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My belly quivers deliciously and my knees go weak. There’s a tingling heat between my legs as my body begins to throb and ache. This is all new territory for me, and it’s thrilling. I want this. I wanthim.
His hand slips around to the back of my head, and he cradles it in his palm. He’s holding me to him, his touch protective, just like I knew it would be.
He breaks our kiss. “I’m trying so hard to be careful and do the right thing.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want careful. I wantnormal. What would you do with me if I was just some girl you met at a bar and brought home with you?”
He laughs. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“Why not? Because that’s what I want.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“About you? Aboutus? Yes, I’m sure.”
“Once we do this, it’ll change everything.”
I laugh nervously. “I certainly hope so.”
He grins at me. “I just meant it’ll complicate our relationship.”
I grab hold of his T-shirt. “I’m sure.”
Without warning, he swings me up into his arms and carries me out of the kitchen and down the hallway into his bedroom. My head is spinning as he sets me on my feet beside his bed. My nerves are spiraling.
He stares down at me, his expression tense. “At any time, if you want to stop, just say so.” His voice has grown rougher, deeper, and I can tell he’s as affected as I am.
I nod.
His brow furrows. “You’re not on the pill, are you?”
“I’m not. Because of my psych meds, I can’t take regular birth control pills. I’d have to use something else, something nonhormonal. And since I’ve never been sexually active, it just didn’t seem important. Until now, that is.”
He nods. “Condoms are nonhormonal.”
Reality is starting to sink in, and my stomach drops. We’re going to take our clothes off, and that means…oh, crap. He’ll see my insulin pump and my glucose monitor.
He tips my chin up. “What’s wrong?”
I lay my hands on my top, right over the devices attached to my body, one on each side of my belly button. “My pump.”
“Hey.” He sits on the side of the bed and pulls me forward to stand in front of him. “You have absolutely nothing to be concerned about. Your pump and monitor are part of you. We’ll be careful, I promise. But trust me, I’m going to be staring atyou, not at your pod. I have a confession to make. I read up on precautions to take with type 1 diabetics during sex so there wouldn’t be any surprises. I know your glucose level will probably drop, so we’ll keep some apple juice boxes by the bed. It’ll be okay.”
Jason leans forward and kisses my belly right through my top.
I look away, embarrassed. “I’m sure you’ve never dated a girl who had to stop and check her blood sugar level when you’re about to have sex.”
“I never dated a girl who meant as much to me as you do.” He links our fingers together. “Diabetes is part of your life, Layla, and that makes it part of mine.” He lays his phone on the nightstand. “The monitor will alert us if there’s a problem. So, for now, we won’t worry about it.”
He remains seated on the bed, and for a change, I’m towering over him. I think he’s doing it on purpose, to give me a sense of control. But the truth is, I feel out of control and very self-conscious.
He captures my hands and brings them to his mouth to kiss. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never undressed in front of someone before. It’s a bit nerve-racking.”
“You’re not the only one who’s nervous here.” He holds one of his hands out to show me it’s shaking.
I laugh. “You arenotnervous. I don’t believe that for a second. This isn’t your first time.”
