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"Answer me, Savannah," I command, holding her wrist in one hand and her chin in the other.
Our eyes lock, and she doesn't try to hit me anymore, although her second hand is free.
"You know why," she whispers, barely audible, breathing heavily, and her chest heaves and falls again, brushing her breasts against my chest, "I need my first time."
She saysneeddistinctlybut so desperately, as if she's talking about water while she's lost in the desert.
I know when she says she needs her first time, she meanswith me.She didn't say it, but I'm sure she can't stop thinking about what could've happened between us the other night if she wasn't a virgin.
I have to let her go. I have to let her find someone else, someone better than me.
But I can't do that...
I try to convince myself that I simply cannot let her sleep with someone she barely knows, but is it true? Would I let her have sex with someone she knows?
Of course not. Because I simply can't let her make love to someone who isn't me.
I let her wrist go, and her arms fall to her sides. She doesn't want to fight anymore, and neither do I.
I brush my fingers over her soft, sensitive skin, stroking her arm, going higher, to her shoulder, and then her neck and collarbone.
Her skin breaks out in goosebumps.
She's so sensitive, so responsive. She shudders from my slightest touch.
I look down at her body. She's wearing a dark gray silk dress, so thin that I can see her puckered nipples pointing at me under the fabric. The straps of the dress leave no doubt she's not wearing a bra.
"Fuck," I swear, unable to hold back my emotions as I press my forehead to hers. "What are we doing?"
I don't want to hear the answer. I want her to stop me, to push me away, to tell me she doesn't want this.
But instead, she keeps silent. I place one of my hands on her waist, stroking my thumb over her belly, and she bites her lower lip. Full, rosy, sweet, so ready to be tasted—that's how attractive those lips are as I stare at them.
I brush her lower lip with my thumb to make her stop biting it because I can't take it anymore. I want to kiss her; I want to bite that lip exactly the way she does it.
There are reasons why I never kiss on the mouth: it's too intimate, too personal, too dangerous. Sex is about getting a release, while a kiss is about giving a part of yourself to another person.
No matter what people think, kissing on the mouth is way more honest than sex.
And I swear that I've never wanted anything in my life more than I want to kiss Savannah Jones.
She parts her lips, sticks out her tongue, and licks my thumb with it lightly, barely touching it. My body tenses so much I swear I’m about to have a heart attack.
And then she wraps her full rosy lips around the tip of my finger and swallows it into her mouth.
And that's when I realize that I'm lost.
Chapter Ten
Savannah
I don't know what I'm doing. My body is shaking, and my legs are weak, but I am more aroused than I've ever been before in my life.
I swallow the tip of Daniel's thumb in my throat, and I feel his hand squeeze my waist harder in response.
He pulls his finger out, and I moan, displeased, offended he did it because I’ve barely even started teasing him.
"I don't do relationships, Savannah," he whispers into my mouth. His forehead is pressed to mine, and his stiff muscled chest brushes against my swollen nipples. "I don't do commitments. It's gonna be a one-night-only offer, and you can't stay afterward."
