Page 24 of Don't Bite the Botanist
The shame overwhelmed him to the point that his cock finally decided to stand down, and something about the blood no longer rushing south reminded his body that it was still weak. His knees shook, and he let his full weight fall back against the dresser, forgoing the no longer needed pillow in lieu of gripping the wood with both hands.
“No, I’m not…” He frowned, fully aware he was traipsing through a mine field, and one wrong step could mean disaster. “I’m definitely not… because you’re…”
Fuck, he couldn’t even speak.
“Look,” he said, pushing up to standing when he felt certain his legs would hold him. “You are… I mean, you’re incredibly beautiful, Tressa. You know that. I know that. A blind preacher would know that. Any man would kill to be with you.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“And I’m including myself in that ‘any man’ statement, obviously,” he added before she could get the wrong idea. “But my mom raised me right and taught me that consent matters, so—”
“Ethan,” she interjected, swinging her legs around to sit on the side of the bed. “You more than had my consent.”
Her words eased a bit of the tension in his body, and he pushed off the dresser to take a step forward. Without something to occupy his hands, though, they quickly made their way into his standard crossed arms position.
Which apparently sent the wrong message. Again.
Tressa pursed her lips, assessing him with shrewd eyes. “It seems I should be more concerned about your consent since you were the one still asleep and clearly disturbed by what happened.”
“No!” Ethan shouted. Fueled by fear that he’d royally fucked up, he darted over to sit beside her on the bed and grabbed her hand. “Tressa, I would very,very, much like the opportunity to be with you. But right now…” He glanced around frantically for something to focus on besides those wide brown eyes that were now flooded with uncertainty.
Seeing no obvious way to change the subject, he pulled off his glasses and began wiping the lenses on his shorts while he gathered his thoughts. How exactly was he supposed to explain to the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen that despite being more than attracted to her, he couldn’t handle any distractions from his mission? And the stiff nipples pressing against her thin satin camisole were one—make that two—very big distractions.
“Breathe, Ethan,” Tressa said, running her hand down his back and sending tiny shocks straight to his groin. “I get it. You just got out of acoma, discovered vampires are real, and have plans to hunt one down. You got a lot on your plate. And while I would love for you to add me to that plate, I’m going to guess you’re not really hungry for more?”
Anxiety drained from his shoulders as her soft fingers traced soothing, nearly hypnotic patterns across his bare skin, and before his brain could contribute to the conversation, he responded, “Tressa, I would love to dine on you, but…”
Her lips ticked up into a grin, and he groaned when he realized what he’d said.
“Dinewithyou!” he blurted out. “Or, no, that’s not what I meant either. Fuck, can we use a different metaphor here?”
Ethan didn’t think he could blush harder. He’d never been nervous around women before, but for some reason, he couldn’t view Tressa the same as just any woman. She wasn’t a fellow scientist he met in the hotel bar at a pharma convention looking for a one-night stand. And she wasn’t a gym bunny who saw his muscles flexing on the weight bench and thought he would make an excellent additional workout. No, there was something different about her. Something special. Something he might very much want to pursue after the vampire was dealt with.
So long as he didn’t screw up his chances beforehand.
“Look,” he said, putting his glasses on and shifting to face her. “My blundering responses aside, you were right when you said I have a lot going on. This whole vampire thing kind of turned my world upside down, and I need to get a handle on that before I…”
“Get a handle on me?” she finished in a teasing tone.
He let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Well, in that case, no harm no foul,” she said, her voice resuming that chipper tone he knew wasn’t entirely authentic. “I’m guessing by the way you flew out of this bed, though, your strength and mobilityare coming back?”
Ethan glanced down at his legs. He couldn’t deny the muscle fibers were twitching overtime at the level of exertion he’d just used, but he hadn’t collapsed during their conversation which he was eternally grateful for. That extra layer of awkwardness would have made things beyond unbearable.
“Yeah, I think I’m doing okay,” he told her. “I doubt I’ll be bench-pressing my own body weight in the next day or two, but I think I can walk at least.”
“Great,” Tressa said, and Ethan could have sworn her smile was more forced than usual. “In that case, why don’t you take a shower while I go update the cadre about the latest attack. I’ll be back with breakfast shortly, and then I can show you around.”
She hopped off the bed, grabbed a robe from her closet, and wrapped it around her.
Ethan eyed the tightness in her face. Her bubbly facade was normally much more intact than this. Was she really that upset he didn’t want to pursue something with her right away? Fuck. He’d never been suave, never needed or cared to be, but for some reason, he didn’t want her shying away from him.
“Tressa…”
“Shower, Ethan,” she said quietly. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Then she was out the door, leaving only a cloud of intoxicating bubblegum scent and the unsettling feeling that she was more hurt by his dismissal than she had let on.
