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We just left an arena filled with tens of thousands of people screaming her name. I’ve followed her career, but I’ve given any news involving her personal life a wide berth, which is why I had no idea she was ‘dating’ Kyle.
Before him, she probablyactuallydated other musicians. Actors. Celebrities. Rich, successful guys.
And I’m asking if she’s fantasized aboutme.
Her hand delves up and under the hem of my shirt, and I forget about any embarrassment. Her warm fingers brush against my abs and then journey down to the waistband of my jeans, and I’m having trouble focusing on anything at all. Thoughts and feelings slip between my fingers like I’m holding on to water.
“Yeah.” Her voice is husky. “I’ve imagined italot, actually.”
Now, I’m wishing I hadn’t mentioned it for a whole other reason, calledpressure. There’s a reason people say reality doesn’t live up to fantasy. A fantasy is exactly how you orchestrate it. Reality likes to do its own thing.
“Wow. No pressure.”
Sutton tugs at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. As soon as it falls to the floor, her hands are back on me, running across my chest and making me glad Chris had me tag along on his lengthy workout routine after school most days.
“This is already better,” she tells me. “You weren’treallywith me any of the times I imagined it. So, this is already better.”
I rest my hands on her hips and walk her back against the wall that separates the sitting room of her suite from the bedroom. “Good.”
Sutton is still touching me. Her hands journey up my arms and across my shoulders. Down my abs before sliding around to my back to pull me closer to her. My breathing quickens, and my heart pounds as she rubs up against me.
“What are you thinking?” she whispers.
“I’m thinking…this is probably going to be embarrassing—for me. I’d say it’s been a little while—and it has—but it’s more that it’syou.”
She half-smiles.
“What are you thinking?” I ask her.
“I’m thinking…” It turns into a full one. “I’m thinkingfuck fate.”
“Yeah?”
Sutton nods. “Yeah.”
And then she kisses me. It hits me like a lightning bolt. A shot of adrenaline. Fresh oxygen after being underwater.
I mostly imagined kissing Sutton to be soft and sweet. There’s a glimpse of that, where we brush lips and touch tongues and it’s everything a first kiss feels like.
And then it turns desperate.Dirty.
We stumble from the wall into her bedroom. Sutton walks backward. Our lips don’t separate once during the whole trip from the door to the bed. As soon as her back hits the comforter, she reaches for the edge of her tank top.
I pull her hands away, pinning them above our heads. “Not yet.”
She wriggles against me, impatient. “Teddy.”
“Not yet.”
I kiss a line down the column of her throat, lingering on her collarbone. Sutton arches up against me, trying to force more friction. Her nipples are sharp points, rubbing against my chest through her thin tank top.
“Teddy. Please.”
I cover her mouth with mine, absorbing the vibrations of her moans as I grind my erection against her. There’s not a measure of time that could pass and be enough of kissing her. I memorize her lips with mine. Their texture, their taste, their responsiveness.
We make out like the teenagers we met as for a long time. Lots of minutes. Maybe hours.
My hands creep up and under her shirt slowly. Each swipe of her tongue chips away at my willpower more.
