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Ask most of Pembrooke High, and Cassia Nolan wouldn’t be considered bold or brazen. But right now, she’s both. One knee lands on the bed, then the other. She takes a seat in my lap, directly on top of my hardening dick.
It’s the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen. Maybe—probably—because it’sher. Cassia’s hair hasn’t dried in its usual curls yet. It’s dark and wild, falling over her pale shoulders in messy waves. The white towel hugs the very top of her breasts, teasing at the cleavage beneath. Her legs are on full display, parted and pulling the towel up to the top of her thighs.
“What are you doing, flower?” I don’t mean for the endearment to come out, but it falls out of my mouth anyway.
Somehow, it adds to the anticipation. It’s an acknowledgment. I can’t treat Cassia with any of the separation I should. I can’t pretend she’s just another girl in a bedroom.
Rather than answer the question, she shifts. The towel pools around her waist, and her tits are right in my face. I’m sure she can feel how hard I am. How much I want this and how desperate I am to be inside of her. To be theonlyguy that’s been inside of her.
I’ve never slept with a virgin before. In the past, it’s been an unpalatable option. Extra work with added potential for a messy separation, which I know makes me sound like a dick. I know it’s a big deal to some girls, and it’s never been something I’ve felt equipped to handle.
Sex is a physical release for me the same way fighting is. I don’t attach any emotion to the act itself, I just enjoy the resulting adrenaline and endorphins.
But the thought of being the first guy that Cassia will be with? There’s something primal about it. Incendiary. It heats my blood and makes my cock so hard it’s painful. Destroys the indifference that’s usually unshakeable.
I grip the towel that’s the only barrier blocking her body, warring with myself. She shouldn’t be offering this. Because I’m selfish enough to take it.
Years. I’ve spentyearstrying to resist this pull between us. We landed here anyway.
“Are you sure?”
This time, she answers. “Yes.”
I scan her face. Features I know better than my own. I turned on the overhead light when we came in here. I wasn’t trying to set any sort of romantic atmosphere. Its bright glare reveals everything. I can see everything, from the green swirl in her hazel eyes to the freckle just below her jawline. The small scar just below the dip of her chin from falling off the monkey bars in sixth grade. The generous swell of the breasts I’ve jerked off to way too many times.
“Areyou?” she asks. Her confident façade falters, insecurity saturating the two words. She’s not sure if I want this—want her. It’s a misconception I’m suddenly desperate to correct.
And that’s all it takes. The battle inside me ends. There’s a chance this was always inevitable between us. In some ways, capitulating feels like another failure on my part. But the sense of victory—of relief—is much stronger.
I don’t believe in destiny or fate. I’m not even sure if I believe in love. The romantic sort, at least. The kind where youchooseto love someone without the link of any obligation.
But there’s something that feels right, feels settled, about Cassia being naked in my lap. I fall into the pull, yanking the towel away and looking my fill. She lets me stare, holding my gaze every time it flickers back to her face.
I pull my sweatshirt off and shift so she’s more on the bed than my lap. Kick off my sweatpants and boxers, leaving me as naked as she is. I consider turning off the lights but don’t.
I like this—like seeing her. It’s such a contrast from every other time I’ve had sex, there’s no comparison.
Cassia bites her bottom lip as I lie down beside her. There aren’t words that explain how this feels. Some combination of confusion and euphoria. Her hair is a dark tangle spread out on the sheets. She rolls on her side, facing me.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“I know.”
She’s looking to me to take the lead, but it feels like I’ve never done this before either. It’s never felt like this before with anyone else.
Her body moves closer to mine, until our bare skin is brushing. “I want to, Holden. I want you to fuck me.”
Some of my confidence makes a sudden return. I don’t know what it is about Cassia that disarms me so thoroughly. But I know those aren’t words she could have uttered easily. She’s putting herself out there—for me. Trying to entice me, as if I need any encouragement.
I reach out and brush some hair away from her face. “I’m going to, baby.”
Her body stiffens. I still, just as surprised. I’ve never—not once—called anyone by that pet name. Based on the uncertainty that flashes across her face, Cassia doesn’t think that’s the case.
I roll above her, searching for any hint of reservation. There’s none. I lean over, fumbling for the condom Jordan left on the bedside table.
He brought a box and passed them out when a bunch of the guys were hanging out in here last night. I left the one I rejected yesterday by the hotel phone.
I don’t ask her again, but I give Cassia a minute to watch me. A chance to change her mind, if she wants to.
