Penny
I don’t say yes, but I don’t say no either. I put my hand in his and follow him to the door of his apartment.
Okay, by almost all definitions that’s a yes.
I don’t know what I expect. Will he haul me inside? Toss me up against the wall? Am I ready for that?
He opens the door of his apartment and gives me a strange look, like he’s worried about how I’m feeling. I don’t want to try to justify why I’m here.
He closes the door behind me. My mouth goes dry and I wring my hands in front of me. I’ve never done anything this wild before.
“Come in and sit down,” Dalton says, offering me a drink.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit in a whoosh.
Dalton pours himself a drink as well. “Penny, I don’t jump women. Nothing has to happen.”
“So you’re okay if we don’t have sex?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to light the fireplace, strip you down one article of clothing at a time, and spend the night making your eyes roll back in your head from pleasure. Not taking it there is going to make trying to have any kind of conversation with you a real bitch, but I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
Oddly, I believe him. Dalton says it as it is. I accept the drink from him and move to the couch. I’m more turned on saying no to him than I’ve ever been saying yes to anyone else. It’s confusing, wonderful, and awful all at once. “I told you about my one-hand rule right?” I ask, feeling my body pulse with desire.
“I can make your eyes roll with one hand if that helps,” he jokes, taking a swig of his drink. “This is a bad idea, Penny. Maybe you should go back to your place.”
I stay where I am, take a gulp of my drink, then put it on the coffee table. “You think I’m a prude.”
He groans. “I’m a class A asshole. Don’t adjust yourself to fit what I want.”
A warmth spreads through me at his words. Some people can rattle on and on and say nothing. Others say very little, but everything they feel is in those few words. Dalton wants me, but he also wants to protect me—almost as if he thinks he’s not good enough for me. My heart breaks for the boy in him who probably always wondered if it was his fault everyone left him. Did he feel unlovable?
“Could I have one kiss and that’s it?” It’s a ridiculous question, but I need to hear his response. I shouldn’t test this, but I want to prove something to him as much as to myself.
“I don’t understand.”
“I want you to light the fireplace. I want everything you described, but not tonight. Tonight I only want to know what it would be like to kiss you—really kiss you.”
He loosens his tie as if it’s choking him. “I don’t know.”
I shrug, embarrassed and disappointed all at once. “I’m sorry. This is dumb. I’m wasting your time. The women you’re used to—”
“Penny.”
“Yes.”
“Come here.”
My heart is pounding in my chest as I stand but don’t take a step toward him. “How about you meet me halfway?”
He’s there in a heartbeat. One hand slides to the small of my back, the other cups my cheek, sort of forcefully but in a sexy way. His tongue parts my lips, and I’m shocked by the pull I feel toward his body. I arch against him. He’s excited, but not out of control. I relax into the kiss, give myself over to it.
He explores my mouth, teases my mouth to explore his. It’s every bit as hot as I imagined it would be. I’ve been kissed before, but this is something different. It’s roughly tender. Restrained passion. His hands don’t wander. He takes his time, but goes no further than what I asked for.
When he raises his head I arch against him again and groan. It was too good not to have more of. He kisses my forehead this time. “Good night, Penny.”
I shudder against him. Am I making a huge mistake? Why am I leaving when every part of me is clamoring to stay?
He steps back, and I am a jumble of confused desire and gratitude. He does care about me. No, he might not be good about saying it, but now I’m sure of it.
It makes leaving him more difficult, but I’m following my heart on this one. Sex means nothing to him and everything to me. Neither of us is ready to take the next step.
“Good night,” I say, rushing to the door and clumsily letting myself out.
Back in my apartment, I close the door and slump against it. Dalton not only wants me, but he has feelings for me. We could not be more different. Some people might say, “Opposites attract,” but I’ve seen the uglier side of people who are fundamentally different trying to be together. My parents must have felt like this at one time. I’ve seen photos of them looking at each other with love. When they said their vows, they’d meant them.
Although I’m an optimistic person, I try to stay grounded.
I cover my face with my hands and ask the universe for a sign—any sign that history is not about to repeat itself.
My phone bings. It’s Dalton.
Spend tomorrow with me.
I hug the phone to my chest. As far as signs go, it isn’t definitive. He didn’t declare anything, or claim he’d had an epiphany. He simply wants to see me.
I remember what I said to him about people not being able to prove his theory about them wrong if he never gives them a chance to. I could decide right now Dalton and I are too different to ever work out, but how is that different from him closing everyone out of his life?
Coming to the Bachelor Tower was about proving to my sister that I am not who she thinks I am. It has become a learning experience for me as well. I’m more than I thought I was. I don’t want to make decisions based on old rules or out of fear. I want to be brave and bold, like Kylie, but in my own way.
Dalton might break my heart. Is he worth the risk? Maybe, if we take it slowly.
I text him my answer. Yes.