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She was shivering in his arms. Vulnerable. He never would have expected little Finley Coulter, the cheerleader of Finley Creek General, to be so uncertain in the bedroom. She always exuded confidence in everything she did.
It made him gentler than he would have otherwise been. He felt like a starving caveman, ready to dive into the woman he’d just carried away. He rather liked that analogy.
Stalker aside, everything had changed for him in one night.
Virat had never been one for casual affairs. He’d been raised to believe sex happened between people who cared about each other. And that lesson had sunken in early. That carried over to this day. He wasn’t a monk; he’d had affairs over the years.
But he had always cared about the women involved.
Just like he did this one. It surprised him how much he did care about her.
She’d always just been there, on the fringes of his circle. He just hadn’t ever looked closer. Now he did. Would. As long as she would let him.
“I’m afraid we’re ruining this dress.”
“I’ll have the dry cleaners deal with it.” Her little fingers played with his collar, and she slipped the first button free.
But he hadn’t missed the nerves. Or the inexperience. Tenderness for her flooded him, almost bowling him over where he sat. “We don’t have to do this. We can stop at any time. You just tell me. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”
“I know. I trust you, Virat. I trust you.”