His mouth opens slightly, and for a second, I think he’s going to devour me—Ipraythat he will.
“I want to be with you,” I say it plain as day in the event there was any confusion. “Now would be nice,” I whisper. I don’t think I could make it any clearer unless he prefers a physical cue, and dear God that is the very next step. I reach down and dip my hand into his jeans, touching the soft curls at the base of his boxers.
“Baya.” His eyes close a moment as his features grow all too serious, his smile melts away like candle wax. Bryson pulls me out slowly, as if he were an unwilling partner in evicting my fingers. “You don’t want it like this.” He shakes his head just barely. “Not with my mom and sister down the hall. I want your first time to be incredible.” He dots each of my fingers with a kiss, and a line of fire tracks down each one of them. “If you feel the need to scream out my name, and you will—” he holds his finger over my lips, his expression vexingly sober—“I want you to feel free—unrestrained.”
A moan escapes me at the thought of shouting out his name, hell, just being near him like this feels like a privilege.
“I guess you’re right.” I swim back up to him. “And, for the record, waiting is just this side of torture.” I nudge his foot with mine. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t spend the night, right?”
He traces his hand over mine, slow, like honey dripping off my skin. “I’ll be the last person to kick you out of bed.” Bryson tucks his chin and looks demonically sexy from this angle. It makes me want him twice as bad.
“I guess it’s better that nothing serious happens. I’m not ready to disappoint you just yet.”
His head ticks back a notch. “You could never disappoint me.” He runs his finger down the curve of my cheek, melts it down past my neck and stops just shy of my cleavage.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure it’ll be awkward, so I apologize in advance for dragging you to the Baya-loses-her-virginity party.” I glance down at my shorts a moment. “I want to know everything. I want you to teach me.”
“Hey.” Bryson scoots in until his body adheres to mine and rides his warm hand up and down my back. “There’s no party I’d rather be at.” He cinches a sad smile in his cheek. “And believe me, if I weren’t invited I’d be pretty ticked.” He rumbles in my ear with a kiss. His heart beats over my shoulder like a hammer, straight to the bone. “And Iwillteach you. Trust me, I plan on leaving no stone unturned. It will be a thorough, thorough lesson. I promise.” He holds up a hand like a Boy Scout. “You’re going to be amazing. I already know this.” Bryson growls into his words as if there were a psychotically sexy threat imbedded in there somewhere, and my insides cinch.
“Teach me, slowly.” I pull his hand over my chest until he clasps on and offers a firm squeeze. “I’m ready for my first lesson.”
“I suppose there’s a lot we can do before...” His words drift in the air like musical notes, stretching across the wall like erotic shadows you could touch and feel. Bryson runs his fingers under my tank top and skims over my nipples, and my back arches at his touch.
“You’re so incredibly beautiful, you know that?” His mouth covers mine with a sweet kiss that elevates me to that perfect nirvana just this side of ecstasy. My breathing grows erratic. My hips migrate to his just hoping he’ll break all the carnal rules he’s imposed tonight.
I stream a series of kisses up to his ear. “Do you have protection?” There’s not one part of me that believes he’s not into this.
“Not in the vicinity.” He pumps a dry grin. “And it’s a good thing, or I’d be unstoppable.”
Perfect. This is going to put my body and mind in a sexual paralysis without any hope for release. Bryson rolls on top of me and pulls up on his elbows until his lips hover just above mine. His breath holds the scent of minty toothpaste. He’s clean and mean, and I’m pretty sure I can’t take much more of this sexual depravation. Hopefully he won’t mind too much when I start dry humping him for the hell of it.
“I like you hot and bothered.” He grins from his aerial perspective. His eyes illuminate in the dim light and glow like that of a tiger. “When the time comes”—he bears into me in earnest—“I’m going to run my mouth over every single inch of you.” His finger traces the outline of my shoulder, down through my ribs, then my hips. He moves lower still all the way down between my thighs, and a small cry escapes my throat. My girl parts are ticking like a bomb, begging andshoutingthe only way they know how for me to get him the hell down there a.s.a.p. He rubs his fingers over my panties, hard, and I buck into him. “I’m going to sink a kiss right here.”
I hadn’t thought about Bryson kissing me anywhere but my lips, and now an entire world of possibility had opened, new fears were springing to life, and, not surprisingly, my vagina is weeping with joy. Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t dive into anything tonight. It’s becoming clear that a scalding shower and the business end of a razor are going to be mandatory for this new adventure with Bryson.
“Come here.” He turns me in his arms until my hips conform to his stomach, and we’re happily spooning. “Love you, Baya. Sleep tight.”
“I love you, too, Bryson.”
But I don’t get any sleep. I just revel in the fact that I’m in Bryson Edwards’ arms—in his bed, and I want to memorize how it feels.
Soon the weekend will be over, and all I’ll have is a memory.
In the morning, well, technically the afternoon, when we finally stop resisting the idea of spending all day in bed holding one another, we shower and dress.
Annie and her friend are already out of the house, and so is his mother.
Bryson and I decide to take in a movie in the late afternoon, then in the evening check out the fall festival that’s taken over the pumpkin fields down the street from his house. There’s a Ferris wheel and rides that are guaranteed to make you regurgitate your dinner—entire rows of carnival games that are rigged to suck the change straight from your pocket.
We watch as a boy effortlessly knocks down a pyramid of milk cans and wins a four-foot tall, hot pink giraffe. He kisses its nose before handing it off to the shy girl by his side.
“Aww,” I coo, gripping Bryson’s shoulder. “That was so sweet! Those things are impossible to do.”
“Impossible?” His head ticks back a notch. “Just let me know right now if you want a hot pink giraffe because, if you do, it’s as good as yours.” He gives my waist a quick squeeze.
“Oh”—a quiet laugh bubbles in my chest—“you think you’re that good, do you?”
“Oh, sweetie”—Bryson’s chest thumps as he comes in close with a dark smile—“I know I am.” He’s bedroom eyeing me, and I’m almost positive we’re not talking about pink giraffes anymore.
