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“You’ve imagined what my room would look like?” I asked, my body beginning to betray the rational of my mind again.
“I’ve imagined a lot of things…”
Dammit, was she flirting now? What the hell was I supposed to do, be the gentleman, or accept her challenge?
“Like what?” my mouth asked, before my brain gave it permission.
Her hand slid up my old Pink Floyd T-shirt, leaving a trail of heat as it ventured up my chest, over my shoulder, and slid into my hair, fisting.
Yup, I was screwed.
Before I had a chance to have an inner-debate, I brushed my lips softly against hers. Teasing. Totally in opposition to what I wanted to do, which was to throw her onto the floor and have my way with her.
Instead I kissed her softly, slowly, accepting each small moan that emitted from her lips, then delving in when she opened her mouth to me. I let the sweet torture of those moans guide me.
My hands ran down her back, over those sweet little yoga pants, until I finally found what I was looking for. I bit back a groan at the first feel of the soft, full roundness of her ass.
I was an ass man, and God, hers was perfect.
I pulled her closer to me, nearly losing all semblance of control when she rotated her hips and rubbed my cock so deliberately that it now felt like I had a steel rod in my shorts. I had to put the brakes to this before things became painful.
“Gwen, babe, we need to slow down,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and moving her a good foot away from me.
“Why?” she asked huskily, her lips swollen from my kisses.
“Because this is just our first date,” I replied, trying to convince myself, as well as her, that we needed to stop. “And… Dinner…”
“Craig, this may be our first date but we’ve know each other for ten years. We don’t exactly have to go through the whole getting-to-know-you phase.”
She looked so cute, arguing with me, her hands on her hips, that I conceded.
“You win,” I said as I closed the gap and took her back in my arms.
Gwen laughed against my lips, causing me to smile as I broke away and began kissing every ounce of exposed skin I could find. I was a man in desperate need, and the sound of her laughter only drove that need higher.
God, she was perfect.
Her hands began an exploration of their own, and I knew I needed to get us horizontal before my knees buckled and we both fell to the ground.
I eased up back toward the bed, and when her knees hit the edge, she sat and looked up at me, her eyes full of the same hunger and want that was threatening to consume me.
I grabbed the fabric of my shirt from behind my head and pulled, taking my shirt off in one swift motion. As soon as the material was gone, Gwen’s curious fingers replaced it.
I gave myself a moment to enjoy the feel of her hands on my skin, closing my eyes and just letting the sensations flow through me. When she brushed against my belly button and dipped her fingers into the band of my shorts, I knew I needed to get back to my own exploration, or else things would end much more quickly than I wanted them to.
“Lay back,” I instructed, causing Gwen’s hands to still. Suddenly, I remembered the potatoes on the stove and said, “I’ll be right back,” and ran out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-One ~ Gwen
Present Day (20 years old)
I watched, somewhat alarmed, as Craig ran out of the bedroom. Then chuckled when I heard him swearing, and realized he was in the kitchen. We’d forgotten that he was making dinner.
I giggled to myself as I pushed back onto the bed and rested my head on Craig’s pillow. I placed a hand on my stomach, which was now all atwitter with nerves. When we were in the moment, I was caught up in the desire that Craig evoked. A desire unlike anything I’d ever felt before. But now that he’d left the room and reality had a chance to set it, the doubts were creeping into my mind.
What if we had sex and it wasn’t good?
Well, all signs are pointing to the fact that so far things are better than good, they are amazing, so there is a good chance that it will only get better from here.
