First Time: Ian's Story (First Time (Ian) Book 1) (20 page)

“
Here we are…in your bed…and
you say you love me,” she said slowly.

“
No! No, no. That isn’t
why…” I scrubbed my free hand down my face in frustration. “I love
you. I’d love you if I was driving you home, right now. Or, maybe
not as much, since I’m dead tired. But the point I’m trying to make
is—”

“
Ian? I’m just fucking with
you.” She laughed her squeaky, pleased-with-herself
laugh.

“
Well, thank you for turning
my declaration of love into a heart-stopping anxiety
episode.”

She wriggled and rolled onto her stomach,
rising on her elbows to bring her face close to mine. Her big eyes
glittered in the moonlight coming through the angled skylights.
“I’m glad you said it.”

She hadn’t said it back. That was something
of a relief. It felt less like we were rushing into something and
more like I was the idiot I was.

I lifted my head, and she
closed the short distance between our mouths. She was so sweet and
soft in my arms, but also intensely drunk, and she
may
have vomited in my
bathroom, judging from her breath. She pushed her hands under my
shirt and raked her nails down my chest—oh, Jesus help me—and when
she sat up, she straddled my thigh.

She was not wearing panties under that
shirt. I grabbed her hips out of instinct before my brain switched
on.

“
Wait, wait,” I protested,
despite every physical instinct roaring through me.
“No.”

“
What?” She ground against
me. She was so wet.

I clenched my back teeth. “I can’t. Not like
this.”

“
You…” Her voice trembled.
“You don’t want to do it?”

“
I do. Believe me, I do.” I
half sat up to lean on my elbows. “But I won’t.”

“
But you said you loved
me.”

My heart twisted. “I do. Ah, Doll, I would
do just about anything for you. But having sex with you when you’re
stoned out of your mind on too much whisky and emotionally rattled…
That’s not how I want it to be.”

She didn’t answer.

“
I’m sure that Brad said he
loved you, too,” I reminded her. “And whoever came before him. You
wouldn’t have been happy with yourself if you’d slept with them
then, and you won’t be pleased in the morning if you fuck me,
now.”

“
I’m sorry,” she whispered,
then climbed off me to sit on the edge of the bed. It took me a
moment to realize she was crying and not heaving up everything
she’d drank.

I sat up and gently guided her back into the
bed beside me. She laid her head on my shoulder, and when her hand
found its way beneath my shirt again, it was to rest over my
heart.

* * * *

In terms of decibels,
sleeping beside Penny was similar to putting your ear up against a
malfunctioning lawn mower. I hoped her loud, stuttering snores were
a result of alcohol-induced sleep apnea, and not a long-term
condition I would have to learn to tune out.

Still, I wouldn’t have traded the night for
a silent one alone in my bed. Though the thunder of her nocturnal
breathing had kept me awake on and off, at least I woke to the
feeling of her warm, soft body next to mine, and, as the morning
light crept into the room, the sight of her slightly parted lips
and the faint line that occasionally appeared between her brows as
she dreamed. Unable to sleep anymore, but unwilling to leave her
side, I mentally sketched the lines and shadows of her face for
what seemed like hours. When it seemed like her capacity for
unconsciousness might surpass the capacity of my bladder, I
carefully disentangled myself from her and left her to sleep.

Her panties hung over the towel bar in the
master bathroom. I backed up slowly, like they were a bomb about to
go off, and decided to use the bathroom downstairs. In the laundry
room, I rummaged through a basket I hadn’t put away yet, and found
a clean T-shirt and pair of cotton lounge pants, then headed off
for a quick shower.

And a quick wank. I’m only human, and
Christ, she’d been wet when she’d rubbed herself against me. All
night long, she’d wiggled up against me to be the little spoon, or
hooked her leg around mine, or lay with her face tucked into my
neck, every breath hot against my skin. That’s not the kind of
thing a man can just block out of his memory. But a gentleman keeps
it to himself and furtively masturbates in the shower before a lady
can wake up.

