“Does it feel strange?” he asked.
“Strange?” I repeated, thinking about it. I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t. But I know it probably should feel strange.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Well, we’ve only known each other for two weeks, and I’m pretty sure you hated me for at least one of those.”
He took a step closer to me. “I never hated you,” he said softly, lifting his hand up to my chin. “I might have wanted to hate you, though.” He smiled.
“And what about us then?” I asked.
“What about us?”
“Well, what does moving in here mean, for us?”
“Well,” he leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “I can’t speak for you, but I would really like to see where this goes.”
“You would, would you?” I kissed him back.
“It feels good with you.Ifeel good when I’m with you.” He let his lips linger on mine.
I nodded. My lips dragged against his. “I’d like to see where it goes too,” I said softly.
We kissed. Long and slow and passionate, and it felt right. Like every kiss I’d ever had in my life before this one was only a rehearsal. Practice for this moment right here.
“So, are we dating then?” I asked.
He pulled me closer. “We are,” he said.
My body shivered and I wanted to dissolve into his arms. “And are we taking it slow?” I asked breathily, as his hand slipped under my jersey and his fingers traced the curve of my lower back.
He pulled away momentarily and looked at me. “By slow, do you mean I can’t do this . . .?” His hand suddenly gripped my bum and he pulled me closer, rocking his hips into mine.
I shook my head. “It would be a tragedy if you couldn’t do that anymore,” I whispered breathily.
“A total tragedy.”
Our eyes locked. His were dark and stormy and full of lust.
“It would be an even bigger tragedy if I couldn’t do this . . .” He slipped his other hand down the front of my pants.
“What else would be a tragedy?” I asked breathily, closing my eyes as his fingers stroked me through the thin cotton fabric.
“How about this?” he asked, slipping his finger into my panties and straight inside me.
I opened my eyes and inhaled sharply.
“That would . . .” I moaned. “Def . . . ah, definitely . . . be . . .” I couldn’t get the words out as he moved in and out of me. “Yes, a tragedy,” I whispered. All I could do now was close my eyes and submit to the feelings rushing through my body. I held onto him, my legs getting softer and softer as he brought me nearer and nearer . . .
And then he stopped.
I opened my eyes with shock. Gasping. Panting. Feeling stunned by the sudden loss of him.
“But you know what would be an even bigger tragedy?” he asked, gripping my hips and walking me backward.
I shook my head as he guided me through the living room, towards the kitchen. “The real tragedy would be if I couldn’t get you out of these clothes, right now, and have you naked, and underneath me.”
I nodded. “That would be a great tragedy indeed.”
