“You do?”
“Sure. And you won’t know how you feel until you’re in that position, but at least I know where your head is at. We can work through it together.”
“You’re right.” He steps forward between my legs and towers over me in a way that makes me squeeze his thighs tighter. “I won’t know until I do it.”
Orson sinks to his knees.
Holy fucking shit.
I do a quick scan of my office windows, but no one is paying us attention anymore, and the desk is blocking Orson anyway.
Except when I glance back down to where he’s slowly reaching for the button on my pants, his eyes flick up to mine for a second, and I read the look in them.
Determination mixed with fear.
“Hey.” I cover my fly with one hand and tilt his face up to mine with the other. “While I appreciate you wanting to jump right in, this isn’t how I want it to go.”
“You don’t want me to blow you under your desk at work?” His voice is full of doubt. Accurately so, because when he says it like that, it sounds crazy.
I help him to his feet, and this time, I join him. Standing close, me looking down at him this time. “Why don’t we table that idea for another day? I’m dirty and sweaty, and trust me when I say you don’t want that for your first time.”
He narrows his eyes. “So what do I want?”
I smirk and throw his answer back at him. “Mutual respect. We’re gonna take it slow, okay? Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight, and we’ll see where things go. No pressure on anything happening. We’ll hang out, eat, cross the reality TV bullet point off our list, maybe cuddle.”
He laughs. “Cuddle?”
“Iloveto cuddle.”
“Is it weird that makes me more nervous than thinking about the sex stuff?”
“Nope. Not weird if that’s how you feel.”
“Okay. You’re cooking though, right? You might have only been joking before, but it’s not my favorite thing.”
“You like fish?”
“Sure.”
“Then I got you.” I take a chance to reach up and cup his face. His scruff is scratchy and warm against my palm. I lean in until our lips are a breath apart. “People can see us,” I remind him, giving him the choice to pull away.
He nods, then tilts his head up and seals his lips over mine. The kiss is soft, hesitant, full of promise. It sends shivers rippling along my spine. There’s no tongue, no hunger, but it’s the type of kiss that takes my breath away.
Then pain shoots through my nipple.
I hiss and pull away. “You’re gonna have fun with that, aren’t you?”
“I think it’s a new obsession of mine.”
As I gaze down into his face, happy but uncertain, I think I know exactly what he means. “You good?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure.”
I stroke his cheek. “Just so you know … I’m nervous too.”
17
Orson