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I claim her mouth again, this time hungrier, more demanding. I tilt her head back and slant my mouth over hers, deepening the kiss until no area remains untouched. My hand cradles her skull, holding her in place. She feels so soft and fragile beneath me. One confession lingers between us, but I haven’t had the chance to ask her to clarify.
You’re the first man who’s ever touched me like that.
Christ.
Is she still a virgin? If she is, I don’t want to rush this moment for her. But I’m slowly losing the will to hold back.
My mouth leaves hers, trailing down her neck to the long strip of flesh exposed by her blouse. I unhook another button, and her bra is already visible beneath.
“I need you to tell me something, Aly,” I say, pressing a kiss between her breasts.
“Anything.” The faint trembling of her body reverberates through her voice.
“Is this your first time?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her body stills, and I raise my gaze back up to meet her. Her teeth close over her lower lip. She’s contemplating whether to tell me, whether it will matter. Finally, she nods.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Wait for what? I’ve waited long enough. No one has ever made me want to do this before.”
Another stroke to the ego, and my cock throbs for release. I’m the only one to make her like this? I’m the only one she’s wanted to be with? I’m the first person who’ll ever make love to Aly McKenzie.
And if I have it my way, I’ll also be the last.
“I’m ready.” Her fingers reach out and clench my shirt. They quickly work the buttons apart from their holes before pulling the shirt down my arms. “You’re the one I want this with. Make love to me, Zach. Please, don’t let me wait any longer.”
A low grumble emerges. She knows absolutely all the right words to say, everything to make me lose my good sense in an instant. My hands curve around her bottom. I tug her to the end of the table and move one hand beneath her skirt. My fingers graze the inside of her thigh, and she twitches in a delicious jolt of anticipation.
The smoothness of her legs gives way to the hot, slick center of her pussy. Damn. She’s already wet for me. I slide one finger inside her, pressing down into her core, pleasuring her with slow, languid movements. She’s so tight around me, my erection immediately reacts. Immediately, it wants to be there, encased in the glorious space between her thighs.
Soft whimpers escape her throat. Her hips move against my hand, pushing me deeper inside her. I press another finger against her, and she jolts forward, resting her head on my shoulder. She’s almost past the breaking point, ready to shatter beneath my touch all over again. Her body clenches around my hand, and I feel the crest of her orgasm as she comes apart beneath me. My rhythm slows, waiting for the final streams of pleasure to move through her before removing my touch.
She looks so beautiful.
Her pale-blue eyes stare back at me beneath a half-lidded gaze. Making love was never like this. This is nothing short of magic. My pulse trips, forgetting its role to enjoy one moment of weakness. Am I in love with Aly? Is that why I can’t stay away? There’s only one remedy for an affliction like that, and I’m not sure I’m ready to accept it yet.
I lean my lips against her ear. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”
A deep throaty laugh pushes past her lips. “I know. I can’t really wear it with this skirt.”
“Well, it made things a lot easier,” I say, my hands moving to release the last remaining buttons on her shirt.
“Let me touch you,” she says, panting. Her hands reach for the top button of my pants. “I want to feel you.”
I move out of her grasp. Because if I let her touch me now, it’ll be all over. “You will, soon enough.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Please, I want to make you feel this way.”
I hold her stare.
That same impenetrable shield of resistance rises behind her gaze, and I know there is no possibility of convincing her otherwise. I nod and help her remove my pants and boxer briefs.
My erection springs forward. Her small, delicate fingers close around me, and I grip the end of the desk for support. I’m in trouble. Not the small kind of trouble where I’ll acknowledge this was a mistake in the morning and move on. I’m talking the full-on married-in-Vegas-after-a-wild-night kind of trouble.
The kind of trouble that changes you forever.
Forever. With Aly.
