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That was how it felt with Trenton, a joining. He didn’t seem like he was ten steps ahead of her and already thinking of the finish. His body rested against the couch, letting her weight pin him as she pressed closer. Her hands slid around his neck, stroking the back of it, where his hair ended. He made a sound in his throat, an enticing hum that sent a surprising throb through her.
Seeking the feeling, she stroked his neck again even as her tongue slid against his, liking the way he kissed but also somehow restless.
He hitched her closer, his hands urging her hips tight against him as her legs parted to either side of him. Her body liked the position, arching against the hardness she’d found, and he groaned into her mouth. His angle tilted, the kiss deepening.
Trenton was holding her. It was Trenton kissing her. And all because of her lie.
The thought sent a chill to chase away all that warmth. She hadn’t really lied; she’d just focused on what felt easier. She was lousy in bed. That was so much easier to tell him than that she was crazy.
Trenton tilted her until her back fell against the couch, his mouth parting from hers as he hovered above her. Her thoughts had made her stiffen against him, she realized, and regret spilled in to add to her chill.
His hand cupped her cheek as it had before. “We don’t have to take this any further if you don’t want to, Celia.”
She liked the way he said her name with that huskiness from their kiss. His lips were right in front of her, and she lifted herself up, brushing hers against them, enjoying the combination of firm and soft together.
His fingers slid along her face, sending a shiver through her as their lips parted again. No one had touched her that softly. It was almost as if he was worried she’d break. “I want you, too,” she told him.
He didn’t lunge for her as any other guy would. Instead, his fingers lingered against her face, brushing back her hair. A strange squirming started in her belly at the way he studied her.
“Then why do you look the way you do?” he asked, his gaze not moving away as his hands continued to soothe her.
The tension in her worsened. “How do I look?”
“As if you’re terrified.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek instead of her mouth. When he pulled back enough for their eyes to meet again, his were searching hers. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not you.” She was scared of him seeing the true her, the one she hid from everyone, but she clung to the more obvious. “I’m really no good at this, like I said. What if I mess it up?”
A relieved smile slid over Trenton’s face. He looked best when he smiled. “That’s not possible.”
Her lips tightened as flashes of all her messed-up attempts at sex flew through her mind. “Oh, it is.”
It was his turn to shake his head. “If it starts to feel wrong, it’s just not meant to be. That’s no one’s fault.”
The man was way too sweet. She wanted to hug him close and let that warmth of his seep inside her.
Trenton’s eyes slid to her mouth. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, meeting him halfway.
Celia had never understood the kissing thing before. It had been pleasant enough in the past, at times anyway, but it had never been something to make a fuss about. Trenton’s lips were different. They were hard against hers, but also soft, as if soothing her. When he slid his tongue against hers, she wrapped her hands around his neck again and held on as an ache began down below. He settled some of his weight on her, his hips lining up with her still spread legs, and the ache intensified. A moan slipped from her and into his mouth.
Trenton groaned back, deepening the kiss. She felt like she should be doing something, but all thoughts slipped into the warmth that was filling her. Her hands moved over his shoulders, then down his sides, until they settled on his ass, which was still covered by the black work slacks he wore even on a Sunday. Gripping him for leverage, she pulled him tighter to her as she arched closer. His hardness through their clothes slid against her, but instead of easing the ache, a frustration built. Her head fell back as her legs wrapped around him. This time his hips shifted into her on their own, rubbing the same spot, but not enough, not nearly enough. Another moan slid from her.
Trenton closed his eyes, a long swallow making his Adam’s apple bob just above her. She leaned toward his neck, her lips caressing him there, with the tip of her tongue nudging the ball.
He shuddered against her, his hips pressing her harder into the couch, lined up perfectly to make her squirm.
“Celia, wait,” he gasped. Then his hands locked with hers, shifting them away from his body until they were above her head.
The posture made her breasts press more firmly against his chest and she shimmied, rubbing the tightened nipples against him. She closed her eyes, panting through the pleasant pressure before doing it again.
He jerked away from her, sitting up. The abrupt movement released her hands and jostled her on the couch. She opened her eyes in time to watch him finish pulling his shirt over his head and toss it aside. He reached for her own then. As he tugged it up, her torso lifted, helping him remove it. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath it. She so rarely needed to. Her already hardened nipples tightened even more from the air brushing them.
“Beautiful,” he murmured before lowering his head to her. His tongue laved one of her nipples before those soft yet hard lips surrounded it and tugged. An answering tug below had her hips lifting, but his hardness was no longer close enough to feel.
“Trenton,” she called, her hips arching again.
As if he thought she was protesting the one-sided breast worship, his hand moved to the other, the tips of his fingers swirling and bringing more pleasure. Then he pinched and her head shifted against the couch as another moan escaped her.
