“Want me to massage it again.”
I chuckle. “Only if you want to repeat what happened the last time you started rubbing me.”
She tucks her face against me and laughs. The sound pleases me—too much.
Chase, you’ve fucked up.
Megan slides a leg over mine. I rest my cheek against her head and appreciate the moment. It’s been too long since I’ve had a moment like this.
Have I ever had a moment like this? The question stirs something deep inside me.
“Can I be honest with you about something, Chase?”
“I hope you’re always honest with me.”
“Good.” She exhales as if she’s struggling to accept whatever she wants to say. “I feel a little guilty.”
I pull back, tipping her chin up so she’s looking at me. Her eyes are bright and vulnerable. My first instinct is to kiss her—to kiss away the vulnerability and show her I’m still here. But kissing isn’t what she needs. Not right now. She needs words and communication to work out whatever plagues her.
“What in the world do you have to feel guilty about?” I ask.
She smiles softly. “I knew when I offered to massage your shoulder that it probably wasn’t going to … end there.”
Fair enough. “Okay, well, if I’m being honest with you, I probably knew that too.” I wait for her to continue, to draw the line between her admission and her feelings of guilt. But her response doesn’t come. “I’m not following you, sweetheart.”
She slips out of my grip and nestles against me again.
“Hey,” I say, chuckling. “You’re not leaving me hanging. So what do you feel guilty about?”
“I … Did I just, you know, complicate this?”
“You mean, didwejust complicate this?”
She shrugs, her narrow shoulders slipping against the sheets.
“I was an active participant in tonight’s activities,” I say. “Do you think I should feel guilty for something? Because if you do, I don’t.”
She presses a kiss to my side, and it melts my insides.
“How is a woman like you single?” I ask. “It boggles my mind.”
“Gavin asked me that today too.”
“Did he now?”
She laughs. “As I told him, it’s pretty simple.”
“So explain.”Tell me everything you told him and more.
She sits up, and the sheet pools at her waist. The moonlight shines behind her, illuminating her figure with a soft, mutedglow. Her heavy breasts hang like teardrops, and the roundness of her stomach is utter perfection.
I rest my hand on her thigh, my fingers dangerously close to her pussy. I press them lightly into her soft flesh and will myself to listen. Ensure she knows I’m interested in more than just her body.
“I think I have a character flaw,” she says pensively. “I intentionally choose men I know aren’t a match—ones I know won’t work out. I think I told you this on the road when I broke down.”
“You did. I still don’t understand why, though.”
She shrugs, staring off into the night.
