done. He stood, and pulled me up by my elbows. He drew me in until our bodies fit together in a way that hadn’t been possible when I was seated.
“That’s better,” He said.
I didn’t bother agreeing. I just lifted up on my tiptoes and kissed him.
Compared to our earlier kiss, this one was slow, exploratory, and like kindling on a fire. One of his hands curled around my neck, his thumb pressing gently into my collarbone. The other danced from my hair to my shoulder to my hip, and then back.
For once in my life, I concentrated simply on the feel of a guy against me, the brush of his tongue against mine, the pinpricks of heat where his fingers pressed into my skin. I didn’t think about anything—not about my breath, or whether my hands were in the right place, or what he was expecting. I lost myself in him.
My hands rested at his hips, and I wanted to do some exploring of my own. I pulled my hands in until they rested on his stomach between us. At my movement, his lips pressed a little bit harder against mine. His tongue pushed a little bit deeper. I slid both hands up, feeling the hard curves of his body beneath the fabric of his shirt. When my exploration reached his chest, his hand tugged my hip forward, so that my stomach was pressed against him.
I could feel the way he wanted me, and a trickle of anxiety started at my spine. Then his kiss turned harder and faster, and I raced to follow his lead, ignoring my nerves.
I left one hand on his chest, and wrapped the other around his neck, and pulled myself up farther on my tiptoes, so that my hips lined up with his.
Garrick broke the kiss, and exhaled shakily against my lips. The brilliant blue I’d seen in his eyes earlier was overtaken almost completely by his black pupils. He placed a hand on my jaw; his thumb pulled at my bottom lip. For several long seconds, he just studied me.
“You
I lowered my heels to the floor, my calves burning too much to stay on my tiptoes. And I couldn’t look in his eyes any more. Every time I’d almost completely turned off my brain, he said something to turn it back on. I said, “You know you don’t need that line. I was already kissing you.”
“And what a good kiss it was.” His thumb brushed against my lip again, and he tipped my face back up toward him. “I’d like to do it again somewhere that isn’t your bathroom.”
“Oh, right.” Was he asking to go to my bedroom? I was pretty sure he was asking to go to my bedroom.
I fumbled with the doorknob for a few seconds before my clouded brain managed to swing the door open. We exited into the dark hallway again, and his hand found my back once more.
“Sorry, the hallway light is out, and I haven’t had a chance to change it.”
His lips were right by my ear when he answered, “I don’t mind the dark.”
All the tiny hairs along my skin stood on end.
We stepped into the living room, and I flipped on a light that actually worked. My apartment was a loft with an open floor plan. Two walls were brick, and the other was painted a pretty plum color. The ceiling was tall with exposed pipes criss-crossing above us. My bedroom was off to the right, separated from the living room by only a lavender curtain since I didn’t actually have a door.
“Well, this is my living room.” I gestured with one hand, unsure whether he expected a tour or if I should just skip straight to the bedroom. I’d never done this before, so I had no idea whether we were supposed to do the traditional niceties first. My heart ran wildly as he walked around the room, inspecting a painting here, a knick-knack there.
“It’s nice. Fits you, I think.”
I beamed. I loved this apartment. It always made me feel like I was in an episode of
“I’m ashamed to say that my place is still covered in boxes. Wouldn’t have made for a very interesting tour.”
God, how I wished we were at his place. Then he would be in control. I hated not knowing what I was supposed to do next.
His eyes flicked to the curtain that led to my bedroom. It was quick. His eyes were almost immediately back on the lamp he was standing next to, but I saw it.
This was it. I was about to have sex.
Should I tell him I was a virgin? I should tell him.
Should I tell him now? Or right before?
I remembered Kelsey’s advice, and forced myself to dial back my fears. I turned the volume down so low that I could pretend I wasn’t thinking at all.
Before I chickened out, I walked forward and held out my hand. He took it immediately, and I led him through the curtain and into my bedroom. There was no overhead lighting in this area, so I flipped on a lamp to my right, and then left him to turn on another beside my bed.
When I turned around he was holding up the indecently short mini-skirt that Kelsey had made me try on earlier.
His eyes met mine, and his grin made my lungs feel like they were on the verge of collapse. I snatched the skirt out of his hands, scooped up the few other articles of clothing still on my bed, and threw them into my closet.
“Sorry about that.”
“You don’t hear me complaining.”
I raised and eyebrow, and said, “Forget about it. You will never see me in that skirt.”
“Never? Is that a challenge, love?”
“It’s a promise.”
He skirted the corner of my bed to join me in the space between my bed and the wall. “I’d feel very comfortable helping you break that promise.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, his index finger dipping beneath the strap of my tank top.
“I’m sure you’d be comfortable helping me do a lot of things.”
His hand tightened on my shoulder and his eyes dropped to my lips.
“That I would.”
Then he kissed me.
He didn’t bother with soft and sweet this time. There was a hungry desperation in his kiss that had me gasping into his mouth. His teeth pulled on my bottom lip in the same way his thumb had earlier, and my whole body trembled in response. He bent slightly, and swept an arm around my waist, pulling me up and against him so that our bodies were lined up perfectly.
My toes barely brushed the floor, but it didn’t matter. He was holding me up. I buried my hands into his messy locks, and threw myself into the kiss. He took a few steps backward, and sat on the edge of my bed. On instinct, my legs went on either side of his lap, straddling him. The hand that had been around my waist curved around my butt and pulled me against him.
If I had any doubt about where this was heading, it disappeared then. He pulled me again, his own hips tilting up at the same time, and I broke the kiss, gasping. His mouth skimmed across my jaw and down my neck. His lips lingered over my pulse point, his tongue brushing across the sensitive skin. He continued down over my collarbone until my tank top blocked any further progress. I thought he would stop, but he slipped the tank top strap off my shoulder, and his lips never left my skin. His other hand snuck beneath the bottom of my shirt, teasing the skin around the waistband of my skirt.
My hands were still tangled in his hair, and I tightened my grip and pulled his face back to mine. His hand brushed higher as we kissed, smoothing over my ribcage, my skin burning in his wake. When his hand cupped my breast, I rocked against him, and he groaned. The skirt I’d thrown on earlier was up around my thighs, and there was so little between us. I tilted my hips forward again, and this time it was me who moaned. When his other hand found the edge of my shirt, it was to pull it up and over my head.
We broke our kiss to let the fabric pass between us. I resisted the urge to cover myself as his gaze raked over me. And God was I thankful that Kelsey had insisted I wear some cute lingerie. This particular set was black and white lace.
