I run my hand over it, feeling his heart thump aggressively under my palm. When my eyes move back to his, I swear I can see the pain swimming in his deep blues, and I want to take it all away. “Kiss me,” I whisper.
His lips meet mine without hesitation, and my mouth opens instantly, welcoming his tongue.
We’ve spent so much time kissing that we’ve perfected it already. Our tongues battle for dominance, but of course, he always wins. He sucks mine into his mouth and I latch onto his hair, knocking his hat off in the process. He drags kisses across my jaw and down my neck. My back arches. I need more.
When his lips hover over my mouth again, I flick my tongue out, swiping his lip ring. His eyes widen slightly, his chest heaving.
“Do it again,” he commands, and heat soars through me at his tone.
I rub my tongue slowly across the small metal hoop, then I do it again, this time pulling his bottom lip between my teeth, sucking and nibbling. He groans, deep and throaty, the sound vibrating between my thighs.
Then he rips away from me.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, taking several steps away from me, adjusting his jeans. “Is pizza okay? Or do you want something else?”
“I…uh, s-sure,” I stammer, trying to compose myself. Did I do something wrong? I sit up slowly, my heart pounding in my throat.
He helps me from the bed and I follow him to the living room. I drop onto his couch, still trying to catch my breath as my mind whirls with questions.
He takes out his phone to order food and turns on Netflix. He’s searching through the app, and I vaguely hear him ask me something, but my mind is muddled. I was sure that kiss wasleading somewhere. Did he not like the lip nibbling? I thought that was a good sound he made.
“Olivia?” Penn stares at me, his brows pinched tightly.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said what do you want to watch? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, I’m fine. We can watch whatever.” I force a smile, but he sets the remote down, grabs my thighs, and yanks me closer to him.
“Talk to me.”
I chew on my cheek, embarrassed to bring it up, but he doesn’t let me off the hook.
“What’s going on in that pretty head, Barbie?” His voice is gentle, giving me courage.
“Did I do something wrong? Something you didn’t like?”
He jolts. “What? Fuck, no, I love kissing you.”
My eyes fall to my lap. “You pulled away so fast. I?—”
His finger lifts my chin, forcing my head up. “I’m trying to respect your boundaries. We can take this as slow as you want, okay? I don’t mind waiting, but I can only take so much before I’m physically in pain.”
Ohh.
“There’s a reason you set those boundaries, right?”
My face grows hot. The reason sounds silly when I say it aloud.
“You don’t have to tell me, just know you’re worth the wait. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” My heart jumps at his words. Soft and convincing. Then suddenly, his shoulders tense and his eyes darken. “Did someone hurt you?”
I shake my head rapidly, watching as the worry leaves his body.
“No, nothing like that,” I say. “I…just wanted to make sure I was with the right person.” I thought waiting ensured guys were into you and not just using you for sex. My first and only boyfriend in high school broke up with me almost immediately after taking my virginity. I felt used and ashamed. I heard about the ninety-day waiting period on a TV show one day, and that’s where it all started.
His hand falls to my thigh, and he squeezes gently. “We don’t have to rush anything.”
I search his face. He seems sincere, and I’m not sure why it surprises me. Maybe I’m disappointed that he’s not in a hurry to speed things up. Which sounds silly, I know. I’m the one who put a timeline on sex, but I didn’t realize it meant we couldn’t do other things.
