Grin and Beard It(92)

“You mean lust.”

I smirked at the disappointment in her tone. “Yeah, I guess I do. Even if we have enough lust between us to build a city.”

This earned me a quick smile, but she continued to press, “We don’t have to do anything, we could just sleep. Cuddle.”

“What do you think the chances of us just sleeping would be? Because I don’t think they’re very good.”

“I’m up for the challenge.”

“I’m not.”

Another quick, surprised grin claimed her features, revealing dimples and brightening her eyes. “So you find me irresistible?”

I answered immediately, with blunt honesty, “Yes.”

She grinned wider, then tried to wipe the excited happiness from her face and replace it with solemnity. “I believe in you, Jethro. I think you can resist. Don’t sell yourself short.” Now she was teasing.

“You’re wrong.” I wasn’t teasing, and pressure was building at the base of my skull, because I was about to admit to something that might send her running.

She continued to tease. “I sleep in footie pajamas. I own three pairs. No one is sexy in footie pajamas.”

“Sienna—”

“And I have a variety of green beauty masks I can wear to bed; I think one is even called repellant. Is smells like wet dog.”

“I haven’t been with a woman in five years.”

“And I-I,” she stuttered, stopped, and stared at me. Blinking and edging an inch away, Sienna’s lips parted and her eyes went wide. “What? What did you say?”

“I haven’t been with anyone in five years.”

“You mean you haven’t been in a relationship for five years?”

I searched her expression as I spoke, looking for some sign as to how much of a big deal this would be for her. “Well, that’s true, too. I haven’t had a girl since high school, to be honest. But what I meant is I haven’t, uh, slept with anyone in over five years.”

“Whoa! Whoa . . .” Her first whoa was an inhale, a gasp. And the second whoa was an exhale, a sigh.

I watched her, keeping my gaze steady. Though her dark eyes were expressive, I was having a hard time getting a read on her thoughts.

Abruptly, she removed her leg from between mine, pulled down her skirt to cover herself, and demanded, “But why? Why would you do that? Not only to yourself but to all the single ladies?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt anybody.” Propping myself up on my elbow, I cupped her cheek, pushing my fingers into her hair and caressing the smooth, gold skin of her neck. “I had a problem, treating women like they were disposable.”

“Were you a sex addict?”

I frowned at her question, having not considered that possibility before, but then dismissed it. “No. I don’t think so. I was addicted to the lifestyle, not one thing in particular. Though addicted might not be the right word. More like, it was all I knew. Using women had been part of the lifestyle of the club. When I left, I had to break all those patterns and habits. I stopped drinking, messing around, stealing cars, lying, cheating, conning. I went to school, to work, and kept my ass at home every night until new habits formed. Better habits. Until I trusted myself.”

“Do you drink now?”

“Yes. But not to excess like before.”

“When did you start going out again? At night?”

“A few years back. But not every night, and not to places where trouble would find me.”

She studied me from where she lay on the carpet, her brow pensive. “You drink in moderation, you go out in moderation, so why not date in moderation?”

“Because drinking and going out only have ramifications for me. Dating in moderation, as you put it, comes with the possibility of hurting someone else.”

Something clicked behind her gaze. “You didn’t want to lead someone on.”

I nodded, because that was exactly right.

“You mean to tell me you haven’t met a woman you liked in the last five years?”

“I’ve met plenty of women I liked, but I’d always decide to wait a little longer. When push came to shove, I found it plenty easy to walk away.”

Her pretty eyes widened until they were almost round. “But not with me?”

“Not with you.”

“Why?”

I searched her gaze, found myself lost in her eyes.

Getting the sense I was taking too long to answer her question, I finally just admitted, “I honestly don’t know. It’s everything about you, I guess. Everything together that makes you impossible to leave, impossible to forget.”

And that was the truth.

Her cheeks warmed with a pleased blush at my words. “Jethro.” She said my name tenderly, lifted her chin as though to kiss me, but I evaded her mouth.