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“If I find a pair of binoculars in this room, I’m going to freak out,” I threaten him with a smile, marching over to the window and studying my little house. The massive garden and my rose bushes, their branches waving in the breeze as usual. It’s getting cooler at night and the new buds aren’t popping up near as often as they used to.
Soon, there won’t be any flowers at all.
“There aren’t any binoculars in here,” he reassures me. I can feel him approach me from behind, the heat from his body suddenly right there, seeping into me, and I suck in a soft breath when he wraps his arms around my waist from behind. “Besides, I don’t need to spy on you anymore when I’ve got the real deal right here in my room. In my arms.”
He kisses my neck, his lips warm and persistent and I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access, resting my hands on top of his. I know why he brought me back here. Why he wanted us to be alone.
I want the same thing. I’m not scared anymore about it. It’s all I thought about over the weekend, and I wonder if he did the same.
“Did you miss me?” I ask, immediately hating how needy I sound.
“Yes,” he breathes against my neck, his hands wandering, sliding toward the front of my shirt, his fingers already undoing the buttons. “All I could think about was what we were doing before we were—interrupted.”
By my father, I think, shoving all thoughts of him right out of my brain. I don’t want to think about that moment. Not now.
For once in my life, my father’s opinion doesn’t matter to me.
This is my life, not his.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it either,” I admit, tilting my head down and giving Arch the room to push my hair away from the back of my neck.
“I like that you’re wearing your hair down more often,” he murmurs against my skin, making me shiver.
“I’m tired of the braids,” I admit.
His hands settle on my hips, slowly turning me so I’m facing him and when I look up, the warm glow in his eyes makes me momentarily breathless. “I like them.” He curls his fingers around the ends of my hair, giving it a tug. “I miss pulling them.”
A soft laugh leaves me and before I can respond, he’s kissing me. Pushing me gently so my back hits the wall, his busy mouth never straying, his tongue tangling with mine. I slide my hands up the solid wall of his chest, curling my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair. Clinging to him.
Silently hoping he never, ever lets me go.
We’re quiet, too wrapped up in each other’s mouths, his hands wandering to dangerous places. Places he’s touched before, stroked before, kissed before. I go easily when his hands dip beneath my skirt and wrap around my butt, lifting. I wrap my legs around his hips, marveling at his strength when he carries me over to his bed and drops me onto the center of the mattress, where I land with a bounce.
There’s no opportunity to give him any grief for dropping me though. The next thing I know he’s crawling on top of the bed, on top of me, his mouth finding mine once more as he settles his weight more firmly on me. I welcome it, reveling in the sensation of his hot, solid body pressing against mine. He’s hard where I’m soft, and it’s like we just…fit. Two pieces of a puzzle coming together, clicking into place.
It's like this for long minutes, his hips rocking against mine, his erection nudging a certain spot that increases my heart rate and makes my blood run hotter. I eventually get his shirt unbuttoned, my hands roaming across his chest, fingers tracing across his pecs, smiling when I feel him shiver.
He shifts down, his mouth raining kisses across my chest before he moves lower, licking my stomach, his hands beneath my skirt, fingers curled around the sides of my panties. I wait, breathless, a gasp leaving me when he flips my skirt up, his lips blazing a trail across the waistband, coming closer and closer where I feel the neediest.
Oh God, if he goes down on me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can only imagine how good it will feel, and when he places his hands on the inside of my thighs and spreads them wider, I know what’s coming.
Swallowing hard, I close my eyes, waiting. All of my focus on that one spot. He runs his fingers just along the inside of my underwear, brushing against my sensitive skin and I hiss in a breath. Waiting.
Waiting.
He tugs the cotton aside, pausing for a bit, and I lie there in tense anticipation, waiting to feel his mouth on me down there for the first time.
But he doesn’t do it. It’s like he’s come to a complete stop and I crack open my eyes to find he’s watching me. My face.
The moment our gazes connect, he smiles, the sight of it making my heart tumble over itself. “Don’t want you to forget who’s about to do this to you for the first time.”
“How could I forget?” I ask, my voice weak. This boy…
“Didn’t want you thinking it was one of your fictional book boyfriends.” He dips his head and before I can say a single thing, he’s pressing his tongue against my clit.
And like the greedy person I am, I’m lifting my hips, practically smashing myself against his face, seeking more.
More, more, more.
