He didn’t have a chance in hell of dating me. You don’t date a high-school boy when you’re twenty-one, no matter how cute and charming he is.

“And I don’t want to fuck it up by going too fast, but…” He pauses. “I’m willing to risk it at this point. Because it took me eight years to make you see me, Belinda. And if you change your mind tomorrow, there’s not much I can do about that. It’s your mind and your decision. So if, tonight, you’re gonna let me take you upstairs and show you what you’re missing, I’m gonna do that.”

“I don’t know what to say.”