My brain is spiraling and Seamus seems entirely at peace, his mouth-watering body long and sprawled out like he owns the place.
“Are you always this comfortable being naked in public places?” I mutter, trying to pull the sheet up to cover my chest as discreetly as I can.
He glances at me with a lazy, satisfied grin. “Not always. I’m feeling pretty good right now, though. What happened was incredible.You’reincredible.”
“Like you’d know. I’m your only frame of reference.” I snort, trying to pretend like the compliment doesn’t make my insides flutter.
“Well,” his hand glides over my thigh, “as far as I’m concerned, it was perfect. I’m ready for round two.”
My smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes. The truth is, I’m not some wildly experienced femme fatale who’s had dozens of lovers and years of practiced confidence.
Not even close.
If we’re being technical, Seamus has more hands-on experience than I ever have. More bodies. More skin. More ways of making someone feel good.
What guts me a little—catches me right in the center of my chest—is why he choseme. With all the women who’ve thrown themselves at him over the years, he could have had anyone. Clearly, he thought of his virginity as something sacred. He pickedmefor his final step.
I’ll always have that honor.
I’m not sure how to feel. I never thought I’d be in this position. I’ve spent my life trying to be smart and capable and good, I don’t allow myself to want. Or believe I could be wanted likethis.
There’s no way I’ll make this moment about me, though, so I smack his chest playfully. “You’re incorrigible.”
He catches my wrist and kisses the inside of it, and I swear my heart skips a beat. Then props himself up on one elbow and the sheet shifts off us.
Lying bare beside him, I’m painfully aware of how my body settles. My breasts—heavy and full—spread slightly to the sides, the weight of them unmistakable against my ribcage. They’ve always felt like too much. Under his gaze, my nipples pucker, making me more aware of every inch of myself.
I breathe slowly, trying to keep still. The rise and fall of my chest gives me away. I feel exposed in every possible way—yet I don’t move to cover myself. For once, I resist the urge to hide.
“Marcella,” his thumb traces the edge of my jaw, “are you okay?”
I blink, taken off guard. “Yeah. I…someone could walk in.”
He chuckles. “I told you. No one’s using this floor. You saw the signs—‘Renovation Begins January 1st.’ We have, what? Three weeks? Think of the damage we could do to this bed.”
“Stop.” I laugh, then bite my lip. “Seriously, though. We should go.”
Seamus brushes a lock of hair from my face. “Come to my place. I’ll make dinner. Or order dinner. Whatever you want. I’m not ready for this to be over.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Come to his place? The idea sends a bolt of panic and excitement through me. I don’t know what I expected to happen. It certainly wasn’t him wanting more.
If anything, I figured he’d already be gone.
“I’m sweaty and my hair’s a mess,” I stall.
“You’re perfect,” he says without hesitation. “If you’re more comfortable at your place, I’ll come with you.”
My eyebrows lift. “You want to come over?”
“I want more. I want to give you more.” He kisses me sweetly. “Anywhere you are is where I want to be.”
I blink, thrown. I’ve heard a lot of lines in my life—some sweet, some gross, some downright manipulative. Seamus? He’s not laying it on thick. He’s being honest.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” I whisper, almost to myself.
He smiles. “Oh, I have some ideas. Let me show you.”
