Page 66 of Tripped Up

Wyatt takes my hand as he walks me up to my apartment. My palms are sweaty. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

Do I invite him in? I don’t know if I want to sleep with him. I mean, I do, because he’s fucking hot in that suit, and sue me, I’m human and horny.

But I don’t know if I’m mentally ready for it. I’ve forgiven him—for now—but I’m still on the lookout for any other unacceptable behavior. Hypervigilance is exhausting. Will I ever be able to trust him for real?

To my surprise, Wyatt stops outside my door and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

My eyebrows dart up to my hairline. “You asked me out.”

He clears his throat. “I did, yeah.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Elsy, you look—incredible. And if you think for a second every fucking guy in that restaurant didn’t wish you were there with them, you need to get your eyes checked. So, yes, thank you. Thank you for going out with me, and thank you for giving me a chance.” Wyatt’s eyes hold mine. “I’m not taking this lightly.”

Exhaling slowly, I find my key and open the door. “Do you want to come in?”

A smile stretches his face from ear to ear. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

“I don’t know that I’m ready to have sex,” I admit. “I just…”

He steps closer, his fingertips on my chin, tilting my head up. “What is it?”

“I’m not ready for the night to end.”

Leaning down, he brushes a soft kiss across my lips. “It doesn’t have to. Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

And that’s how we find ourselves, twenty minutes later, sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and another bottle of wine, a cheesy Hallmark movie on the TV. I’ve scrubbed off all my makeup and changed into sweatpants, my hair tied back in a messy bun. When he saw the bottles and pots lining my bathroom counter, he asked what they were for, so of course I had to put a clay mask on him. I mean, he did say whatever I want.

“It feels weird,” he says, poking at his face again.

“Don’t touch it.” I bat his hand away.

He pulls me into his side, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. His cologne tickles my nose in the best way, his familiar scent reassuring. He took off the tie and his shirt, leaving him in a thin cotton undershirt and his suit pants. It’s a good look for him.

I’d like him better if he were shirtless, though.

But that would mean opening that box I’m not sure I’m ready for.

When the timer goes off, I drag him into the bathroom to take off the mask, then slather his face in moisturizer and apply a softening lip balm.

“Is this a hint?” he asks, inspecting the lip balm. “Should I be using this more often?”

I can’t hide my smile as I reach up and press a light kiss to his lips. “Only if you want.”

His hand lands on my hip, drawing me close, and he kisses me more firmly.

“Only if you want.”

He’s putting the ball in my court. I’m in control here.

Threading my fingers through his, I pull him back to the couch, then shove him onto the cushions. I slide in beside him, drawing his arm over my shoulder and setting my hand on his thigh.

Wyatt tightens his arm around me, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so physically affectionate,” I say casually.