"I'm not saying I don't wantthatwith you, that I don't want to pursue the sexual attraction between us. Because I am very attracted to you and until now, I guess I wasn't sure how you felt. But now that I know, I'm just saying, I think we should go slow." I don't see any hint of disappointment on his face, and of course I know he is because, well . . . he's a man. But he's too kind and genuine to show that emotion and I appreciate him for it because it doesn't cause my mind to go into overdrive and focus on it too much.
Instead, he just leans in and presses a small peck to my cheek before saying, "I can go slow, Weslyn." And I smile at him, thankful that he'll allow us to pace this.
But I would be lying if I didn't say I am on the verge of not giving a damn about pacing and timing and just…
I take a deep breath.
"I think I should head to bed," I state, and he doesn't protest as he steps out of the way for me.
He smiles as I walk past him, and for a second I think I'll regret it. Maybe I do. But I force myself not to turn around as I head into the spare bedroom with my things, hating the fact that I decided to do what most would callthe right thing.
26
Kyran
Overwhelming.
I know exactly what she's feeling.
But how could a sexual attraction be so overwhelming that it causes the need for a slower pace when we both know we don't want to stop? Though, she's probably right. I know she is. If we take things too fast and allow our desire to feed itself without either of us slowing down to actually taste it, then we might royally fuck up what we have, which believe it or not feels fucking rare and nice.
I let her walk away, and when I see her close the door to the spare room, I retreat to my own. It's not long before I brush my teeth, strip my shirt, and get into bed. I don't even turn on the TV or reach for a book. And I thought of taking a cold shower, as nearly an hour passes with no sleep in sight and the affects her body has on mine are still showing in evidence, but my shirt smells like her from when she was pressed so tightly against me. I don't have the urge to take that away just yet.
I roll over to my side, stuffing my hand under my pillow to try and force myself to sleep, when a slight buzz comes frommy side table.
I flip back over and sit up to see that my phone screen lights up, and I reach for it to find that it’s about fifteen minutes to midnight and Weslyn has texted me.
Are you awake?
I am.
I can't sleep.
Strange. Me neither.
Talk to me?
Of course.
My fingers hover over the keyboard displayed on my phone as I watch the text bubbles dance, indicating her response is coming soon. I know we're just rooms apart now, and I could just walk over and talk to her face to face, but I allow this to continue because this way, it's easier to not fall into that temptation. But I can't help but still feel the way I do even through text messages.
What are you wearing?
I laugh out loud as I read her message, especially because she sends it with awink emojiand I know she's just being a brat.
Seriously? Isn't that supposed to be some kind of cringe question guys should ask?
So then ask.
I let a minute tick by, reading the message repeatedly.
Don't be shy.
What are you wearing?
I send the message and watch as her response is forming.
I'm wearing a black, silk nightie. It's got lace on the top part where it touches my breasts. It's a spaghetti strap, so my shoulders are pretty bare. And underneath…
