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Over the years, I’ve done everything in my power to eradicate the emotions that have always bubbled beneath the surface where Elle is concerned. None of the other girls I’ve been with have ever come close to touching what I feel for her. In hindsight, I realize that I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the chance to make her mine. Elle belongs to me, and, if I have anything to do with it, nothing will ever change that.
Including her brother.
It’s taken me a long time to arrive at this conclusion. Now that I have, there’s no turning back or talking myself out of it.
Hot spikes of need rush through my veins, suffusing every cell in my body until it feels like I’ll explode. When I finally break away, we’re both breathing hard, and there’s a dazed look filling her eyes. It’s sexy as hell. The urge to scoop her up and carry her to the bedroom thrums through me.
Instead of doing that, I say, “Should we head outside for a while?”
I need to cool off before we get carried away.
From beneath the dark fringe of her lashes, she gives me a coy look. “Is that really what you want to do?”
Hell, no.
But I also don’t want the time we spend here to be all about sex. What I feel for her is so much more than that. And I want to make sure she knows it.
I press a quick kiss against her lips. “I think it would be for the best. Let’s take the ATV out and explore some of the trails. We can see everything that’s changed since we were kids.” It’s an activity we both used to enjoy.
Her eyes clear as she nods. “Sure, that sounds fun.”
“After that, we can make dinner.”
Her brows rise as she drops her chin. “And then what?”
My lips tremble around the edges with a smile. “I don’t know. Probably watch a little TV before hitting the sack.”
She blinks as her brows slam together. “Are you being serious?”
“I’m exhausted after that game. I was hoping to get a little extra shuteye.” There’s a pause. “Isn’t that what you had in mind?”
With narrowed eyes, she tilts her head. “I can’t tell if you’re screwing with me or not.”
I tug her to me as my lips hover over hers. “When I’m fucking you, baby, you’ll know it.”
Her body melts against mine. “I want you so much, Carson.”
Her soft admittance has everything crumbling inside me. How the hell did I go so long without making her mine?
It seems crazy.
As I get lost in her fathomless depths, it occurs to me that when I take this woman to bed, it’ll be different from any other past experience. This won’t be fucking or screwing. I’ll be making love to her, and that’s not something I’ve ever done before. The fact that this is Elle’s first time makes it all the more special. It’s important I slow things down and make it the best it can possibly be.
Tonight will change everything between us.
It’s a lot of pressure, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Elle
I’d be lying through my teeth if I didn’t admit I’m nervous. Sure, I’ve scrolled through Tumblr and listened to my friends gossip about what it’s like to have sex, but I think we can all agree it’s one of those things you can’t fully understand until you experience it firsthand.
And tonight, that’s what will happen.
That being said, there’s no one else I’d want to do this with other than Carson. When I’ve laid awake at night in my bed and imagined the man who would be my first, it was always him.
From where I’m sitting at the long stretch of granite counter, I watch him move around the spacious kitchen, preparing dinner for us. He’s been here so many times that he knows where all of the pots and utensils are located.
Earlier this afternoon, we picked up lettuce, tomato, bread, and bacon to make BLT’s. When we were kids, it’s a meal my mom would make for us when we came in for lunch after being out swimming or fishing all morning. There’s something familiar about it that settles the butterflies that are attempting to wing their way to life in the pit of my belly.
I shift on my chair, wondering if it would help to busy myself with a meaningless task in order to take my mind off what will be occurring in a few short hours. As much as I want it to happen, that doesn’t mean I’m not anxious.
What if I’m not good at it and he’s disappointed?
Or it really hurts?
Or I hate it?
Those butterflies now feel more like pterodactyls trying to fight their way free. It takes effort to gulp down the burst of nerves and clear my throat. “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”
