Page 67 of Rumor Has It

“What?” Becky asked, frowning.

Wren smiled up at her. “You can do that so easily. You did it in your bedroom, too.”

“What are you even talking about?” Becky resisted the urge to get self conscious.

“You just slid an arm under me and bam, moved me.” Wren leaned up and kissed her again. A soft, gentle kiss. “It’s hot. But it also made me laugh because I wasn’t expecting it.”

Becky fought her own smile and resisted the urge to call Wren tiny and flingable. She’d probably flung Wren enough. Instead, she just nodded. “I’ll do my best to ask for permission—or at least give you a warning—next time.”

Wren rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re such a dork.”

“Don’t be rude. I could move you off this bed.”

“No.” Wren shook her head, leaning up and kissing her. Their bare chests pressed against each other with the motion. Wren’s skin was soft and warm. Her arms wrapped around Becky’s shoulders, keeping Becky pulled to her. Wren shook her head again when she broke their kiss. “We’re on the same team tonight.”

A warmth spread through her. Her heart slammed against her chest. “Deal,” Becky whispered, closing the gap between them.

Wren kissed like her life depended on it. Becky was glad there weren’t any visible clocks near the bed. They were able to take their time, savoring the moment and each other, exploring each other in peace. When Becky genuinely couldn’t take it any longer, she finally let her fingertips trace the hem of Wren’s sleep-boxers.

“Yes,” Wren whispered, lifting her hips off the mattress.

Becky tugged, as gently as she could muster, urging the boxers off Wren. She was doing her best to not move too quickly. They were good at that together. They were fantastic at colliding. But if playing together had taught Becky anything, it was that patience with Wren was far more rewarding.

She leaned back and enjoyed the view. Wren could have been carved in stone by Michelangelo himself. Every inch of her was perfection. Becky let her fingers touch and trace. They swirled around the phases of the moon tattooed on Wren’s hip.

“When did you get this one?” She asked, turning her attention to Wren’s face.

Wren was watching her with an expression that could only be described as awe. “That was my first tattoo,” she said, her gaze shooting down to Becky’s fingertips and then back up to Becky’s eyes. “I had just turned eighteen and I didn’t want my dad to know I got a tattoo.” She let out a laugh. “So, I got it on my hip.”

Becky readjusted herself, hovering inches over the ink. She kissed each phase, seven in total in Wren’s tattoo. Other than full and new, Becky genuinely didn’t know the names for them, but she didn’t care. If Wren liked them, she did, too.

“Does it mean something to you?” Becky smiled up at Wren, more than a little aware of the fact that repositioning like this had her perfectly settled in between Wren’s legs.

Wren nodded, her movement a little shaky. “Yeah.” She tapped the first moon in the phase. “That’s a waxing crescent. That’s where I felt like I was when I got it.”

Becky actually focused on Wren’s tattoo for a second. The waxing crescent was the smallest sliver of a moon on its path to being full again. “Where are you now?”

Wren pointed to the next phase.

“What’s that one called?” Becky asked, kissing it again.

“First quarter,” Wren answered, though her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she cupped Becky’s cheek with it. “You’re so pretty.” Her voice was barely more than an exhale.

Becky turned her head to kiss Wren’s palm. She’d never actually felt that pretty, but hearing Wren say it like that made her believe it. Wren’s thumb caught on her lip and without much thought or preamble, Becky sucked the digit into her mouth.

Wren’s jaw dropped, their tender moment immediately fused with hunger. Becky pulled back, releasing Wren’s thumb with a filthy pop.

“Fuck,” Wren whispered.

Becky held back her cheeky comment, and instead dipped lower. She traced her tongue up the inside of Wren’s thigh, savoring the way Wren’s legs immediately fell apart for her. Becky felt Wren’s hand tangle into her still shower-damp hair, squeezing desperately as Becky finally flicked her tongue over Wren’s clit.

“Fuck, Rebecca,” Wren moaned. “Just like that.”

Becky fought the urge to grin, focusing instead on earning more of Wren’s delicious praise. It wasn’t just Wren’s words, either. Every inch of Wren’s body was proving her pleasure. Goose bumps trailed in the wake of Becky’s fingers as they traced up Wren’s abs, pausing only to cup her breasts. Becky’s thumbs circled around Wren’s pebbled nipples, delighting in the way Wren’s hips twitched in response to the attention. Wren’s back arched off the bed, her whole body begging Becky for more.

“Rebecca, please,” Wren whined. She rocked her hips upwards, grinding her clit harder against Becky’s tongue.

Becky leaned back, smiling. She could feel Wren’s pleasure, already coating her lips and chin. “Please what, Wren? What do you need?” She wanted to hear it. She’d do just about anything Wren asked her to—so long as she got to hear Wren ask for it.