He must agree this is insane. The cold, logical part of him must be driving all these questions. But he kisses my forehead, drawing my eyes up to him. “Do you trust me?”
A smile breaks over my face as I recognize that question. “Yes.”
He kisses the side of my neck. My eyes close.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He helps me peel his shirt over his shoulders. His hands slide into the few buttons on my blouse that are still fastened. It drops to the floor behind me and cold air pricks my skin, driving me forward into the warm mass of his body. It’s happening. It’sactuallyhappening. Belatedly, it hits me how long it’s been since I did any of this. Should I be worried about screwing it up? Curtis and I weren’t exactly discerning lovers. We only had each other. What if Sid is expecting something more sophisticated than I knowhow to give? But then his hand threads beneath the clasp of my bra and it’s so wonderful to be touched there again, the worry melts away.
It’s been too long since I let myself be close with someone like this—yet I can’t think of anyone I would have wanted to share myself with in those empty years other than him. If I have any regrets, it’s only that we didn’t do this sooner.
I pull away so that I can back up and seat myself on the foot of his bed, finally getting a good look at him. All I can think isholy hell, I’m a lucky girl. His chest is even paler than the rest of him, which shouldn’t surprise me, but it still amazes me how brown my tanned skin looks against his. His pecs are well defined, with fine, blonde hair spread across them. It’s soft against my palms when he bends close to me.
I press my hands against his clavicle. Even when he’s trying to be slow and gentle, the sheer force of his body is intense, and I lie back on the bed, grateful for the support of the mattress. I scootch back, making room as he climbs over me, and then we’re hooking fingers into each other’s jeans.
He takes a moment to simply look at me, lying exposed with my back against his pillows. “How are you even real?” he murmurs—and if I could find the strength to speak, I would return the compliment.
But he doesn’t seem to mind my breathless silence. His smile is so wide, it pulls at the scar near his ear. “There isn’t a single inch of you I haven’t thought about touching.”
“Oh. Then I guess you better get to work.”
“Gladly.” He kisses my stomach. Then his hands slide down my side, scooping around my breasts, caressing my stomach, tickling the inside of my thigh. His hand lingers there, sending a shuddering wave through me. No part of me wants for attention. I pull one of his hands close tome—the one that still bears the scar from my slingshot—and kiss it. It’s the best way I know how to say thank you.
But he’s not done with me yet. Far from it.
“You ready?” he murmurs, and I nod, as certain as I can be.
To my amazement, he has a lambskin condom in the cedar chest. It makes me recklessly giddy. As soon as he’s ready, I pull him toward me, eager to finally feel the weight of his body against mine.
We meet, and my breath catches. This might not be my first time, but it’s been so long since anyone has touched me like this. Light pulses through me as he takes me in his arms; presses his mouth against my cheek, my neck, my breast. As he skates lower down my stomach, his name comes tumbling out of my lips. “Sid.”
“Yes?” His voice rasps against my ear.
I don’t actually have anything to say. There are no words for this feeling coursing through me. Despite the cold night, everything is on fire. The press of his hand over my wrist. The way his mouth traces the curve of my neck. We find a rhythm together, our bodies rocking, causing a squeak in his mattress as we dig into each other.
All I want is to dive deeper into the swell of this feeling. No matter how long we go or how my body tightens around him, I want more. And then, all at once, I’m drowning. I gasp for air as wave after wave breaks over me. His breath is hot against my shoulder. My fingers dig into his hips as I try to steady myself, stay grounded to this moment that is at once too much and the only thing that could ever be enough. Soon, I’m crying out his name and he’s gasping mine, until we both unfurl together, like sails bound for a foreign land.
Finally, we come apart, though we never stop touching. He rolls to my side, and I wrap my arm over his shoulder,keeping him close. His hair sticks up at odd angles thanks to my roving hands, but it’s so much softer than mine, I can’t stop playing with it.
Once we’ve both caught our breath, he pulls me close again, so that our stomachs press together. “Hey,” he whispers.
I burrow my face in his neck, deliriously happy.
“Did you want to go back to your room with April tonight? Or did you want to stay—”
“You had better not be kicking me out, Sid Charles.”
“I’m not.” He laughs. “But she will notice if you don’t come back. I wanted to let you know I’ll be okay, either way.”
“Okay? What would you prefer?” I ask, more anxious than I dare admit. If this was a one and done thing for him, I’ll be furious, heartbroken, and will push him out the second storey window.
His grip tightens against my back. “I would have thought you could guess.”
I grin, then plant a kiss on his mouth. “I think I’ll stay. But on one condition.”
