“It was a good decision to come back, Emily.” My blinks were slow as I gazed at her through my lashes.
She glanced away as though she couldn’t handle it. “Why are you single?”
“I choose to be. Ben plays a big factor in that. I don’t want to bring a woman into his life unless she’s the one I’m going to marry. And giving a woman that much time means hours away from my son, and I’m not about that.”
She leaned forward. “Are you saying you’re ... completely woman-free?”
“You mean celibate?” I chuckled.
“Thank you for saying that so I didn’t have to.”
I cocked my head. “If I was celibate, would you have a hard time believing it?”
“Yes.” Her face turned red again. “You’re, what, mid-thirties? That’s prime sex age. Plus, I’ve already told you how handsome I think you are, and I promise anyone who meets you feels the same way, so I’m sure the ladies come on strong.” She released her stomach to play with her lip. “We all have needs, Gavin. I would have a hard time believing you don’t. Or that you don’t take care of those needs.”
God, this was fun.
I placed my glass on the ottoman. “I’m struggling with something, Emily. Something I need you to tell me.”
“Okay . . .”
I was mentally stripping off her scrubs and rubbing my mouth across her neck. “Are you asking me what those needs are? Or are you wanting to see just how I take care of them?”
Chapter Three
Emily
Are you asking me what those needs are? Or are you wanting to see just how I take care of them?
Gavin had only said those words once in his deep, gritty, sexy voice, but I continued to hear them over and over as they repeated in my head. And when his cobalt gaze accompanied those two sentences, it felt as though I were sitting on this couch, buck-ass naked, panting, with my legs spread.
I was no prude. In fact, I was the complete opposite. Sexually, I was extremely in tune with my body and what I wanted.
But there was something about Gavin—the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel, the size of his body and how I found him so consumingly handsome—that made me realize I didn’t have the sexual upper hand.
He did.
And I willingly gave it to him.
With each second of silence that passed, my nerves came on stronger, and a shyness was building—two things that normally didn’t have a presence, but they’d been churning inside me since I took a seat in his living room, the two warring with one another.
“I ...” My voice cut off. Why was I having such a hard time expressing myself? Because this whole night felt like a fantasy? Because I never envisioned getting a close-up of the man I’d been drooling over at the hockey game? Because I was so sex deprived, I was mentally humping his words? “Yes, I’m asking you what those needs are, and I’m also wanting to see just how you take care of them.”
I felt his exhale even though there was a whole cushion between us.
Stillness followed.
Five seconds, ten. I didn’t know how long we sat like that. It just seemed that nothing was moving aside from what was happening in me.
And then, suddenly, he got up from the couch and stood in front of me, holding out his hand for me to take. “Come with me.”
Did this mean he was going to show me how he took care of his needs?
The tingles in my body weren’t just igniting—they were exploding.
Even more so as my fingers landed within his grasp. A touch that made me breathless. That made my insides melt toward my outsides, the aching between my legs increasing to a throbbing.
Once I was on my feet, his palm pressed to mine, he lifted the bottle we’d been drinking from and walked me into the kitchen. The closeness was a heat I wasn’t expecting. His stature and broadness, while still a pace ahead, made me feel the tiniest.
