"I can wait."
"No..." I wrapped my amis around him as if I were drowning. "I don't want to wait."
CHAPTER 21
Somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, the heat of passion was banked by misgivings. Not that I was going to back out at this point—I wanted Gage too badly. And even if we managed to put it off, I was certain we'd end up in bed eventually. But my mind kept circling around my inadequacies in bed and how to make up for them. I tried to figure out what Gage would want, the things that might please him. By the time we were in my room, my mind was filled with what looked like pages from a football playbook, arrows leading to diagrams of passing routes, blocking strategies, hole assignments, and offensive formations.
As I watched Gage's hand on the doorknob and heard the click of the lock, I felt my stomach swoop. I turned the bedside lamp on low. sending a varnish of yellow light across the floor.
Gage's face softened as he glanced at me. "Hey..." He gestured for me to come to him.
"You're allowed to have second thoughts."
I felt his arms go around me. and I huddled against him. "No, no second thoughts." My cheek pressed into the soft black cashmere of his sweater. "But..."
"But what?" His hand coasted up and down my spine. I argued with myself for a few seconds—if I was going to trust a man enough to go to bed with him, I should trust him enough to say whatever I wanted.
"The thing is..." I said with difficulty. No matter how deep a breath I drew. I only seemed to be getting half the air I needed. Gage's hand continued its slow, reassuring motion. "There's something you should know.
"Yes?"
"Well, you see..." I closed my eyes and made myself say it. "The thing is, I'm bad in bed."
His hand stopped. He pried my head away from his shoulder and subjected me to a quizzical glance. "No you're not."
"Yes, yes, I'm bad in bed." It was such a relief to admit it, the words tripped over each other as I continued. "I'm not experienced at all. It's so embarrassing at my age. There have only been two—and the last one, oh, it was so mediocre. Every time. I have no skills. No focus. I take forever to get in the mood and then I can't hold on to it and I have to fake it. I'm a faker, and I'm not even good at that. I'm—"
"Wait. Hold on. Liberty..." Gage hauled me close, stifling the outpouring. I felt a
tremor of laughter run through him. I stiffened, and he gripped me more tightly. "No." he said, his voice thick with amusement. "I'm not laughing at you. sweetheart. I just...no. I'm taking you seriously. I am."
"You don't sound like it."
"Sweetheart." He smoothed my hair back, nuzzled my temple. "There's nothing mediocre about you. The only problem you've got is that you've led the life of a single working mother since you were...what, eighteen, nineteen? I already knew you weren't experienced because.. .to be honest, you throw out all kinds of mixed signals."
"I do11"
"Yes. Which is why I'm fine with taking it slow. Better that than to do something you're not ready for."
"I'm ready," I said earnestly. "I just want to make sure you've lowered your expectations."
Gage looked away from me. and I got the impression he was fighting back another laugh. "Okay. They're low."
"You're just saying that."
He said nothing, his eyes glinting with amusement.
We studied each other, and I wondered if the next move was mine or his. I approached the bed on ramshackle legs, sat on the edge, kicked off the slides. My toes flexed against the pleasant ache of no longer having to endure the forward pitch of my own weight.
Gage watched me. the movement of my bare feet, and his eyes lost their splintered brilliance, looking smoke-hazed, almost drowsy. Encouraged. I reached for the hem of my dress.
"Wait/' Gage murmured, sitting beside me on the mattress. "A couple of ground rules."
I nodded, watching the way the fabric of his pants stretched over his thighs, noticing that his feet reached the floor while my legs dangled. I felt one of his hands touch the edge of my jaw, and he turned my face up to his. "First, no faking. You have to be honest with me."
That made me regret having mentioned the faking. I've always hated being the kind of person who says too much out of nervousness. "All right, but just so you know. I usually take too long—"
"I don't care if it takes all damn night. It's not an audition."
"What if I can't manage to..." For the first time I realized how much harder it is to talk about sex than actually doing it.
"We'll work at it," Gage said. "Believe me, I'll have no problem helping you practice."