Page 36 of All The Ways to Miss You

I never could have imagined that being with someone would be like this. Intensity builds in my core. My muscles tense, my insides contract, and when he lightly nibbles at my clit with his teeth, I finally lose myself. Spasms course through my body as I ride a wave of delirium with Evan locked between my legs.

“Oh, my God.” I stiffen and arch my body into him.

My release lasts for what feels like an eternity until my bones become worthless and limp. My arms and legs sink to the couch like jelly. I rub the heel of my hand into my forehead, holding on to that precious pressure blooming there, that euphoria of mind-numbing orgasmic perfection I never understood before now.

“I’m not done with you,” he growls.

Evan’s grinning because he knows what he’s done to me in a matter of minutes. His skill level is so high above my practically virginal state, it’s embarrassing. Maybe it was written on my face all this time. This girl needs a good bang. He only read the glaring neon sign.

He was right all along. Why would any woman give this up, no matter how much of a smart mouth he has? I could learn to love this smart-ass mouth for its special bedroom skills alone.

I shut off my brain and let my attention drift to other sensations. Evan’s hands massage my sides as he peppers my stomach with kisses, stopping at my breast, biting the nipple before tugging it with his teeth and teasing me.

I wince. The slight pain is rapturous, and I squeeze his torso between my thighs.

When his mouth touches mine again, I focus on what he can do to me next. I taste myself on him, and it’s so sexy, I need more. I need everything.

With his body hovering over me, I unbutton his jeans. When I unzip them and tug them off, he springs free and large.

“No boxers?” I find his gaze in the darkness.

“Commando.” He gives me a sheepish grin.

Our lips connect again as I grab him, stroking his length. I’m imagining myself on top of him, in front of him, below him, riding him six ways to Sunday and back around the block. He must want the same thing because with a crackle of a condom wrapper, he’s covering himself.

He kneels on the couch. His feet dangle over the cushion’s edge, his toes pointing toward the floor. With my butt supported by the back of the sofa, I face and straddle him. My thighs and knees press tight to his side. He lifts and slides me onto him until we’re united.

There’s a sense of relief behind his eyes. We sit for a moment, my gaze anchored to his. It means something to him, even if he won’t say what. And it means something to me, because it’s new and it’s with him.

His kisses are sweet, like every time before, reminding me we’re in perfect pretend lust.

“You feel amazing, Cait.” His raspy voice mixes with our moans. We kiss as he rolls beneath me.

He controls the movement of our bodies as we pump in a slow rhythm. I use my knees to lift and drive myself onto him, while he uses the power of his solid thighs to meet my crest.

He slides one hand between my legs and uses his thumb to circle my clit in slow, lingering movements. My breath catches at the immediate delirium it delivers, and I whine at having my core activated in two ways. When I lean back, he takes my breast in his mouth, sucking and nipping at its arousal. His hands are everywhere, touching everything, and I can’t breathe. I’m a live wire, wild and whipping in every direction under his skilled touch.

I latch my arms around his shoulders to heave us closer and skim my chest against his. Heat builds between us. My heart beats even faster as I tense and twist with need.

His face tucks into my shoulder where he’s breathing heavy, while I’m panting in his ear. We’re damp in this sprint, and closing in on each other. My walls tighten around him, all muscles contract, and I finally cry out. My intoxicating explosion spreads everywhere at once as we moan, coming together. Our movements slow until we collapse in kisses.

“You might be the death of me,” he admits. We’re tight in each other’s arms, descending from our sex-induced high.

“There’s a possibility I may not be able to move—ever again.”

I laugh from relief, and he laughs too. He kisses me one last time before he lifts me off and settles me on the couch. I lie still, blissed out and naked with him slumped at my side, while his fingertips tease the length of my arm. Gentle touches glide back and forth, tracing my skin.

He kisses my shoulder as if signaling we’re done, and he rolls to his feet. I watch him make his way toward the bathroom. What comes next? Is this already over, even though I’m still suffering from the lingering aftereffects? An Evan hangover?

I exhale and stand, following him. Inside the bathroom, he’s washing his hands, and I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his neck. He stiffens and relaxes when his gaze catches mine in the mirror’s reflection. He turns and wraps me in his arms.

Even though I don’t want to, I’m about to ask him if I should leave, uncertain if this is where we end things. I’ve never done this before. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and my cheeks burn with uncomfortable heat. I chew the inside of my cheek and glance around. I’m not ready for this to be over, not ready to form those words that make me ache inside just by thinking them.

Evan saves me by speaking first.

seventeen

“Stay with me tonight,” he says.