Page 113 of Any Port in a Storm

“Mmhmm,” he groans, reaching up to cup my breast. “Fuck, Laurel.”

Hearing him lace my name together with profanity sets me on fire. I always knew Nick had an edge about him, but…jesus. For such an otherwise courteous gentleman, he is shockingly vulgar in sexual situations.

It’s quite…exciting.

He lifts my chin. “Are you sure this is okay?”

I know why he’s asking. Because of seven years of friendship and subtext and longing and missed connections. Because of autumn formal, and Sam, and Alyssa. Because of Philadelphia.

But I also know that this is more than okay with me. This is…everything. I can’t fight it anymore.

My eyes dance from the lilt of his lips to the crease at his brow and back again. “I need you,” I breathe.

He inhales shakily. “Thank fuck.”

I whisper close to his ear. “Such a dirty mouth. What would your mother say?”

“Don’t talk about my mother right now.”

My laugh abruptly shifts to a moan when he slides his hand up my dress and teases the delicate skin along my inner thigh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Do tell,” I trill, running my hands under his shirt. He’s warm and firm and strong, and I want to bury my lips in his skin; pay homage to all the things I love about him.

Nick fixes his eyes directly on mine, sending my stomach lurching. “I’ve wanted this every time I’ve seen you in that blue dress.” He drags a finger lazily along the elastic of my underwear. “I’ve wanted it every time you’ve laughed at my jokes. Every time you’ve talked about books or art or poetry. Every time you’ve put your goddamn hands in my hair.”

My voice comes out raspier than usual. “I thought you liked that.”

“You thought right.” He slips his fingers further under the lace at the edge of my thigh, and his pupils darken. “Every time you’ve called me Nicholas. Every time you open your beautiful mouth, I just want to kiss you.” He shakes his head, then drags his finger against the moisture pooling at my core. “I always want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” I whisper.

A smile starts, then he leans in, brushing his lips over mine and making the room lurch. There’s an electricity in his touch that illuminates every cell in my body; makes me feel like I’ve never really been fully present before.

He makes me feel alive.

I wrap my hands around his shoulders, pulling him close, as he slides his tongue against mine and walks me backward toward his room. Little sparks in every color of the rainbow are firing back and forth across my synapses, declaring the news that this is finally happening.

When we get to his room, Nick stops kissing me long enough to tease the bow at my waist, letting the fabric of my dress fall to the side. He slips it off my shoulders, then moves to kiss my neck. His lips dance against my skin, almost reverent, as he slides the straps of my bra down my shoulders, then dips his thumbs under the cups. “Fuck, Laurel.”

My breath hitches as I drag his shirt up his torso. To the best of my knowledge, Nick pretty much never sets foot in the gym, but apparently the frequent jogs he takes around campus to clear his head have done wonders for his abs, too. He’s just the right kind of strong—the kind that makes me a little weak in the knees, but that’s built with an unassuming confidence, rather than some sort of hypermasculine desire to bench press his own weight.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispers in my ear. “I want this to be perfect for you.”

I guide us toward the bed, straddling his waist and pressing him down into the pillows. “It’s us,” I say. “It’s already perfect for me.”

A shy smile hits his eyes first, and it melts me from the inside out. Then his lips are on mine again, his hands moving wildly across my back, over my breasts, down my hips. It’s a cacophony of the purest sensations I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

I drag my hand down his chest, over his shoulders, and lower. Touching him like this is so surreal, I almost forget where I am; forget that this is really happening. I’ve imagined Nick and I together for a full third of my life at this point. The payoff is nothing short of astounding.

My hands continue their relentless quest to make up for lost time.

“I hope you’re finding everything to your…satisfaction,” Nick says with a rakish grin.

“Yeah,” I breathe, teasing my fingers over his pelvic bone and reveling in the effect it’s having on him. “I’m more than satisfied.”

He runs his hand over my breasts, sending desperate pangs of need from my brain to my core and back again. “I promise,” he whispers against my neck. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

My lips brush his ear. “Likewise.”