He pushes up on his elbows, causing me to move back a bit. “You deserve someone to hold your hand while walking down the fucking street, you deserve to be taken out to dinner, you deserve all the pretty shit that comes before this.”
“And we both know we’re past all that, and we’re ready—”
“You’re asking me to fuck you, Savvy, when it’s more than that with us. You and I both know that.”
“We’ve had so many dates. We used to meet at The Bean three times a week. We’ve done holidays together, passed on each other’s traditions to one another. We used to sit in class and talk more than any two people I’ve ever witnessed talking to each other, and not trivial, meaningless banter. We don’t need a label. We don’t need anyone to ‘ship’ our relationship. We don’t need the things that others do, Patrick.”
He sits up, our faces but a breath between us. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“Then do it.”
“You have no fucking idea how badly I want you, have wanted you … but—”
I press my lips against his and whisper, “Please don’t stop wanting me.”
He wraps his arm around me and flips me onto my back. Hovering over me, I can see him trying to stop the inevitable. His eyes darken, and he groans … before giving in and sealing his lips over mine.
I was expecting something so much different. Shocked at how soft his firm lips feel on mine, and the gentleness in the pressure against them, I sigh, and he dips his tongue inside my mouth, tasting me in slow, long licks. Just like everything about Patrick Steel, his kiss is confident and holds just a slight amount of aggressiveness that I haven’t ever experienced. And now I know I never want to experience a kiss any other way.
The heat growing inside of me has multiplied. Never in my life have I felt this wet, this much need.
I didn’t realize my hands had left my sides until I knot my fingers in his thick, silky strands, using them to pull him closer, wanting—no, needing—him to deepen the kiss.
His growl vibrates against my mouth, and he deepens the kiss, stroking his tongue against mine in lush slides.
His chest now against mine, my nipples tightening to near pain, I feel the beat of his heart against me as he slides his hand under my head, knotting my hair, groaning as I press against him.
When he breaks the kiss, we’re both panting, trying to catch our breaths, breaths I haven’t realized I’ve missed taking.
“I want you, Savvy, so fucking bad, but we need to talk through last night.”
“After,” I plead.
“I am having a hard enough time keeping my head straight after that kiss. So, after … after we fuck—”
He stops when I gasp.
He shakes his head. “Savvy, it will never be just sex with you. We both know that. That kiss confirmed it. It’s going to be fucking. It’s going to be raw. I’m going to take from you, and you’re going to take from me. When we’re fucking, there’s to be no walls, no presumptions, and no assumptions. It’s going to be done with reckless abandon. It’s going to be like me with a guitar, and you at that pottery wheel—all that passion we hold for those things, combined into one shared experience. It’s going to fuck you, and it’s going to fuck me for anything else.”
“Good.”
“Good?” He shakes his head. “Babe, it’s fucking terrifying.”
“I’m not afraid. I want all that.”
He sits back on his heels, his hard cock pressed against his black boxers, the tip poking out of his waistband. The piercing that I thought would be a turnoff, that silver barbell, is hot, sexy, hypnotizing.
“Is it healed?”
“We’re talking heart shit, Savvy, and you’re staring at my cock?”
“I can multitask. Women can—”
“Don’t bring that shit into bed. Those misconceptions, those divides … Whoever said a man can’t multitask is a fucking liar. I’ve written songs about you sipping on frothy, hot cocoa while having extremely in-depth conversations.”
I smile. “That’s kind of beautiful.”
He scrubs one hand over his face and uses the other to squeeze his erection.
“Are you multitasking now?”
He shakes his head. “Cute, Savvy. Real cute.”
“Patrick—”
“I’m pissed at you,” he seethes.
I sit up and pull my knees to my chest. “I’m pissed at me, too.”
“Last night, you told Truth I fucked Chloe at school, that you watched me, that—”
“Technically, I have, but in a recurring dream.”
“What?” he gasps.
I shrug. “Might make me sound crazy, but—”
He interrupts with a loud, “Might?”
“I don’t drink often … for obvious reasons.”
“Then you don’t do it ever again, because seriously, last night, you lunged at me a handful of times, plopped down on me, and kissed me for the very first time.”
“I’ve spend all night trying to figure out why I displayed those behaviors. All I’ve come up with is that I knew I wanted to touch you from almost the minute I saw you, and the alcohol removed that inhibition, and the aggressiveness behind it was misplaced. Oh, and the more obvious? It clearly, painstakingly, and embarrassingly showcased my social and physical inexperience.” I look up at him, wide-eyed and almost shocked. “And while we’re fucking, for as long as this lasts, I won’t drink. And I think maybe you shouldn’t when you know we’ll see each other.”
“Let’s back up to the fact that you just shit on yourself while reciting your back-alley therapy sessions that you also conducted with yourself. You fucked up, Savvy. We all do. So, say that you don’t like labels, then don’t put one on yourself. Four words—got drunk, fucked up. End of.”
“I won’t make that mistake again. End of.”
He nods. “Same.”
“I think your behavior after drinking was based on my insecurity and jealousy, so I’ll work on that.”
“Fuck that, being jealous gets a bad rep. I told you that, if you were mine, and someone’s sliding into my DMs, you have my permission to say
