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I want to know them all, stake a flag in them declaring them mine, and let her claim me too.
I pull her into my lap, her strong thighs going astride my hips as she straddles me. Gripping her ass, I knead the flesh there as I kiss down her neck. She’s wearing a T-shirt tonight, so I can’t slip tank top straps down like before, but I manage to pull at the neckline to get more access to her skin. I trace her collarbone with my tongue, sucking the tender skin above it to bring blood to the surface. I might not be in her heart fully yet, but her body I can mark as mine. Her hands grip my hair, urging me on, wanting a bruise to remember this moment the same way she wanted the picture earlier.
“Willow,” I growl against her neck in warning when she rolls her hips.
“More,” she pleads.
“A little,” I concede hesitantly. I’m on the edge here, wanting her so badly but knowing it’s too soon for what I really want.
I guide her hips, rubbing her clit against the hard ridge of my cock through the two layers of denim. “Bobby.” Her moan is kerosene on a bonfire, and I move her harder, faster, letting her muffled cries direct me.
“Use me, sweetheart. Come on me, for fuck’s sake. Let me see you come for me.” It should be an order, but it’s as much a plea as her request for more was. I need this from her, her walls down, her guard dropped, her body mine.
She bucks her hips sharply, fucking me through our clothes. I can feel the warmth at her core, hotter than the steamy night around us. Her voice breaks, a cry cut off as she buries her mouth against my shoulder and shudders on top of me.
I thrust up a few more times, prolonging her orgasm for my own pleasure. Watching her come is my new favorite thing, I decide. One I want to repeat again . . . now.
But she sags against me, breathing rapidly. “Oh, my God. I haven’t . . . not since . . . phew—” She’s not able to string words together, something I’m familiar with, but while mine is a failure of my brain to express my thoughts and feelings, this moment is her body completely blissed out and unable to process in the sharp way she usually does. It’s beautiful and I feel fortunate to witness it, and even more lucky to have caused it.
She goes still and quiet, her pants slowing and becoming a steadier, slower pace. All the while, my hands move across her skin, touching her back, her thighs, her jawline, memorizing every inch.
“Are we going to your place tonight?” she asks when we’ve both recovered a bit.
“Brody and Rix are at my house,” I tell her disappointedly. “Not exactly any privacy to be had when you’re still in your childhood bedroom.”
“You could come into town with me,” she suggests.
I pull back, holding her in place. “I need to be clear here. Once I get inside you, there’s no going back. Hell, I don’t think there’s any going back now, for that matter. At least, not for me. But there are some things we need to talk about before we . . .”
The pause is awkward, a thought I’ve never considered marching through my brain. I almost said ‘fuck’, but I don’t want to just fuck Willow. I want to . . .
“Have sex?” she offers.
“Make love,” I correct, knowing that’s what it’ll be.
Her lashes flutter behind her frames, giving her that owlish look that tells me she’s thinking about something. After a moment, she lets me in on it. “Are you always so . . . committed?”
She seems genuinely curious, as though maybe I’m a serial monogamist who takes sex particularly seriously. I can’t help but laugh, which bounces her on my cock, and it complains, uncomfortably arguing with my brain.
“I’ve never made love, Willow. I fuck. It’s always been casual, scratching an itch, even when I was dating someone. But it’ll be different this time. At least for me. And I think for you too.”
I’m not asking for her number. I don’t need or want to know what she’s done in the past because it doesn’t matter. What I need to know is that she feels the same way I do.
Slowly, her gray eyes clear, and she nods, whispering her agreement. “I think so too.”
Immediately, she lays her head on my shoulder as though embarrassed that she said that, or maybe that she feels it. She wasn’t looking for a Prince Charming—hell, she might not even want one. But I’m the one she’s got and I’m not letting her go.
Chapter 13
Willow
“You have a perfectly normal sex drive, Willow Parker,” I tell my reflection, but it’s obvious I don’t believe the lie. Funny thing is, it’s truly never been a lie before. I’ve never even considered that I might be a bit overactive until Bobby Tannen got me all worked up and then denied me the deep, thorough dicking I wanted.
