Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(86)

Dan was full-on scowling now. “You want to be with me even when it doesn’t feel good for you?”

I nodded, laying a tentative hand on his stomach. “I’d like to make you feel good.”

He breathed out, like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said, and two severe lines of discontent appeared between his eyebrows. “No. No way. I can’t do that.”

I removed my hand from him, balling it into a fist, and shifting away. “Okay. I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and as though unable to resist, he placed a light, teasing kiss on my lips, licking the bottom one to taste me before pulling away, his eyes conducting a cherishing sweep of my face. “Thank you for telling me.”

Some combination of emotions made the use of my voice impossible, so I nodded.

“Tell me one more thing.” He brushed several strands of hair that had come loose from my braid away from my face, tucking them tenderly behind my ear.

“Okay.”

“What do you want?” Once again, he sounded merely curious.

I frowned at him, seeking to unravel the question’s meaning.

What did I want? Wasn’t it obvious? I wanted to be normal.

Certain I didn’t understand what he was after, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“You said you want to be with me.”

“I do.”

“Even if it doesn’t feel good for you.”

My eyes dropped, I couldn’t look at the patient warmth in his eyes and have this conversation. “Yes.”

“That’s not what I want,” he said firmly.

I nodded, feeling heartsick.

“So, since that’s off the table, what do you want?”

“To not be this way.”

I felt his eyes move over me. “You said you’re in therapy and this has been brought up.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think, if we talked to her together, she could help?”

I wouldn’t cry over this, I refused. So I swallowed and nodded.

“Would you be willing to try again? Not—I mean, we don’t have to go all the way, and I didn’t plan to tonight, I just wanted to fool around a little—it’s just, I’d like to—not that it’s about me, but I’d like to try to help you—” he made a low sound of frustration. “That’s not right, not help, but—”

I cut him off with a kiss, each word more painful than the last—not because he was hurting me, but because I could hear the self-doubt in his voice, and I hated that I’d put it there.

So I kissed him. I pushed him onto his back and kissed him with all the tangled emotions in my mind and in my heart. His hands framed my face and didn’t move, didn’t wander, giving me the sense he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do, or where he was allowed to touch me, making my heart splinter all over again.

I broke the kiss, lying on top of him and squeezing his big chest as tightly as I could.

Bending to his ear, I whispered, “Please, please, please don’t ever think you are less than perfect. My issues aren’t a reflection of you, they’re a reflection of me, and it was wrong of me to not tell you.”

“I’m not perfect, Kit-Kat. Far from it.” Dan’s hands hovered on my shoulders and I felt him take a deep breath before saying plainly, “Let me help.”

“Dan—”

“I’m not going to take it personally if I can’t get your engine running—you’re right, that’s on you—but not trying again seems like a waste of an opportunity.” His hands slid down to my bottom, stroking and then squeezing me shamelessly. Then moaning, “Holy fuck, you’ve got a great ass.”

I huffed a small laugh, something in me relaxing, and I allowed him to roll me away. He settled next to me, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips while he continued conversationally, “Let me be clear, I consider this an opportunity for me. Sure, I hope you get something out of it. But think about this from my perspective.”

“Your perspective?”

His gaze swept over my body and he licked his lips. “I’m guessing we’ll be spending a lot of time naked?” Dan drew his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes met mine again, held, and smoldered.

Try as I might, faced with his smolder, I was having difficulty holding on to my worry for him. I was also having trouble remembering why I’d been determined to give up and accept defeat just moments ago.

So, in an attempt to refocus myself and the conversation, I asked, “What if I’m never able to enjoy sex? What if I can’t? What if I try, we try, and I always fail?”

His mouth tugged upward. “I think you’re asking the wrong questions.”