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All I can manage is a head shake in response. I’m adrift in a sea of sensation, savoring the feel of him touching me. Above me. There’s a pulsing throb between my legs.
I shift my hips, searching.
He smiles against my skin, lips light and teasing. “You want to come, Cassia?”
“Yes.” The word is a breath.
I’m expecting him to move his leg so I can rub against it. Maybe use his fingers. When he sits up and moves back, I rise up on my elbows. “What are you—”
“Lie back.”
I hesitate before listening, rolling my head to the side so I can watch him. He tugs my sleep shorts down, leaving me in my underwear. They’re boring and blue, not what I would have chosen to wear if I’d had any idea he’d see them.
Holden smirks as his hand moves from my hip and between my thighs. I realize why when he traces the strip of fabric.
I’m soaked. There’s no way to hide how affected I am.
His amusement disappears when I undulate my hips, trying to chase some stimulation from his fingers. They fist around the blue fabric, and then it’s jerked away. All of a sudden, I’m basically naked. My pajamas and underwear are on the floor and my shirt is up around my shoulders.
“Holden…” I’m not as embarrassed as I thought I would be, spread out under him like this.
There’s a part of me that feels powerful, watching his gaze darken to navy as his eyes linger on all the bare skin beneath him.
But I feel vulnerable too. He’s fully dressed and I’m on display.
And I have no idea what he’s thinking. How far he wants to take this. Based on his comment earlier, he believed me about being more experienced than I actually am. About last weekend being a regular night for me. If he’d bothered to pay any attention to my stark lack of a social life, the idea is laughable.
“Fuck, Cassia. Just…fuck.” His mouth lands on my inner thigh, and I figure out what he’s planning to do. Anticipation and excitement streak through me, followed by the fizzle of nerves.
“No one has ever…”
I regret the admission as soon as it leaves my lips. That’s the problem with lying. It’s a web that spirals and expands, drawing you in and then twisting around you. It snags the truth and complicates it.
Holden’s expression softens, his fingers tracing the curve of my hipbone. “Let me make you feel good.”
I nod and wriggle, craving his touch as much as it intimidates me. I’m not sure how people do this with strangers. I’ve never been more aware of the years of shared history between me and him. The fact he raced me on the monkey bars and used to watch movies with me after Sydney fell asleep. He’s also the only guy I’ve ever fantasized about, the face I picture when I touch myself where his mouth is heading now.
When his tongue swipes my clit, it feels like a bolt of electricity. It’s a thousand times more powerful than my own fingers. A hundred times stronger than rubbing against him with two layers of fabric between us. It’s pleasure like I’ve never experienced, so potent and hot it wipes away any uncertainty instantly. I bite the inside of my cheek and dig my fingers intothe couch to keep from crying out and possibly waking Sydney upstairs.
My legs fall open as wide as possible, allowing him full access. My hips lift, begging for his tongue. I’ll never, ever forget the way he looks right now. Hungry and focused—on me.
“Take off your shirt.” I barely recognize the rasp of my own voice. It sounds hoarse and needy. Desperate.
Holden sits up, lips glossy. He unbuttons the flannel slowly, teasingly. I hook my knee over the back of the couch and bite my bottom lip, teasing him right back.
His white t-shirt disappears much more quickly, and then he’s back between my legs. This time, I can see the powerful bunch of his shoulders. The bulge of his bicep, as he grips my thigh.
An orgasm hits me suddenly, with the force of a tsunami. I can’t contain the moan that escapes as a hot flush works its way across my entire body, accompanying the pleasure rushing through my system. It goes on and on, wringing me out until I slump against the cushions, limbs loose and limp.
I’m not tired, though. And I’m very much aware of Holden on the other end of the couch, running a hand through his hair as he watches me with a satisfied smile. If he had any doubts about the fact I’m insanely attracted to him, I don’t think he does any longer.
I sit up slowly, enjoying the lingering buzz humming through my body. Holden looks like a fantasy, leaning back with his legs spread, wearing just a pair of sweatpants. My shirt falls down as I move toward him, the brush of cotton against my sensitized skin impossible not to notice.
Holden’s eyes turn hooded as my fingers trace the ridged muscles that cover his abdomen.
He says nothing. Doesn’t guide my movements or tell me what to do. He just lets me explore the impressive topographyof his chest, running my fingers over the hot skin. The only hair is a small patch just below his belly button. After I’ve traced the V that points between his legs, my hand ends up there. I swallow, then move lower, dipping beneath the elastic hem of his sweatpants.
“You don’t have to.”
