GRADEN
I fucking hate it.
Everything about it. It’s boring. I can’t understand what they’re saying. Nobody bangs anybody and there are no car chases.
But Rebecca is curled up on me asleep, and I’m not moving.
Maybe ever.
Everything about her is soft and pleasing to me. I want to explore every curve with my hands and my mouth. See if she tastes as sugary as she smells.
I got it bad man.
And she's cherry.
Shit.
I don't know what to do with that information. I know what I want to do with it. She thinks it's an anchor, but to me it's a beacon. A homing signal. I want to be her first…and her last. That's the scary part.
She deserves a guy who'll marry the shit out of her and keep her pregnant and happy. Take care of her. Be her partner. Me? I don't know how to do that. There's a reason I work on a fucking oil rig in the middle of the goddamned ocean, man. I never wanted hearth and home and whatever goes along with it. I like knowing my life can fit in a rucksack if I need it to. I don't want a wife or kids or a house.
But I wish I did. I wish I could step up into that life and take my place next to Rebecca. Haul her ass to the altar. Keep her in bed until I plant enough of my seed in her to make her a mama.
My cock sure as hell likes the idea. But that monster needs to take a fucking time out.
She stirs a little in her sleep. She's got on plaid drawstring pajamas and a T-shirt. No bra. Fuck. I need to stop looking at her tits. But they're so pretty. Soft, round melons that make me ache. I can see the faint outline of her nipples, and that's crossing the line, so I tear my gaze away and it lands on a strip of skin exposed between her shirt and pants. It looks so soft. Lickable.
Rebecca snuggles deeper into me and I feel the tree trunk in my pants grow even harder. This isn't right. I shouldn't want her so much. She's not trying to be sexy—she's just being herself. Just trusting me. I'm the biggest asshole.
"Why are you scowling?" Her voice startles me as she sits up, stretching her neck. "Your foot hurting?"
"No, sorry. Just deep in thought."
She yawns and stretches, her shirt riding up a little more. I'm doomed. "Sorry I fell asleep."
"Nothing to be sorry for."
She cocks her head at me, her gaze inquisitive. "Are you mad at me?"
"No."
"Really? Because your jaw is rigid, and there's a little tic thing happening in your mandible and you practically growled at me when you said no."
I take a deep breath. "I'm pissed at the asshole who made you feel bad. That's all."
She pulls her legs crisscrossed, getting comfortable, and I feel this weird feeling of pride that she's settling in to talk to me. Like we're friends. Like this could be what we did every night if we always lived together. Her sitting cross-legged on the couch looking at me like I had all the answers.
A guy could get used to it.
Don't.
"You should help me," she says.
"Help you what?"
"Figure out what I'm doing wrong. With men. Like a class…Real Man Seduction 101. You could teach me how to entice a guy like you."
Holy fuckballs.
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, obviously, I'm not doing something right. I need a guy's perspective. Someone who will be honest with me and steer me the right direction. I want to know how to get and keep the interest of a guy like you."
"A guy like me?"
She nods. "Yeah, a guy like you." She looks at me and pales. "You have total resting bitch face or you're pissed. Why is this making you mad?"
I try to relax my face, but she's mistaken about the anger. I'm not mad. I'm feeling about ninety percent caveman right now. I don't want to scare her or make her uncomfortable, but I want to pull her under me and take her. Hard. It's bad enough she just asked me to help her, but help her get with another guy? Every cell in my body is rebelling like it's wrong. Like she belongs to me and me alone. And like I should show her with my cock who she belongs to.
I take a deep breath and will my muscles to loosen the fuck up. "What is a guy like me?"
"Are you fishing for compliments, roomie?" She tosses a pillow at me. "Well, aside from being sexy, you're confident. In charge. You know how to take care of things. You're a real man. You're honest, straightforward. You don't ask women out and then text them when you change your mind. When I'm with you, I feel safe, like nothing could hurt me. Like you'll take care of me. That's how I want to feel."
That's how she wants to feel with another guy.
But shit, she thinks I'm sexy.
"I think you deserve a guy better than me, sweetheart. I wasn't raised right. No role models. A series of strange men who would pretend to be my buddy for the three weeks or so they could handle being with my mom and then they were gone. She was…unstable. And some of those guys…let's just say the sooner they left the better. She wasn't good at picking winners. It wasn't until your brother came along that I even had a real friend."
Her face goes all soft. "I didn't know that. I guess we never talked about family before."
"Not much to say." I don't want her pity, that's for sure. But I do like all her attention focused on me like this. She has a way of making me feel like a better person than I am.
"My folks are great. A little…old-fashioned and always more broke than not. But Cam and I had good examples. I want a relationship like theirs." She sighs. "But I can't seem to find the right guy."
"You're setting your bar too low. That's your problem with men. It's not you; it's them. You're dating the wrong ones, is all."
She shakes her head. I want, God do I want, to show her how amazing I think she is. I don't have the kind of words she needs. The ones she deserves. Someone who has a better education than I do is who she should be looking at. Someone who has better manners and can guide her through society better. A guy who'll give her all the babies she wants. Someone who knows how to love a woman.
And whoever that asshole is, I hate him for being what she needs. What she's really looking for. I hate him for not being me.
"I'm dating the guys who ask me out. If they are the wrong ones, then I need help finding the right ones to ask. So, how does a girl like me get a guy like you interested?"
I need off this couch. Out of this room.
"You just need to be yourself, baby. That's all. You don't need to do a damned thing to be desirable. You already are."
She's turtling up because she doesn't believe me. I can see her withdrawing. Her body curls into itself as she pulls her knees up and hugs them. "I get it. I shouldn't have asked for your help."
"Becks, look at me."
She does and, fuck, I'm lost. Those sweet baby-blues are watery. I can't let her cry. Not when all she needs is for me to help her find her confidence.
"Sweetheart, you are beautiful. You told me you think I'm honest, so believe me when I tell you that. I won't ever lie to you. You're safe with me. And if you need something from me, you will get it. Always. Whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?" She gets this mischievous grin I haven't seen before. "Then what I want is for you to help me seduce someone just like you. Tomorrow, we're going to the mall and you're going to help make me over."
"The mall?" I fucking hate the mall.
"You said anything. Besides, you're supposed to get a little exercise for that foot every day. We'll get some walking in, and then you can prop it up the rest of the day."
"What do you want at the mall?"
"An outfit or two that doesn't make me look like a kindergarten teacher would be nice."
"You are a kindergarten teacher." Why doesn't she want to look like one? I like the soft clothes she wears. The way she always looks ready for a hug. Like she isn't afraid of getting mussed up.
"I want to entice a man into bed, Graden. I need him to look at me like I'm a sex-toy made for pleasure, not a frumpy teacher."
Fuck. Me.