He presses out a smile as my insides cinch.
Maybe Ace has feelings for me after all. Maybe molding them into something meaningful will chase the shadow of all other girls right out of his head.
“Great.” I lean back and take him in. “Let’s start right now.” My legs tighten around his waist. God knows I’ve already saturated my panties just hoping tonight was the night. When I dreamed up the idea of a summer fling, I never thought in a million years, he’d be so easy to sway. I thought vats of hard liquor would be involved, a pistol at point blank range, and here I am, on his lap without a drop of alcohol or a 45 in the vicinity.
“Wewillstart tonight.” He brushes the hair from my face as his gaze wanders over me openly. I feel exposed like this with Ace—as if I’m being seen for the very first time, and I glow under his watchful supervision. Ever since we were teenagers, I’ve felt a blistering heat whenever Ace laid eyes on me. And, tonight, his open gaze feels like a blowtorch over my skin. “We’ll start with kissing.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls. A patina of wanting washes over his features, and it empowers me.
“I think we’ve got that down.” I feather my fingers over his stomach, and it cinches. “Let’s move the lesson along.” Slow just might kill me. I tuck my hand into the waistband of his boxers, and he plucks me right back out again.
“I want to kiss you”—he brings my hand to his lips—“on the bed.”
“Yes, master,” it comes from me guttural and throaty as I glide my leg across him nice and slow, my fingers dripping down to his. I pull Ace over to the mattress with me and lie down for him.
Ace lies over me and leans up on his elbows—his hungry mouth just inches from mine.
“Sex is just an act, Reese.” He dusts my features with his lips. “If there’s no meaning behind it, it’s just some mechanical event, a timed session, a chore.”
“It’ll never be like that with us.” I try to hold back the laugh begging to bubble out of me. I have a bad habit of giggling at inappropriate times, and while proclaiming my true feelings for the only boy I’ve ever cared about would definitely be one of them.God—what if I laugh my ass off the first time I see the pride and joy he keeps tucked in his boxers? I cringe a little because a small part of me knows this is a very real possibility. I’m guessing laughing at man parts is cause for disqualification of said summer fling and will warrant a serious reevaluation of our newly minted best friend status. Crap. Is it too early for me to strut around with a muzzle? I think we’re back to the kink.
“Maybe it won’t be a chore, but if it is—if I overstay my welcome”—his dimples dig in a moment—“I want you to tell me. Summer can be an eternity if you’re not happy, and I’d rather die than make you feel that way.”
“Ace.” I give into the joy percolating in my chest. “You will never overstay your welcome.” I touch my hand to the back of his neck. “I promise you this. I swear on a thousand Bibles. I’ll want you near me every single day.” There is no greater truth.
“Good.” He gives a slight grin, but it melts away just as fast as it came. “We’re going to take things slow, Reese. It’s one thing to think you want it and another toreallywant it. We need to build momentum.” He rakes his lips over my neck and pants into my mouth. “That’s what we’re doing tonight—building momentum.”
“Momentum,” it chokes from me. “But, for the record”—I trace out his lips with my finger, and he gives a playful bite—“I’m not into slow. In fact, it just gained four-letter word status because it just so happens to be one.”
Ace offers the hint of a smile before landing his scorching mouth over the hollow of my neck and moving down just shy of my cleavage.
“It’s not happening tonight.” He strings a trail of kisses down lower into the soft skin of my breast and buries his face in one for a moment.
I let out a groan far louder than expected. God, if this simple act elicits my vocal cords to strangle out a cry, I’ll be screaming my lungs off when things get viral. But I hope not. The last thing I’m in the market for is turning him off while doing my best impersonation of a werewolf.
His breathing picks up. A growing protrusion stiffens against my thigh, and I give a dull smile. Ace Waterman is mine, whether it’s tonight or tomorrow—I can’t wait to have him.
Ace glides back up, landing his lips on mine. He crashes over me with a wave of fury that spells out right here, right now far more than it ever does slow and serious. I dance my tongue over his, and my toes curl as his hands glide up my shirt. Ace cups my breasts, giving a gentle squeeze. He rolls his thumbs over my nipples until they’re firm under his command. Ace has an unusual definition of slow, but I’m not complaining. Maybe he meant slow motion. I can live with that.
I dive my hands toward his jeans, and he catches me.
“Just kisses,” he says as he flexes my hands up high over my head.
“And what happens tomorrow?” I wet my lips in anticipation.
“Exploratory kisses.” He gives a crooked grin. “I get to kiss you everywhere.”
“And what do I get to do?” I purr the words out like a dream.
“You get to enjoy it.”
I’m already enjoying the hell out of it, but I don’t say it.
“So”—I nestle my head into the pillow and soak in this moment while the boy of my dreams lies over me—“I guess I’ll be losing my virginity to you.” Every part of me quivers as I say it.
Ace gives a sad smile. “I guess you will.”
After a marathon kissing session that spanned hours, and potentially dehydrated the both of us to deliriously dangerous levels, Ace drops me off at home. I let myself in, trying to ignore the familiar voices coming from the family room. I thread through the kitchen and peek from the hall, affirming the fact an entire roll call of Kennedy’s sorority sisters are present and accounted for. There are a smattering of guys here, although Warren and Gavin are the only two I recognize. The rest look like refugees from a local prep school with their matching khakis, their brand name Polos with the collars turned up to their ears. I make a face at the collar poppers. I bet they’ve got something in their chinos just waiting to pop once they divvy up the girls. My eyes run along the border of the coffee table and spy a stack of pizza boxes, enough red Solo cups to outfit the US military, and two six packs still untouched. Kennedy has systematically turned Beverly’s museum room into a bar and a brothel, and I clearly see all ten of my stepmother’s uptight commandments breaking simultaneously.
“Reesie?” Kennedy calls me from the across the room, and I startle. She has a habit of calling me Reesie when she’s shit-faced, and, now, I regret ever telling her about my special summer plans with Ace. “Come here for a minute. We’re debating something very important, and you know I value your opinion.” She slurs that last bit out so bad, it sounded more likeI vacuumed your opium.
