“What?” I’m perched on a counter, my skirt around my waist and my underwear down my legs, the imprint of his mouth burning through me, and he’s telling me he can’t do this?

His expression is pure misery. “I’m sorry. I—I need to stop.”

My stomach bottoms out. I’ve never behaved like this with a man, so needy, so blatantly desperate. And he’s…stopping?

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

Slowly, he releases his grip on my hips and gets to his feet. There’s such obvious reluctance on his face, and my confusion grows—did I do something wrong? Did I come on too strong?

I reach down and pull up my underwear, then slide awkwardly off the counter, smoothing my skirt. My face is hot with shame; I can’t look him in the eye. I would have let him do anything he wanted with me…and he stopped.

I have never been so mortified in my life.

He starts buttoning my blouse, straightening my collar, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. It’s so sweet—which makes everything worse. Tears prick my eyes and I blink furiously. No way in hell am I letting him see me cry.

“Let’s get you home,” he says quietly.

He finishes closing down his register, and somehow, I hold it together as he walks me to my apartment. No talking, no touching, no smiling. When we reach my building, he waits a few feet away as I get out my key and open the door.

Before going in, I muster what’s left of my dignity and face him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been walked home after a rejection,” I say. “So thanks, I guess.”

His eyebrows pull together. “This isn’t a rejection.”

“Then what the hell is it?” It’s obvious I’m hurt. And that makes me feel even stupider.

“It’s an invitation,” he says.

“To what?” I demand. This man pulled away seconds before he would have given me the orgasm of my life, and he’s telling me it was an invitation?

“To make this something more. Something real.”

“That wasn’t real?” I choke out a laugh. “What are you saying?”

He takes a step forward. There’s something in his eyes that surprises me—determination.

“I’m saying that I’m falling for you, Josie. Hard. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, we have the best conversations, and you’re so beautiful I could look at you for hours and never get tired of the view. I think—” He clears his throat. “I think you could be endgame for me. But I’m not sure you feel the same way, and if that’s the case, I’ll deal with it and try to move on. Eventually. Hopefully.” He swallows. “But I care too much about you to have casual sex. This isn’t casual for me.”