With my head clear and my cock somewhat
subdued, I went to the kitchen and considered making breakfast. Out
of what, was the million-dollar question. I was considering it when
I looked up and spotted the half-empty bottle on the coffee table
and reconsidered. Even with the blazing efficiency of a
twenty-two-year-old liver, Penny would wake up hurting.

I got a glass of water and
rummaged through the junk drawer to find a bottle of pain
reliever.
Ibuprofen for a hangover, never
acetaminophen,
Gena had always said.
Remembering Gena’s very existence came as a shock. Having Penny in
the apartment had somehow exorcised the ghost of my ex-wife, at
least temporarily.

God, were Penny and I
rebounding together, after all? I didn’t like the thought of that.
I wanted whatever was between us to be about
us
, not the people who’d hurt us. I
didn’t want a life raft. I wanted a partner. Someone I could enjoy
spending time with a year from now, five years from now, for the
rest of my life, if I was being honest with myself. I wanted Penny
to be that person. I wanted her to be the love of my
life.

The love of your live.

I nearly dropped the water. I hurried up the
stairs, to the studio, and grabbed my sketchbook, the one I’d
bought at a premium on our second date. I flipped it open. After
I’d come home, I’d tried to replicate the sketch of Penny that I’d
made in the park. From memory, it wasn’t as good, but that hadn’t
been the point. I’d just been so fascinated by her, by the way I’d
felt when I was with her, that I’d never wanted to let that day go.
And on the side of the page, a paper clip held the fortune from
that disastrous first date.

The love of your live will step into your
path this summer.

I almost sprinted up the stairs. I hadn’t
believed in signs or fortune telling before Penny, but if there was
ever a time to believe, it was now. It was all I could do to keep
from bursting through door and shouting, “Summer’s over, love of my
life!” Instead, I slipped the paper into my pocket and headed up to
the bedroom.

Since I didn’t know if Penny was awake and
up in some state of undress, I knocked softly. If she was asleep, I
wouldn’t disturb her. If she was awake, I didn’t want to rattle her
head like a jar of angry bees.

“
I’m awake,” she called out
hoarsely, and when I opened the door, I immediately diagnosed her
with a bad case of the Irish flu. Dark circles ringed her bloodshot
eyes, which squinted like she was a lab animal seeing sunlight for
the first time. Her cheeks were pale and drawn. She looked as
though she could fall over dead in a stiff breeze.

“
Good morning,” I said,
moving to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. I offered her the
glass of water, and she took it. “I expect you’ll be needing
this.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Not to be
ungrateful, but do you have any orange juice?”

I lifted a brow and added yet another item
to my growing grocery list. “I think you know the answer to that
already.”

“
Right.” She looked at the
water like it was a death sentence.

“
You’ll need these, as
well.” I pulled the bottle of pills from my pocket, and she managed
a smile that might have been holding back vomit.

Ah, to hell with it. I reached into my
pocket, again. “Oh, and one more thing…”

She looked at the paper in my hand as though
it were the most complex puzzle she’d ever laid eyes upon. She put
the glass on the nightstand and unfolded the fortune with trembling
fingers, casting a suspicious glance up at me. Then, she read it
and she froze for a split second before looking up sharply. “You
said you didn’t save this.”

“
I lied.” I smiled through
my sudden nausea. Penny was hung over on the whisky; I was hung
over on my anxiety about last night’s declaration of love. A
declaration she hadn’t returned, and which seemed far more
important to me with every passing hour. “Happy Labor
Day.”

“
I…” It was likely not a
good sign that she immediately started sobbing. And not the type of
sobbing you’d see in a public proposal.

Despite the sinking feeling in my gut, my
main concern was for Penny’s tears, which I already knew I would
never become immune to. If someone offered me a chance to ensure
nothing but happiness for her for the rest of her life, with the
caveat that I had to cut off one of my own thumbs, I would have
grabbed a pair of scissors without hesitation.

“
Hey, hey.” I put my arms
around her cautiously. “What’s that for?”

