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Nina reaches up and wipes a bead of sweat from my brow. She cups the back of my shoulder and pulls me down to her. I keep my weight balanced on my arms, so I don’t crush her, and kiss her.
I ease out of her, deal with the condom, and come back to the bed. She’s lying exactly where I left her.
“Can I stay in here with you tonight?” she asks, looking up at me with wide eyes.
“I don’t let women stay the night,” I say bluntly.
It’s true. I’m not a cuddler. Curling up with someone in your most vulnerable, sleeping state leads to attachment, and I avoid that at all costs.
Nina studies my face. She doesn’t look upset. Just curious.
“Why are you so guarded?” she asks quietly. “I get it. I have a few walls up too. But you have a whole iron dome around your heart. You don’t let anyone in, do you?”
“Anyone like my personal concierge for the month?” I tease.
I don’t mean it to come out cruel, especially while I’m lying naked next to her. It’s a reflex, pulling back from emotions before anybody gets too close.
“Sorry,” I say when a small frown forms on her lips. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’d rather solve problems than tap into my emotions. I’m not big on attachment or unnecessary relationships.”
“Someone burned you pretty bad, huh?” Her eyes are full of compassion.
It’s compassion I probably don’t deserve.
“You could say that.”
It’s remarkable that she’s still this warm and caring and soft after what her ex did to her. There’s something about Nina that makes people feel included, even though she’s technically here to do a job, and none of us knew her before this.
She probably thinks my burn was like hers, a morally questionable ex. Not a mother who left my father and me for another man when I was young.
The effect was no less scarring. Watching my father collapse after building his entire life around someone who chose to leave taught me more than any soured relationship could have. It taught me never to let myself need someone beyond the physical.
I refuse to ever depend on someone enough to be destroyed by their absence.
That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a beautiful woman, though.
When Nina starts to slide away, I plant my hands on the bed on either side of her.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I thought you didn’t want me to stay.”
She’s adorable when she’s confused, and I feel myself getting hard again against her thigh.
“Who says I’m ready to go to sleep?” I press my hips into hers.
Her face lights up at the idea of a second round. But I notice something else behind her eyes, a sort of retreat, as if she isn’t sure she should let herself go again.
“I want to make you come again and again, Nina, until your body can’t take any more,” I say. “You can let go with me. What happens in this bed stays here. It doesn’t affect your job, and I’ll never use it as leverage over you. That’s not the kind of man I am.”
Her whole body relaxes. She leans up and kisses me, pulling me down tighter until her breasts press against my chest. I reach for the nightstand again.
When I push back inside her, everything is warm and slick and even more primed than before. This time, we make it last longer. And this time, I’m not the only one who can’t stay quiet when we come together.
Afterward, we lie tangled up, catching our breath. The cool air in the house hits our damp skin and makes Nina shiver. I pull the blanket over her, content to stay like this. But fatigue wins. Her eyes close, her head settles against my shoulder, and a few moments later, her breathing turns soft and steady.
I could wake her and walk her back to her room. Instead, I’m much too comfortable with her in my arms to move. Staying will be a mistake. I already know that. I never stay with a woman in my arms through the night.
Mistake or not, I pull Nina closer and close my eyes. I don’t know what it is about this woman that has me doing things I’ve never done before. Whatever it is, it scares and exhilarates me.
