Once Upon A Half-Time 2(61)

God damn it. How many times did I have to fuck this girl before she dropped her guard? I’d do it as often as it took, but I wished she just meet me halfway once and act…

I didn’t even know how I wanted her to act. Calmer? Relaxed? Like she wasn’t so afraid of what she might say or how quickly her legs would spread so near me.

I was used to women presenting themselves to me tits or ass first. Every word out of their mouths was something fake and flirty, and that had been fine for one fun night. Mandy wasn’t like those cheap and easy dates. I knew the real her, the one who came out when we laid in a bed, embraced on the couch, or pleasured each other under the stars.

I liked that girl. What did I have to do to convince her to be that girl with me?

“What happened to your hand?” I asked.

Mandy measured out the coffee grounds. She peeked inside the pot, grimaced, and rushed the entire contraption to the sink for a good rinsing.

“Well…” She dared to look at me. I loved the little peek of those almond eyes. “I tried to help Lindsey with some crafts.”

“And?”

“I lost.”

“Lost what?”

She smirked. “Rick said I was lucky I didn’t lose the use of my thumb.”

“Jesus!”

I reached for her hand to check the bandage.

I didn’t know why I did it.

I had no idea what I expected.

I cradled her hand, savored its warmth, and I didn’t let her pull it from me.

Touching her jolted me more than the god-awful coffee she brewed. Her heat sliced through me just as sharp as whatever she used to take her finger nearly off.

Mandy’s eyes widened, but she pretended her breathing hadn’t shifted when I touched her.

It had.

So had mine.

This intimacy wasn’t something that happened to me. Ever. But I liked it. I liked that she caused it. And I liked that she denied feeling it too, if only because life offered me a new challenge.

It wasn’t enough to hear her groan my name or sleep with her cuddled against my chest. Mandy kept her distance from me because she knew how dangerous it was to let me close.

And she had no reason to worry.

In that simple touch of her hand, I was changed. I hated that she was hurt, and I hated even more that I wasn’t there to help her.

It wasn’t often that I wanted to be with a woman when we were both clothed, but for this goddess? In this moment?

I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No.” She held my gaze. “But I will be. At some point. I hope.”

We weren’t talking about the cut. I didn’t like her hesitance. A surge of adrenaline raged through me.

God, this woman.

What made me so possessive of her? Why did I want to protect her? She had no reason to feel anxious or uncertain if I was there.

I’d never pretended to be a good man, but that just meant I got shit done that others couldn’t. If she was worried, if the wedding was stressing her, if this latest complication was going to make her sick again, I wasn’t putting up with it.

The problems with her family could wait until after she had a decent night’s sleep.

And after I tucked her in.

Twice.

I set my jaw. “How can I help?”

“Why do you want to help me?”

“Because you need it.”

“And you’re the one to give it?” She giggled, reaching into the cabinet for the coffee cups. “Thanks, Nate. But you’ll understand if I refuse.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Come on.” She tried to pull attitude with a hand on her hip. It only accentuated the gentle swell of her thigh. “You’re gonna joke about something cute. I’m going to get flustered. Then you’ll get all deep and sexy and say things that make me…receptive. And we’ll just end up where we left off.”

“And where’s that?” I shrugged. “Bed? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if this was simple.”

“And it’s not anymore.”

“I think you know it’s become way complicated.”

“So?”

“I don’t want either of us to get hurt,” she said. “I really, really don’t.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

She bit her lip. “I wish I could say the same.”

“You’re worried about me now?” I grinned. “What happened to all your fears about the future and plans and fairy tales?”

She let the coffee brew and leaned against the counter. For some reason, she seemed honest, genuine, and sincere.

And that made her even more secretive.

“I don’t think you’ll ever realize how much those nights meant to me,” she said. “I know they’re just your normal, run-of- the-mill one-night stands—”