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He rose from the couch and strode to the nightstand that was on the side of the bed he preferred, judging by the alarm clock and charging cord on top. The vibrator was plunked down there, and then he went to the dresser and retrieved his drink.
“Tell me how you want it,” he said, turning to face me and leaning against the dresser.
This question gave me the same feeling as cutting into a steak I was sure was medium-rare, only to discover it was over-done. “What?”
“What are you hoping for?” He took a sip of his drink as he studied me. “Candles and romantic music? You said you always imagined your first time would be with me. What was it like?”
My mind went blank. “Uh . . .” I’d had fantasies of us together, but in them he was always my boyfriend, and we were in love—so what I wanted wasn’t possible. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain.” I leaned over, snatched up my cup from where he’d set it down, and drank a big gulp, stalling. “I guess I want it however you want it.”
He shot me a serious look. “You are not ready for the way I want it.”
I sat up straighter and did my best to sound confident. “Maybe I’d surprise you.”
His laugh was soft. “You probably would, but I think we’ll save that for another lesson.” He ticked his head toward the cup in my hand. “Finish your drink so I can get you naked.”
My breath caught.
His command set me on fire, and while I drank the last of my rum and Coke, lightning buzzed through my system. It was finally happening. The good girl was going to do something very, very bad, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
FOURTEEN
Sydney
Preston finished his drink, straightened away from the dresser, and his gaze was locked on me as he strolled forward. Once again, he took my cup from my grasp and set it aside, and then offered a hand to help me up.
If he noticed I was shaking, he didn’t say anything. The moment I was on my feet, his mouth was on mine, and everything else faded away. It was burned up in the heat of his kiss because the connection to him created an inferno inside me.
It barely registered that his fingers were at the bottom of my shirt and tugging it upward. It wasn’t until cool air wafted across the bare skin of my stomach that I realized what he was doing. We had to break the kiss and part for only a moment as he dragged the fabric up over my head and dropped it to the carpet with an almost inaudible thump.
As soon as it was done, his lips captured mine again and his hands went to work on the snap of my shorts. It was stunning how quickly he moved, and yet a part inside me whined for him to move faster.
My knees were already weak, but when he unzipped my shorts and shoved them down over my hips, my legs went boneless. I melted into his arms, falling into his all-consuming kiss.
He’d seen me topless before, and he’d seen beneath my skirt when I wasn’t wearing any underwear, but this . . . it felt so different. Much more real. And I wasn’t even naked yet.
I wore my matching bra and panty set I’d picked out for tonight. The cotton fabric was a simple white, trimmed with lace at the edges, and sprinkled with pairs of tiny pink roses printed on the fabric. It was so girly.
And innocent.
Preston’s kiss ended and he glanced down, letting out a choked-off sound of surprise as he stepped back. He gazed at my body packaged in the feminine lingerie like he both loved and hated it.
The set wasn’t overtly provocative. No mesh, or low-cut cups, and it certainly wasn’t a thong. If anything, the lingerie bordered on childish, but . . . shit. I thought it was sexy in a different kind of way.
Maybe even a little wrong or taboo.
The longer he stared at me, the closer I came to bursting into flames.
“Look at you.” His voice was full of gravel. “Did you wear this for me? It’s so . . .” he drew out my anticipation, “virginal.”
I exhaled loudly and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together because I was coming unglued. When I was in his arms, I felt brave, but with the distance between us, it made room for my shyness to move in and take over.
“You’re so hot, and you don’t even know it.” He wiped a hand over his mouth, like he wanted to say more, but needed to stop himself—except it came out anyway. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
His compliments, paired with his intense stare, made me burn hotter, and my knees threatened to buckle. He sounded so genuine, but my mind immediately went into safety mode and refused to accept it.
He was just saying it to be nice—it couldn’t be true.
I held my arms tighter across my scantily clad body, and tension pinched my shoulders together.
