“There are better ways to get bruises,” he replies. His mouth makes a sudden swerve back up to where my neck meets my shoulder and begins to suck. “Just tell me what you want.” Hemoves my bra strap out of the way and I can feel myself getting wet. Stomach tight. Energy building inside me. “Anything.”
My hands grab at his belt buckle, which is still pressing against my back.
He’s never seen my body and I am very sober.I catch the gut impulse of fear before it takes over and toss it away with a deep breath. Turning around to face him, I’m strangely unafraid that he’s going to silently judge me while pretending he isn’t.
“You’re beautiful,” Nick says softly. He holds my chin, not letting me focus on some random spot on the wall behind him. “Don’t roll your eyes. You’re—” He lets out a breath. “I could just look at you all night.”
I can’t help scanning for red flags. Old habits, I guess. He hasn’t done anything to merit suspicion. It’s me. Looking for evidence, creating narratives.
I give him the hint of a smile. “Please don’tjustlook.”
There’s a pause, then a flurry of motion: tugging up on the hem of his T-shirt, hands against skin, the belt buckle dropping to the floor with a soft clunk against the carpet. I almost trip while stepping out of my pants because we’re trying to kiss and undress simultaneously.
I don’t want to be patient about things like socks and hook-and-eye bra closures.
But Nick takes a step backward and then touches my shoulder, like a man without his reading glasses who needs to hold his book at arm’s length.
“Now you’re just looking again,” I say with a touch of whine in my voice, feeling his gaze on me under the too-bright overhead light.
“Just for a minute. I want you to look, too. Or you might wake up tomorrow morning, look to your left, and think ‘Jesus Christ, this guy has salt-and-pepper chest hair!’ ”
“Honestly, I have more questions about this.” I point at atattoo on his right shoulder that’s starting to fade and spread. “Is that a teacup?”
“You’re right. Let’s save the looking for afterward.”
“Actually, wait.” I lower my line of sight down his torso and lower, lower, lower. “I would like to stare for another thirty seconds, at least. Give you a taste of your own medicine.”
“I’m going to distract you, though.” He takes a step forward and the backs of my legs push against the foot of the bed. I reach for him automatically, pressing my fingers into his shoulder for balance, pulling himin.
And then it’s skin against skin. His hands on me, everywhere. Everywhere. Mouth on my neck, behind my ear. Then on my mouth, and I’m not being coy or tentative about really deep kisses.
His beard scrapes against my chin, throat, collarbone, breasts. A tinge of pain and he’s lightly torturing my nipple, but it’s not enough. I feel my head fall back and I’m staring at the ceiling fan, feeling dizzy but also more alert than I have ever been in my entire fucking life.
My back hits the mattress. His cock is so hard against my upper thigh; I just want him inside me. I’m pinned underneath his weight and I don’t want to feel any cool air betweenus.
I rake my fingers through Nick’s hair, my whole torso moving up and down with each breath, and I don’t understand how he’s doing this to me with just my nipple.
Iwantthings right now. Parts of me that have been dormant for so long are awake and greedy.
“Please.”Breath.“Tell me you have condoms.”Breath, breath.
He raises his head. “I had a lot of other things in mind first.”
Breath.“Nick.” I dig my nails into his back. “I’m telling you what I want.”
He grins and I melt farther into the bed. “Atta girl.” Okay, Ihave now sublimated into a pool of liquid. “They’re on the nightstand.”
The last thing I want to do is peel away from him. It’s like I’ve never been this physically close with someone—the magnetic pull sucking us together this time, instead of resisting. But I make the temporary sacrifice, roll over, and reach for the cardboard box.
“Extra-large magnum?” I dangle the sleeve of condoms in front of his face. “Sir. I think I better be on top.”
He tears one away. “Good thing you’re really wet.”
I’m a cyclone of giddiness and nerves and feral need watching him roll the condomon.
I adjust my position on top of him a little bit, my knees squeezing his sides.
He grabs my hips and I hold my breath. But instead of moving he asks, “Are you sure?”
