Page 16 of My Sexy Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 2)
“Do you even think you’ll stay?”
“I want to. So much. And I like you. So much,” he said, and stopped to look at me, his eyes hooking into me. “And maybe now you’re yet another reason I really want to stay.”
My eyes widened, and I felt the breath knocked out of me. “I am?”
He bent his head to my neck, pressing a soft kiss against my skin before he looked back into my eyes. “Yes. Does that scare you?”
I shrugged. “A little. I mean we only met three days ago.”
“I know,” he said, running his hand along my hip. “And I have no clue what’s going to happen. All I know is I enjoy hanging out with you immensely, and I want more of you.”
A ribbon of worry cut through me. More of me. Did I have any more to give? I was stretched thin with work, and school, and volunteering, let alone going to medical school next fall. How on earth could I ever give any more of myself? But yet, I couldn’t deny that being with William was the one pure spot of pleasure in my life. He was chocolate, he was cake, he was ice cream, and I wanted to gobble him up. The moments with him were the times when I wasn’t wound tight. I could let go with him. I wouldn’t be able to let go at all next year, or for the next four years once medical school started. Maybe more of him was exactly what I needed right now. A finite amount of more. Not a commitment. Not a promise. Just a smidgeon. He gently took hold of my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
“I want that, too, but getting close worries me,” I admit. “I don’t want to relapse or anything.”
“I completely respect that. I truly do, but you’re stronger than you think, Jess. I know you worry that you have to have the world rotating at the perfect pace and everything going a certain way. But if anyone has it together, Jess, it’s you.”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I soaked up his words and the way he seemed to know me so well already. Maybe I could have it all. Maybe I was stronger than I thought when it came to guys and food. Maybe I was on the other side of my eating disorder.
“And look,” he continued. “I don’t know if I’m staying or going. I have no clue what happens. All I know is the last few days with you have been fantastic and I would love to keep seeing you while I’m here. I would love it if you’d be my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. It was as if all the sound zipped out of the apartment at once, turning the air silent. I hadn’t been anyone’s girlfriend in a long time, and my body froze at the prospect. But then I thawed because being with him was safe. I wouldn’t let myself get too close with him possibly leaving, and with me starting school next fall. Maybe I could truly have my cake and eat it, too.
Him.
“You’re kind of like cake,” I murmured.
He raised an eyebrow in question.
“You’re like cake to me and I want cake,” I added.
He laughed, a deep, rumbly belly laugh that seemed to echo in the room, filling it back up with noise and the sweetness of laughter. “Knowing how you feel about food, I will happily be your cake.”
“Then come back on top of me because that felt pretty good, what you were doing earlier,” I said, and in a heartbeat he was over me again, his hard body aligning with mine.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” I said back, and something about this moment felt like we had stepped over a line and onto the other side.
He rocked against me, his erection pressed hard into my thigh. I shivered as a wave of goosebumps rushed over my skin. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, giving in to the letting go.
“I love touching you, Jess. For so many reasons,” he said as he rubbed against me. “But especially because I like watching you let go of your grip on the world.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” he said, thrusting against me. “I do. I love it. I love how it’s the one time when you let yourself feel good. I love that you do that with me.”
“You make me feel good,” I said, my breath feathering against his cheek.
“I would love to make you feel even better,” he said, and a flurry of white-hot sparks ignited in my belly with the suggestion. Heat pooled between my legs, and I was dying for him to touch me.
“How?” I asked as I looped my hands around to his ass, dipping them back into his jeans once more.
“However you’ll let me,” he said, his voice turning low and husky and so full of need. He wanted me to feel good, wanted me to let go beneath him, and that sounded pretty damn appealing to me, too. Better than cake, better than chocolate. Touching him was like having all the things I kept at a distance.
