I take a second to breathe and feel my pulse slow while I get ahold of my body. We aren’t doing this now and we aren’t doing this here, but Hattie has a point.
“Look—” I lower my hands from my head and open them out to her, silently inviting her to place her hands—and her trust—in mine. When she doesn’t move, I silently beg. We need to touch. Hattie studies my hands for just a moment longer before she gives me hers.
When I’ve threaded my fingers through hers and we are gripping each other tight, she lifts her gaze to mine and her slow smile blooms.
And this? Standing in front of her with our hands locked like this? Her smiling up at me? God, it makes me feel rooted like never before. Like I’m a longleaf pine with a tap root that is anchored in the planet’s core.
“I want you like you wouldn’t believe.” Even this is an understatement, and I’m glad when the soft smile of hers lifts even higher. “But you’re right. This isn’t just about your first time. It’s about our first time.”
When she triple blinks, I think she gets me. That this makes sense for us both. That it means something.
“And I should’ve thought that through before we got carried away… We’re new.” When I say this, she squeezes my hands, her eyes widening with what I think is excitement, and I squeeze back. “That doesn’t mean there won’t come a time when I’ll let myself get carried away with you in this shed. Or out in that field under the stars in the back of my truck.”
Her lips part on a soft gasp as her eyes widen even more.
Note to self: Buy an air mattress and electric blanket with adaptive power cords for the truck.
“But I want our first time to be—” I stop myself before I say special because that’s not what I mean.
Hattie’s eyes narrow. “Don’t say special,” she warns.
“I wasn’t going to say s?—”
“Because I have some salty associations with the word special.”
“Heard.” I stroke the side of her thumb with mine. “What I meant is that I want our first time to be good. Comfortable. Clean.” I give an innocent shrug. “Mattress-supported.”
This earns me a giggle.
“I don’t want to rush…” I bring one pair of our joined hands toward her cheek, and when she shows no sign of resisting, I let our knuckles caress her. Her eyes flutter closed. “I want it to last for hours.”
Slowly, giving her time to protest, I drag our joined hands up the wall behind her and press my hips into her.
Hattie whimpers in the sexiest fucking way.
And I can’t resist the pout of her lips. I lean down and taste them.
“Mmmm…” I moan. “I love the way you taste.”
She whimpers and squirms just a little beneath me.
“Beck.” She turns my name into a plea.
I fucking love it.
“What, honey?” I brush my lips against hers. Once. Twice.
She sighs, and there’s a hitch in it that snaps me to attention.
I draw back and look down at her. A smile wobbles on her lips, and her eyes shine with unshed tears.
I keep my voice calm. Soft. “What is it? What are you feeling?”
Hattie’s wobbly smile grows, and one tear slips free. I lean in, catch it with the tip of my tongue, and she laughs the softest laugh.
“I love that you asked what I’m feeling, not what’s wrong. I love that,” she says wetly. “Because nothing’s really wrong… Not really.”
I raise a brow. “Not really?”
