Page 46 of Raff
I turned my head on the pillow to look over at her. “What would it take to convince you it’s real?”
Her head turned as well, and I didn’t imagine the way her gaze slid to my lips, then quickly back up.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But maybe it’s a bad time to even talk about it with the whole… Drake thing.”
“Were you two more involved than you initially said?”
To that, she exhaled hard.
“No. But it was… floating there. It was a possibility. And we both kind of hinted at it. I was picturing building an empire with him.”
“Baby doll, you’re more than capable of building an empire without a man. You don’t need one for that.”
“Then what do I need one for?”
“To cheer you on. To share your successes with. To comfort you when things fall apart. To come home to…”
“To take care of me?”
“You hate that thought, don’t you?”
She pressed her lips together at that. “I think I hate the implication that I might need to be taken care of more than I hate the idea of being taken care of.”
“You don’tneedit, no. But wouldn’t it be nice?”
Her gaze found mine again, and I could practically see her cataloging all the times I’d made sure to take care of her so far in both little and bigger ways: the nice motels and spa packages, the food, drinks, crafts.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I think it would be nice.”
I could have done it then.
Leaned in.
Pressed my lips to hers.
Kissed her until she was moaning and writhing.
Rolled her under me.
Got to touch, taste, and feel every inch of her.
I could have.
She would have let me.
With any other woman, I would have taken the opportunity.
The problem was, this wasn’t any woman; this was Lula.
And maybe she would have been ready for a kiss, a touch, an orgasm. But she wasn’t for anything more than that.
I knew Lula.
I had one shot at this.
I had to get it right.
What might feel right in the moment, though, wasn’t what would be right long-term.
