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But does she feel the same way about me?
After making himself dinner, he sat down in front of the TV to watch football, but he couldn’t concentrate. Quiet thumps indicated Sara occasionally moving around upstairs, and his gaze drifted up again and again. As their earlier discussion ran through his head, Jack’s face warmed, and he swiped a hand over his chin. “Shit, I really overreacted there.”
Communication wasn’t one of his strengths, and Sara obviously hadn’t been pleased with his reaction. His first instinct had been to focus on her announcement as a reason to stay away from her. But was that fair? He leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. “I need to apologize. I was an asshole.”
Another sound came from upstairs, and he stood with a sigh and left his apartment, climbing the stairs. He raised his hand before her door to knock, then hesitated. What if she’s still really pissed? She’ll probably yell at me. He scowled at himself. “Stop being such a wimp. You deserve to get yelled at.” With that, he rapped three times and held his breath, expecting the worst.
When Sara opened the door, her eyes were big and red-rimmed, and the breath he’d been holding exploded out.
Oh, shit. This is worse.
He hated it when women cried, even more when he was the cause. She sniffed and stared at him, but didn’t say anything.
“Do you think we could try that conversation again?” he asked. “I’m not really sure what happened there, except that I reacted like a complete asshole. I’m sorry.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and his heart flopped over, raising all four of its proverbial legs in the air. “I was trying to make you happy,” she whispered.
He still stood on her threshold. “Can I come in?” He spoke softly, but his gut was twisting.
She jerked a nod. “Please?”
With that he rushed forward, holding his arms out. She tumbled into them and cried against his shoulder. He led her to the couch, then cradled her against his chest, feeling like dog shit.
No, worse.
“I’m sorry. Please stop crying.” He stroked her head softly, repeating the words every now and again for good measure, and eventually she quieted.
Sara sat up, snuffling, and reached behind the couch. She grabbed a box of tissues off the table, dabbing her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. I thought you’d be happy.”
“Oh, darlin’, I’m not mad. I’m so sorry. Like I told you this afternoon, I’m pretty rusty at all this. I didn’t put it well. At all.”
“You don’t think I’m a slut?”
“Of course not.” God, Powell. What is wrong with you? Then something occurred to him, and he cupped her face. “I never said you were a slut. It never even entered my mind.”
“You kind of insinuated I was easy.”
“I’m sorry. You said you had never gotten seriously involved before. I took that to mean you keep your relationships… casual.” He held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t blow up at that.
She didn’t. Instead, she sat back on the couch, leaning her head back. “I have kept them casual. I lived with a guy when I was twenty-one—I was head over heels. Until he left me for a hot chick with a killer body. He was pretty clear about the reasons.” She rolled her head to meet his gaze. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid of getting hurt, ok?”
He turned sideways to face her as he stroked a finger down her arm. “He was an idiot. You are a hot chick with a killer body.”
She stared tiredly at the wall. “You don’t have to humor me. It’s ok.”
“What do you mean? Sara, I think you’re incredible. All of you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Her eyes misted up again. Shit, did I say the wrong thing again?
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.” She turned to look him full in the face. “Jack, I like being with you, and I’ve never been promiscuous—ever. But I’m not looking for a deep, serious relationship. Is that ok with you?”
And that’s the million-dollar question. But maybe one that doesn’t need to be answered just yet. “Yes. We moved pretty quickly into this. Let’s just take things as they come, all right?”
She smiled. “That sounds great. I feel really comfortable around you, and that’s important to me.”
“Good. It’s important to me too.” He relaxed again, slowly drawing a finger across her shoulder. “I think your curves are glorious. You’re exactly what a woman should look like.” He moved to the center of her low-cut top, drawing his index finger down that deep, delicious valley. “And don’t get me started on your breasts.” When he met her gaze again, she was smiling. He locked his eyes on her mouth. “I could go on for days about your lips.”
He gently kissed her, wanting to be soft and seductive. But she grabbed the back of his head and smashed into his mouth, her tongue demanding.
