6. Irving

6

IRVING

I t was getting increasingly difficult to keep lying to myself. I wanted Sylvan. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted another man before. To make it worse, I knew he would jump on a chance to sleep with me if I let him, but I couldn't give in that easily. I still didn't see how a relationship between us would work out, and I didn't want a fae scorned at the end of all this.

My last relationship had ended badly enough. My ex-fiancé, as much as I once loved him deeply, destroyed everything we had by going out and cheating on me with another man. Then he admitted to it, his excuse being that he'd gotten bored and needed to spice things up, his excuse was that he'd gotten bored and needed to spice things up.

I broke things off after that, vowing never to get into another romantic relationship again – until the matchmaking service came into my life. And now I was spending the night in a fae's house – a fae whom I'd only met hours before and was undeniably attracted to.

I turned on the faucet, carefully set my glasses on the edge of the sink, and splashed my face with cool, refreshing water. The scrape on my cheek burned as my fingers brushed against it. Sylvan put some sort of salve on it that helped take away the redness, but it had since absorbed into my skin and I didn't think it mattered if I washed the residue away.

I took my time in the bathroom, hoping Sylvan would already be tucked into his makeshift couch bed by the time I came back out. Instead, he was sitting on the side of the bed when I merged, ankles crossed and nose buried in a book.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

He jumped, startled, and set the book down beside him. "Oh, nothing," he said dismissively, covering up the title with his hand.

"I'm an avid enjoyer of books myself," I told him. "I might have heard of it. Please, tell me what it's called."

"It's a silly little romance novel," he admitted, his freckled cheeks turning rosy. "I find reading heavier books only brings my mood down, but romance never does that."

I stifled a laugh. I did not find the same pleasure in reading romance books that others did, but it would be rude of me to put down something Sylvan enjoyed while I was a guest in his own house, especially after my faux pas over the paintings.

"I definitely haven't read it, then," I told him. "No matter. If you enjoy it, that's what's important."

He narrowed his eyes. Had I come off a little too condescending? Or was it something I said earlier in the conversation? I could hardly remember if I did something to offend him, but as I wracked my brain, he patted the bed beside him.

"Come, sit."

I joined him on the edge of the bed, moving the book to the side table. I glanced at the title, Painted Love. I didn't recognize it, but it sounded like the exact kind of sappy love story Sylvan would enjoy. When I looked back up, he was watching me, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

My heart began to thrum faster in my chest, pounding in my ears. I'd already vowed not to do this, yet here I was, mere inches away from the creature I so desperately wanted to be with.

"I was thinking," Sylvan said softly, the words exiting his mouth with all the sweetness and tenderness of a sun-ripened berry, "we might share the bed tonight. What do you think?"

He waited for my response. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell him yes, knowing full well what that would lead us to, but if I did that, all the effort I'd put in to stay away from his charms throughout the evening would be for nothing.

"I think…Isn't it a bit small for two of us?"

"Not really. I've brought many men home before and it works quite well, and I – I made a mistake bringing that up, didn't I?"

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter."

"So, what do you think? Shall we share the bed? It's better than sleeping on the couch." He looked up at me hopefully.

"I…I would like that," I said so quietly, the words nearly got lost in the small room.

He nodded. "I hoped that would be your answer."

Sylvan was about to say something else, but I didn't give him a chance. I reached my hand around the back of his head, my fingers combing through his long waves, and placed my lips on his. We stayed there like that for an eternity, only pulling away to take a breath before kissing again, and again, and again.

My glasses slid down my nose, so I pulled them off and dropped them on the nightstand, hoping I hadn't broken them again. I moved my hand to his back, pulling at the ties that kept his light, flowing robes in place. He tugged at my suit jacket, which I shrugged off once he got it far enough down my arms, and then he began to work on the buttons of my shirt.

"What about a condom?" I paused. "Do you have any?"

Sylvan shook his head. "I'm a fae, remember? Human diseases have no effect on me – I'm immune to all your nasty little viruses and bacteria."

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "I'm not contracting something from a one-night-stand because you promised –"

Sylvan pressed his finger to my lips. "I'm very sure. Look it up if you're concerned, but I wouldn't bother."

His hands returned to my shirt and I gave up querying him. I didn't exactly trust Sylvan, but my limited knowledge of faefolk led me to believe that he was telling the truth.

With our clothes in a pile on the floor, I pushed Sylvan back onto the bed, climbing on top of him, never ceasing kissing and caressing. His body was perfect – smooth, hairless skin, faint outlines of muscles along his arms and stomach, soft lips, a touch so gentle, I may as well have been embraced by a cloud.

I hoped I would hold up to his standards. It had been a long time since I last had sex – too long, and while I'd never doubted my abilities before, being out of practice took away any confidence I once had.

Sylvan didn't complain as I slid my hands down his legs, my lips touching every inch of him I could reach. He moaned when I wrapped my hand around his cock, and again when I licked the head of it, getting a taste of his sweet, salty precum.

I wanted him more than words could describe. I felt as though I would die if I couldn't have him now. I didn't wait for him to tell me what he wanted to do, focusing only on what brought forth the loudest moan or the longest sigh. This was it. We were too far gone now, and whether I regretted it in the morning or not, right now I didn't care one bit.