Page 137 of The Diamond in the Rough

Even if Rayn was attracted to him, that didn’t mean the younger man would actually be interested in dating him.

He stepped back first,and my hand fell from Raj’s chest, but I was breathing hard more because of the kiss than the vision.

“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Not—not the kiss,” he said quickly, then flushed. “I mean—” He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the fact that you might touch—me.”

I pressed my palm against the top of my thigh, leaning back against the supportive brick wall to make sure I didn’t fallover, my knees even more wobbly post-kiss than they had been before. “I didn’t mean to get into your head,” I said, my eyes once more focused on his boot and Converse shoe. I hadn’t even thought about stopping the thoughts, too caught up by the surge of emotion that had risen in my chest and throat.

“Rayn,” Raj said softly, warm fingers tilting my chin up. “You’re already in my head. All the time. I just—” He smiled, the expression a little ironic. “I didn’t mean to trigger anything.”

Oh. He was just thinking about me—the fact that I hated being in other people’s heads.

I swallowed. “I don’t mind your thoughts,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat.

His lips twitched. “What thoughts did you get?” he asked, although he sounded nervous.

I slowly put my hand back on the vibrant orange cotton covering his chest, letting the slight nervousness of Raj’s thoughts slide past my own, keeping myself focused on the present. On him. “That you picked this shirt because you know I like bright colors,” I said softly. “And I am,” I continued.

“You… are?” He frowned, not following me.

I nodded. “You then thought that even if I were attracted to you”—My cheeks were on fire, now.—“I wouldn’t necessarily be interested in dating you,” I explained, the words surprisingly hard to say. “But I am.” I swallowed. “Interested.”

“Are you?” There was something low and rumbly in the words, and he stepped closer to me, one massive hand resting on the small of my back, pulling me a tiny bit closer to his body.

I nodded.

“Good,” he said softly, his breath brushing my lips before he kissed me again.

Kissing him was so much better in reality than in dreams.

We managedto stop after the second kiss, mostly because someone on the sidewalk made an extremely rude comment and suggested we get a room.

Raj stepped back, running one hand through my still-too-long hair. “Much as I would like to, uh, get a room,” he said, the skin of his cheeks darkening and his gold-brown eyes dropping, “I think we should take things a little… slower than that.”

I studied his expression, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean. I knew literally what he meant—that he wanted us to go out on dates, to get to know each other, to (hopefully) kiss and hold hands for a while before we got more physically serious. To find out if we could get along in a different sort of way—as a couple—than the working relationship we already had.

But I wasn’t sure what that meant wewoulddo.

I also understood that I shouldn’t push him. Pushing people creates pressure and worry about inadequacy, and that can, in the long term, breed resentment. That was something that Dr. Nayak had made very clear to us during our group sessions. That some people would be ready for things before other people. And we had to wait for everyone to be ready before we could push things any farther.

“Okay,” I agreed out loud. I could do slower. After all,slowerwas a lot faster thannothing at all, and I didn’t want to go back to that.

He stepped back, then bent and picked up my backpack. “Can I carry this for you?” he asked.

“I mean, I can do it,” I told him, cheeks still flushed. “But you can, if you want to.”

He let out a soft hum, shouldered my bag, then reached out and laced his fingers with mine—the unbroken hand, obviously. “Is this okay?”

I nodded, liking the feel of his slightly rough palm against mine.

We resumed walking, although I noticed that he slowed his pace, maybe to match mine now that he was attached to my hand, or maybe because his ankle had enough of walking quickly, I didn’t know. But I liked the thought that maybe he just wanted to spend time walking with me.

“Rayn,” he said after about half a block. “I want you to know that you don’t have to agree to anything I ask you to do.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure how else to acknowledge what he’d said.

“You don’t have to— to kiss me, if you don’t want to. Or hold my hand.”

“I do want to,” I insisted, frowning up at him.