Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(82)

“I know that. Or rather, I know that now. But my thoughts about deserving good things? It’s so many things.” She rubbed her forehead with her free hand. “Until Janie and Sandra, Ashley, Elizabeth, and Fiona, my closest friend—if you can even call him that—was my family’s lawyer. It’s difficult—no, it’s impossible—as a child to see yourself as worthy or worth knowing if no one else does.”

I felt my frown intensify at her confession, but before I could offer my opinion on the subject, she spoke over me. “I’ve been going to therapy, and I’m so much better. It’s not magic, and it’s not a cure-all, and it’s been work to get to this point, but I like myself, who I am now, the choices I’m making now—which is a big step. Even though it might sound trite to like oneself, it’s a big deal for me. And so, I have these scripts—that’s what my therapist calls them—in my head, of certain things, and they make having normal, healthy relationships—they make intimacy, being intimate—very difficult. Not just for me, but for—for—”

I waited, watching her as she struggled. Make no mistake about it, she was struggling. Whatever she couldn’t bring herself to say bumped up my heart rate.

“Okay. Back up. What do you mean by script? What does that mean?”

“A script is like, when the first time you do something, or the first few times you do something—like have—like be physically intimate—you do it a certain way, or in a certain state.”

“A state? What? Like Florida?”

She closed her eyes, clearly trying not to laugh. She also covered her face, mumbling, “This is so embarrassing.”

No.

No way.

I didn’t want to embarrass her. Nor did I want her to feel like anything she said to me was embarrassing. Didn’t she understand by now? Nothing she said or did was going to send me running.

“You got kink? I can work with kink. As long as it isn’t illegal. Or painful.” I thought for a moment, and then added, “Or polyamory.”

A laugh burst from her lips, but she still couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. “I want to tell you, because you should know before you decide whether you want to—to—”

“Okay, stop right there.” I let her hand go and her eyes flew open at the sound of my chair scraping against the wooden floor. I walked around the table, took the seat next to hers, and recaptured her fingers. “Look. We got time. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean you owe me anything. We take things slow, no biggie.” I shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, or you’re not ready to tell me. But—this thing, with us?—it’s already happening.”

Whatever it was, if she wasn’t ready to say it, then I didn’t want to hear it.

Needing the feel of her, I lifted my hand to her beautiful face, her skin unbelievably soft, and something in me relaxed when she immediately covered it with hers, leaning into my touch.

“It’s already started. There is no more before I decide,” I added, softening my tone, tugging her forward and whispering just before taking her mouth, “I’ve decided.”





Chapter Fifteen





Shareholder: Any person, company or other institution that owns at least one share of a company's stock.





—Investopedia





**Kat**





The sun wasn’t up, but I was, sorta.

In a sleepy yet not quite asleep haze, I reached for Dan, finding a warm patch of bed instead.

We’d fallen asleep together in my bed. I’d lured him into the guest bedroom, asking him to show me where the light switch was for the closet—I already knew where it was, but it was the only way I could think to get him into my room—and then I suggested he try out my comforter as it was the world’s most comfortable blanket. Dan hadn’t required much convincing.

At first I tried to get comfortable, giving him space. But then he’d reached for me, pulled me to him, and it was heavenly. I’d fallen asleep curled around his body, my cheek on his chest while he lay next to me, his arm around my shoulders and back, his big hand on my hip. Sleeping with Dan as my pillow had been a blissfully relaxing and thrilling experience, and I’d dreamed sweet, soft dreams of contentment.

Presently, as I lifted myself on an elbow and blinked at the surrounding darkness, I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever slept so peacefully. “Dan?”

“Hey,” he whispered, and I spotted movement from the far side of the room, his form a vague silhouette against the city lights beyond the window. “I’m here.”