His forearm muscles bunched and relaxed. “This is about the sex, isn’t it?” And then the crystal clarity of his hesitation was dumped over my head like a bucket of ice water. The knot in my stomach turned to curdled milk. “It’s not that you think I should wait—you just don’t want it to be you.” “No!” He shouted and reached for me. His hand covered mine, though I’d tried to slip it off the table and onto my lap. “Seph, it’s not that at all. Of course I’d want to sleep with you, unravel those crazy braids and run my fingers through your hair while I—” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say I’ve
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