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From the outside, this looks entirely innocent. All our clothes are on. We’re not touching anywhere except our laps. But nothing feels innocent about the sensations swirling inside me—the excitement and the arousal. They overwhelm me, adding to the thrill I always get around him. The inner giddiness is amplified to a degree that threatens to drown me, that overrides every instinct except one.
His erection thickens and hardens as I grind against it, chasing the bolts of pleasure that keep appearing when I nudge against him just right. His body is responding, but Holden hasn’t moved. He’s leaning back on one palm, blue eyes fixed on me straddling him.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. He’s drunk and experienced, and I’m neither of those things. The only guy I’ve kissed, much less humped in a dark driveway, is him.
A warm palm slides beneath the hem of my borrowed sweatshirt. His sweatshirt, technically. If he registers that detail, he doesn’t comment on it.
Holden’s hand slides higher and higher, over the curve of my ribs until it reaches the swell of my breast. He cups it and squeezes gently, taking advantage of the fact I’m not wearing a bra.
I moan, biting on my bottom lip to try to contain it. I wasn’t expecting his touch to feel so good. I imagine his mouth and his tongue replacing the warmth of his hand, and heat creeps across my skin.
His eyes flare at the sound.
I’m disappointed when his palm slides back to my waist. His other hand does the same, so he’s gripping my hips and guiding my movements. Immediately, the pleasure intensifies. I drop my head into the curve of his neck, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and cinnamon.
There’s a hint of weed too.
I try not to focus on that, choosing to ignore the reminder he’s been out tonight doing who knows what with who knows who. I focus on him, which is easy to do.Tooeasy to do. Especially now, when we’re doing things I’ve only fantasized about ever happening.
Our movements fall into a deceptive rhythm. Turn into a familiarity I thought was broken between us a long time ago. I can feel him—hard and thick and hot—between my thighs, and it fans the flames lighting between us.
Me.
He’s reacting this way tome.
I feel the pleasure building inside of me. My hips move faster, chasing the high that’s rapidly approaching. It explodes inside of me in a rush of euphoria, a thousand times more powerful than when I touch myself. I feel wetness soak my underwear as I muffle my moans in Holden’s sweatshirt. He jerks beneath me, finding his own release.
We’re both breathing heavily. Harsh, ragged inhales and exhales are the only sounds filling the still night air. My body feels loose and languid. Relaxed. I don’t want to move. I want to sink into this moment, the way you snuggle beneath a blanket on the couch.
Anticipation of what awkwardness could be coming propels me into action.
Holden is still holding my hips, but his grip has loosened. His hands fall as I pull away from him and stand up. He’s watching me move away while wearing an unreadable expression. There’sno sign of pleasure or satisfaction on his face, even though I felt him come.
And rather than ask if that meant anything, ifImean anything to him, I turn around and walk away. Non-confrontational, nice Cassia doesn’t demand answers.
Also, I’m embarrassed.Iinitiated things.Icrawled into his lap and got myself off. Do guys turn girls down in that position? Especially when they’re drunk?
I close my eyes to the reality of what just took place, only opening them when I reach the front door. I fumble with the handle, eager to get inside quickly on the off chance Holden is coming after me and wants to discuss what happened.
It’s unlikely, considering he’s made a habit of ignoring me most of the time. But I know for sure he won’t barge into his sister’s bedroom for answers.
There are no footsteps behind me as I yank off the hoodie with shaky fingers and hang it back on the hook. I don’t want to wake up wearing a reminder of tonight.
Silently, I creep up the stairs and slip into Sydney’s bedroom. She’s fast asleep, like always. Hair fanned across her pillow and a peaceful expression on her face.
For a moment, I wish she wasn’t Holden’s sister. That I could wake her up and tell the closest friend I have what just happened between me and the only boy who’s ever given me butterflies. The guy I’ve had a crush on since before I could identify what one was.
Instead, I crawl onto the air mattress and try to fall asleep.
It meant nothing, I tell myself.
Lieto myself.
CHAPTER SIX
HOLDEN
Ishould have kissed her.