“
Because I ruined
everything.” Her voice was so raw my throat hurt on her
behalf.

Bewildered, I tried to figure out how she’d
ruined everything. “By trying to have sex with me?” Oh God, I’d
declined her drunken offer, and now she was crushed. “I wasn’t
rejecting you, Doll, I—”

“
I know, I know.” She sat
back and wiped at her eyes as though she was ashamed to be crying.
It was an odd contrast to all the weeping she’d done the night
before. “I wouldn’t have wanted to fuck me, either.”

It was only through great effort that I
didn’t burst out laughing at the absurdity of that statement. I
couldn’t very well prove to her how much I wanted her—it didn’t
seem appropriate to announce that I’d jerked off thinking about her
less than thirty minutes ago—but I couldn’t deny it, either.
“Believe me, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to fuck you.”

“
But I was trying to use you
to make myself feel better about some other guy,” she clarified.
“It was so awful of me.”

She covered her face, either
to block out the light or from shame, I couldn’t be sure which. But
she needn’t be ashamed; she was far from the only person in the
room who’d made foolish, embarrassing choices in a moment of
heartache.
Telling your sister that you
cheated on your wife because you were too cowardly to admit your
marriage had just failed, for example
.

I hushed that awful voice. “You were in a
bad place. It won’t be the last time, I promise.” I tried to laugh,
but that truth was too awful. I just didn’t want to be the cause of
that kind of pain for her. I certainly didn’t want to frighten her
away from sharing her feelings; that hadn’t worked with Gena, that
was for bloody certain. “And you’ve yet to see how badly I can fuck
things up. But I’m ready to be in this with you. All of you.”

“
I just thought…” She shook
her head and looked up. “I was kind of desperate. After all that
stuff we talked about… I didn’t want to make you wait.”

I took her hands. They were small and
vulnerable, and the memory of her palm over my heart lingered as a
dull ache. I lifted her bent fingers to my mouth and kissed her
knuckles. “I’m not them, Penny. I’m the guy who’ll actually wait
for you.”

She tackled me. There was no other word for
it. One moment, she was looking up at me with those wide, helpless
brown eyes then she was practically in my lap, knocking the wind
out of me as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“
Careful,” I managed, once
the shock wore off. I tilted my head back to look at her and
brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m not as shiny and new as you
are.”

She wiped at her tears, again. “Sorry. I’m
overly enthusiastic with expressions of affection. If you’re in
this with me, you have to get used to that.”

“
I’ll buy protective
equipment.” Like a fucking gas mask, if this was her usual morning
breath. I loved her, but I had to breathe through my mouth as I
leaned my forehead against hers. “Penny?”

“
Yeah?”

This was the sort of thing a person had to
be direct about. “I want to kiss you, but your breath is fucking
terrible.”

She clamped her lips shut, and her laugh
came out her nose in a little squeak. With a hand over her mouth,
she giggled. “Do you have any mouthwash?”

“
I do. Go use it.” Thank God
she hadn’t taken real offense to that. It was yet another sign that
we were quite possibly meant to be.

She got up with great care, but when she
swung her legs over the side of the bed, the sweet, round curve of
her ass showed beneath the hem of the t-shirt she’d borrowed from
me. I averted my eyes, in case she inadvertently flashed more than
that. As she headed to the bathroom, she called over her shoulder,
“I want a kiss when I get back.”

“
Well, obviously.” My heart
rate had already sped up just at the mention of it.

The fortune cookie slip lay
on the bed where it had fallen. I picked it up and read the words,
again. The love of my
live
. I wasn’t going to complain
about that.

Chapter Eleven

To my great
disappointment, Penny had a bit of business to take care of at her
office—Sophie and her friend were stricter bosses than I’d
imagined, making their assistant work on a national holiday—but it
gave me a chance to gain some much needed spiritual
guidance.

I didn’t call Danny right away. Instead, I
cleaned up the whisky spills from the night before, made my bed,
then grabbed my rosary and headed up to the deck.