“You’ll never find a man like me. I’m so into you it’s scary.”
I stopped walking and turned to him. “What does that mean?”
“When I say I want you... ” He got in front of me. “I mean it, and not just in a normal way. I’m telling you that you’re the reason I got a therapist in the first place.”
I backed up and made sure there was some space between us. “I don’t understand.”
“From the first day I met you, I’ve... ”
“What?”
“Followed you.”
It would’ve been easier if he’d just slapped the shit out of me. Violence, I knew how to respond to. Lies and cheating ways were easy to decipher.
How does one reply to a person that says they stalked you? A restraining order is a good start.
“I have to go pack.” I hurried away.
“We have to finish this.” He came up to my side and kept my pace, climbing the stairs right along with me.
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.”
I got to the stairs and raced up them. “This is what you talk to a therapist about.”
“I will talk to her about it. In fact, I want you to meet Dr. Engles.”
I got to the end of the stairs.
He arrived seconds behind. “I’m the frog prince. I’ve done some ugly things—jacking off in your room could be one of them.”
“Not could be, Adrian. Definitely with a big old fat capital D. Jacking off in my room was ridiculous.”
“We could add stalking to that list.” He got in front of me again as I rushed to my bedroom. “This is bad too. I get it. But with a therapist and you giving me a chance, it could work.”
“What are you even talking about?”
He placed his hands on my shoulders. “I see something amazing between us. I want to explore it. I’ll do so at your pace. Anything.” His fingers trembled against me. “I get that I’m a frog prince.”
“I already kissed you, and you didn’t transform into the man I need you to be. You’re not a frog prince. You’re Nick’s son and off limits.”
He frowned.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice came out hoarse. “No. I understand, but who do I need to be to have you?”
“Well, not Nick’s son is one thing.”
He snorted. “I could legally deny the title.”
I sighed.
“You need time. Fine. I know you do. You’re moving out and getting rid of an ugly engagement. Cool. I just want a few dates.”
“Dates?” I asked.
“Meetings with wine and conversation. We don’t have to call them dates.”
“But you’ll think they’re dates.”
“You’re damn right, I will.”
I walked around him. “I can’t date you.”
“But you could meet me for wine and conversation?” He refused to quit as he walked with determination to my room.
“Maybe,” I muttered.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“That’s a maybe with a lower case m. And we don’t kiss again. What happened in the hallway stays in the hallway never to reoccur in this lifetime.”
“Now you’re just lying to yourself,” he giggled. “Maybe you need Dr. Engles more than me.”
I opened my bedroom door and he marched on in as if I’d held it open for him. “Get out of my room.”
“I will when we’re done talking.”
“We’re done.”
“I can help you pack,” he said, but I knew that piling clothes into suitcases wasn’t truly on his mind.
He headed over to my bed and traced his fingers along the outline. “We could get the staff to do all of this for you.”
“I can pack myself.”
“Okay.” He dragged his hands away. “Then I’ll leave you alone...for now.”
I laughed. “For now?”
He came up to me. “I’m your frog prince. It’s just going to take patience, therapy, and lots more kissing, but I can magically change into the man that has you all to himself.”
“It’s not just that—”
“I won’t accept my father as an excuse anymore.” He leaned his head to the side. “Do you have any other reasons to not give me a chance? Just some wine, conversation, and kisses.”
“Wait a minute, you just added kisses. I never agreed to that.”
Lust dotted his every word. “You want my lips just as bad as I need to give them to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” he declared.
“No.”
“Yes.” He tilted toward me. His lips were only an inch from mine. I tensed but didn’t pull away. We stood there like that, our mouths so close my panties moistened just at the possibility of tasting his kiss again. His breath brushed against mine. Shivers ran through me.
Fuck! He’s right. I want to kiss him. What’s wrong with me?
“I bet you’re wet,” he whispered.
I refused to say anything. To say no would be to lie. To say yes would be to invite another kiss.
We were in my bedroom. The last time we’d been in here, he was half clothed, and I had a hard time looking away from those delicious strokes. The more time passed with him in here with me, the higher the probability became that I’d give in.