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TWENTY-NINE
SOPHIA
Air leaves my lungs in a surprised gust as Will lifts me and tosses me onto the mattress like I weigh nothing. I wiggle on the soft fabric of my comforter, trying to get comfortable and also find a position that seems alluring. Nerves are pinballing inside of me. I want this. I’ve wanted this. But I wasn’t sure when he’d finally say yes. Will is treating this like a big step, which is making me even more aware that this is my first time.
Which is not a bad thing, I don’t think, but it’s definitely a noticeable one that’s not helping with my mounting anxiety.
“You little liar,” Will says.
I glance over.
He’s staring at the table next to my bed. “You kept it.”
It’s not a question, so I don’t answer.
He picks up the slip of paper and waves it toward me. “You said you lost this.”
I smirk. “Well, then I found it again.”
I’m lying, and I’m sure he knows that. But I’m vulnerable enough right now, my bare body entirely on display to him as I lie here waiting for him to join me in bed. About to have sex for the first time. Maybe I’ll eventually tell him I’ve memorized every crease, letter, and number on that ticket. That I’ve kept careful track of it ever since he handed it to me. But I’m not admitting any of that right now. Or sharing that I’ve hidden the ticket in the pages of a book every other time he’s come over to avoid this exact conversation.
“Section 336. Row E. Seat 4,” he reads.
“Lots of better seats available…”
His laugh is low and throaty before he sets the ticket down, then climbs onto the bed. “No, there weren’t. You weren’t in any of them.”
“That would be sweeter if I hadn’t actually been sitting in your seat,” I say, rolling into him.
Our legs tangle together naturally. This isn’t the first time we’ve lain together like this. But my heart is beating rapidly, giving away the fact that this isn’t going to be like those other times.
Will’s fingers weave into my hair, tugging at the strands gently as he sifts through them. “I’m glad you texted me.”
“Me too.” I drag my hand down his chest until I reach bare skin, skimming my fingers along one of his hip bones before finding and fisting the heavy weight of his cock.
Will sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers no longer moving. “Since I got here, I’ve been trying to be smarter, be better, to do the right thing. Not just for me—for you. When you said it was your decision…it is. I’ve resented the hell out of anyone who tried to tell me what to do my whole life. And I never want you to feel that way. That I don’t trust you or don’t believe in you. I don’t trust me. Don’t believe in me. I want you, Sophia. I want you so fucking bad.”
I shift so I’m fully on top of him, keeping my hold on his erection and guiding it between my legs. “You have me.”
I’ve never felt this way around anyone before, like he controls my heartbeat. There’s a permanent section of my brain that’s stuck on thinking about him, regardless of whether we’re together or apart. A giddy rush whenever he looks at me that shares the same weightless sensation with falling.
Will studies me, and I stare back.
It’s, without a doubt, the most intense moment we’ve ever shared.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. And I’m blushing. I can feel my cheeks radiating heat in response to his close inspection of my face.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re sure. But if anything changes, if it hurts or something just…doesn’t feel right, promise you’ll tell me.”
All of a sudden, I’m certain. The nerves fade, torched into nothingness by burning need.
I’m so, so certain. I can remember the cocky arrogance Will was cloaked with during our first meeting perfectly. That indifferent player, slouched and scowling, is not the guy you look at and think, Perfect candidate to take my virginity. Maybe when it comes to experience, but not tenderness. He’s the guy who leaves as soon as he comes, who acts like your hymen is an inconvenience. That’s the kind of guy Will seems like he is. But he’s not. He’s so much more.
He’s all I want and everything I need.
“I promise.”
Will nods, then repositions us so that I’m the one on my back beneath him. He strips off his shirt before crawling over me. Slowly, putting on a show of rippling muscles that I don’t even think is deliberate. I slide my hands down the front of his chest, over his shoulders, and down his bunched biceps, feeling his muscles tense as he reacts to my touch.
