Chapter 15
Nicholas
I look at her like my eyes are about to fall out of my head. My fists are on the table, balled so tight that they’re turning white. She can’t be saying the words that I’m hearing. My mind is fucking with me.
“Blakely…”
“I want this, Nicholas,” she persists. “I write about sex all day. My characters get more action than I do. It’s ridiculous,” she laughs coyly. “I just want to feel a little bit of that. I just want to experience all the things I write about.”
“Wait – so you want to practice…your sex scenes…with me? You want to use me as your guinea pig?”
Her face goes red. “Oh my god,” she whispers, “don’t say it like that. You make it sound so dirty. But, that’s the gist of it.”
I’ve never heard a more tempting offer but I can’t accept it. She deserves so much more than a guy like me. I have too many rough edges she could hurt herself on. “I’m sorry, Blakely. I can’t.” I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she woke up tomorrow or the day after and regretted this decision. I can’t allow myself to take advantage of her vulnerability.
She looks away from me, cheeks red, eyes downcast. I think she might be embarrassed. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I need her to know that.
With a crooked finger, I lift her face to mine. "You’re not the problem, Blakely. It’s me," I whisper. “You’re absolutely perfect. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”
Her bottom lip trembles and tears rise to her eyes, the pain of my rejection broadcast plain as day on her face.
“Shit,” I mutter, shoving my fingers through my hair. I have to make her understand that I’m saying ‘no’ to be a good guy, not because I don’t want her.
“Blakely, you’re fucking gorgeous and I’m so attracted to you. But you probably already know that. It’s just that, I’m not the guy you need.”
She pushes away from the table like she’s about to stand up. “I’m sorry. I just thought you wanted…” Her shaky words trail off.
I reach out and touch her lips. “I do. You’re insanely beautiful. But me…I – I…” How do I explain this to her without telling her how broken I am? I’ve got Asperger’s, dammit. I could never be the type of guy she needs. I could never give her the type of connection she’s looking for.
I’ve never really been in a relationship. All the girls that I’ve fucked have eventually come to the conclusion that I’m an insensitive, anti-social, unemotional jackass who doesn’t give a damn. It’s not that I didn’t want to be good to them. I just didn’t know how. Romance doesn’t come natural to me. Reading a woman’s mind is a game I don’t even try to embark on. As an aspie, expressing my emotions and understanding other people’s emotions is hard. Figuring out social cues and dating rules is next to impossible.
“Honey, do I look fat in this?” Girl – if you look fat, I’m gonna tell you that you look fat. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.
“Babe, why didn’t you get me flowers for our anniversary?” Please explain to me why giving you a handful of dead plants is somehow a socially-acceptable way of expressing how crazy I am about you.
“Sweetheart, you say that you love me but you don’t have any pictures of me in your house.” I don’t need pictures of you in my house. I’ve already memorized every spot, every wrinkle, every line on your face. I know the exact shade of your skin, the texture of your hair, the shape of your eyes. I have a detailed recollection of the slope of your breasts, the curve of your hip, the jiggle of your freaking thighs. So why exactly do I need pictures, too?
You can see how my way of approaching relationships could be problematic…
It’s not that I’m trying to be an asshole. I just don’t understand all the social constructs that are expected to show someone that you really care about them.
And Blakely’s a romance writer, for crying out loud. Her expectations are going to be way high and I won’t be able to meet them. Plus, she thinks in metaphors and similes and figures of speech. Me, my brain is wired for literal input only. Sarcasm usually goes straight over my head.
So, as much as I’m attracted to Blakely, pursuing anything with her will only lead to her getting her heart broken.
“I don’t need you to be my boyfriend. I don’t need you to fall in love with me. I just need you to take my virginity, teach me about sex...There’s so much I don’t know.”
I should say ‘no’, flat out but my resolve isn’t strong enough to resist her. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly. And, she’s determined to do this. “But, why me? We hardly even know each other. Just a few days ago, you refused to even be in the same room as me for more than a few seconds.”
Her face can’t possibly get any redder. “Oh god. I feel really stupid right now." She gets up, tripping over her chair. "Forget we ever had this conversation. Please."
"Blakely,” I say gently. “Sit.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles retreating toward the exit. “Forget I said anything.”
“Blakely!” I growl her name in a commanding tone and she looks up at me with alarm in her eyes. “Sit!”
Slowly, she sinks into the chair and her eyes stay fixed on her lap.
“Now, tell me – why are you choosing me for this?” I demand.
Her eyes finally blink up at me. “Because, when you kissed me the other night…” Her fingers feather her lips. “I’d never felt anything like that.”
“It was just a kiss…”
“And then, you touched me…And I came so hard I couldn’t even remember how to breathe...I need you to go all the way.”
I can’t fight off the smile coming to my lips. This woman is determined. She knows what she wants. Even though she doesn’t know what she’s getting into.
Her eyes blink shyly at me. Her cheeks grow redder. I can tell it’s taking every morsel of her inner strength to have this conversation.
“So, you’re curious?” I ask with a half-smile.
She pulls in a steely breath and nods.
I can’t let her off that easy. I need to hear the words falling past her innocent, little lips. “Say it. Tell me what you want.”
She swallows hard and her lips tremble. “I want you to touch me.”
"Mmm, Blakely. I want to touch you. I want to take you to my bed and touch you all over. And I want you to touch me, too. I want to discover all of your body's little secrets. I want to make you feel good...and I want you to write all about it."
She gasps, her breasts heaving.
I grow painfully hard at the idea of having this beautiful, lush body all to myself. Excitement takes over. I don’t want to wait one more minute.
I stand, taking her hands in mine. A look of shock covers her face as I pull her to her feet and press her body against mine. My hands slide under the hem of her shirt and glide up her smooth skin. She’s so soft and warm. My fingers slip under the lacy side band of her bra and I pull it down until her perfect breasts pop out of the top. She groans, curving her spine as I cradle her breasts in my palms, teasing her pebbled nipples with my touch.
My lips touch the lobe of her ear. "Go into your bedroom." I reach down and cup the fleshy globes of her ass, spreading the cheeks apart. "And get on the bed. Take off your clothes." A wicked sensation seizes my chest. "Let's see if we can find a creative solution to your writer's block."
She looks up at me, her green irises almost completely eaten up by the darkness of her lust. She swallows hard and moves past me taking a shaky journey down the hall. My eyes stay fixed on that ass and a thrill rolls through me as I visualize all the filthy things I'm going to do to that curvy, plump, virgin body.
I’m going to defile the fuck out of her. And despite the voice in my head telling me to back away, I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.