Loch blew out a frustrated breath. “If I say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous.”
“You’re talking to a woman that spends her free time riding a digital dragon in a game and likes to wear a backpack that looks like a cat. How about you wing it past me?”
His mouth curved in a slight smile. Why was it she always managed to put him at ease, no matter the situation? He was lucky that he was going to have someone like her as his wife. Temporary wife, he amended a moment later. It was much easier to mentally leap in and go forward with his plan if it was just temporary. Then it didn’t seem like insanity as much as gutsiness.
Of course, he had to get Taylor to agree to the marriage, and right now he couldn’t even get her to kiss him, but he was working on that. Slowly.
“Spit it out,” she cajoled. “It’ll make you feel better.”
He sighed. “I’m not going to get away until I do, am I?” Not that he wanted to get away. Not when her fingers were doing such magical things to his feet.
“That’s right! So you might as well say.” She wiggled one of his toes. “This little piggy says spill the beans.”
Loch tugged his foot out of her grip. Undeterred, she grabbed his other foot and began to rub it. She really wasn’t going to let him get away with silence, so he sucked in a breath, braced himself for her laughter, and then said it aloud. “I think . . . I think I’m rather helpless.”
Her brows furrowed, even as her fingers gently kneaded his foot. “Explain?”
“It’s just that . . . I’m nearly thirty years old and I’ve never given any consideration to fending for myself. At home, I have a valet that picks out my clothing and handles my meetings. I have an accountant that handles my money. I have an estate manager that handles my house. I have maids. I have a cook. I have a stable hand that takes care of my horses. I have a driver. I literally do not have to do anything for myself except roll out of bed. And for nearly thirty years, I’ve never had a problem with this. I travel with servants who handle everything normally, but then I come here, by myself, and I’m starting to realize just how . . . sheltered a life I’ve been living.” He snorted. “A thirty-year-old man, sheltered. Imagine. It’s sad.”
She patted his foot. “You don’t have someone to wipe your ass for you. It’s not that bad.”
“Might as well be.”
Taylor rolled her eyes and stood up. She moved forward and instead of sliding away, she sat on his lap, straddling him. “If you’re trying to make me imagine you as some sort of big man-baby, it’s not working.” She shrugged, stroking a hand down his chest. “You have money. You’re privileged, that’s not a lie. If I had tons of money, I’d hire people to do all that stuff for me, too.”
“The problem isn’t that I let people do things for me. The problem is that I let them do everything for me.” But it was getting harder to focus on said problems when Taylor was determined to straddle him, her hips resting directly over his cock.
“So use your time here to assert a little independence. Buy some stupid shit. Pick out your own clothes.” A small smile curved her mouth. “Dare to go sockless.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t take me seriously,” he whispered. Arousal was flooding through him, heightened by the fact that she’d been standoffish for the last week. Was his complaining going to break through the barriers between them? She was impossible to predict.
Then again, maybe he should have stopped trying to predict and started acting on his words. He wanted to convince Taylor to marry him so he could go home, and what was he doing? Moping about socks and having lunch with strangers while she poked around on her laptop. This wasn’t him. Normally he was the pursuer; the confident, fearless one.
It was time to remember who he was and take control of the situation again.
So he pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she fell against his chest, her palms pressing to his shoulders. “I am normally quite the daring man.”
“You are, are you?” Her voice was a throaty purr. “I don’t know if I can believe that without a demonstration.”
She was in a playful mood now. He liked that. His cock hardened in response and he slid a hand down her back until he cupped her arse. She had a delightfully rounded one that was just begging to be touched.
Instead of pushing him away, she flung her arms around his neck and began to kiss him wildly. All right, now he was getting frisky Taylor. He returned the kiss, his hands roving over her body. Her tongue flicked against his and she rocked her hips enthusiastically.
With a groan, he pushed her down onto the couch, rolling their bodies until she was pinned under him. The kiss continued, hot, wet, and deep. Her leg went around his hips and he ground his cock against her pussy, the friction mimicking all the things he’d love to do to her.
And then she put a hand to his shoulder, and her mouth pulled away from his. “Loch,” she breathed. “I can’t.”
He pulled back, studying her face. Was there something going on that she just wasn’t telling him? “What is it?”
Her cheeks pinked. “Nothing. I just . . . Now’s not a good time.”
He frowned down at her, because the signals she was sending didn’t make sense. She kissed him like she wanted him, and then two seconds later, pushed him away. No wonder he was so confused lately. “Is there someone else I should know about? Because I’m not a fan of cheating.”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “What? No! Of course not!” Her hand smacked his shoulder. “I’m not a fan of cheating, either!”
He leaned in and nipped at her lower lip, and noticed that her eyes got soft with need when he did. “Then tell me what it is. You saving yourself for marriage now? Because I’ll marry you.” Loch grinned down at her, almost hoping she’d be impulsive enough to take the bait.
“What?” She giggled and then shook her head. “Now you’re talking crazy.”
“Am I?” He traced a finger down her cheek. “I’m just trying to figure out why, after we had such a good time the other night, you push me away like a leper every time I kiss you.”
She bit her lip, and the look on her face was . . . embarrassed? “I can’t talk about it.”
“Shall I kiss you until I get it out of you?” He traced a finger around the shell of one sensitive ear and she shuddered in response, her breath catching.
“God, you don’t play fair. It’s that . . . the timing is bad.”
He gave her a blank look. “Because of work?”
Taylor smacked her forehead. “Because of my period, if you must know.”