“That’s why I hired Daniel. To teach me. To…show me how to be better.”
Anger and disbelief lock my jaw. She barrels on.
“To practice,” she blurts, the admission jagged, hanging between us, both a wound and a dare. “You can get good at anything with practice, right?” Her eyes glisten, embarrassment written in every syllable. “It was my roommate’s idea.”
For a moment, I’m silent. Too stunned to find the right words. When I finally speak, my tone is sharp.
“How many men have you been with, Eden?”
She blinks, startled. “Why does that matter?”
“How many?”
Her mouth opens, then shuts again. She swallows, lashes lowering, her hands twisting together for the briefest second before she forces the word out. So quiet I almost miss it.
“One.”
I pull her closer until she’s standing between my legs, her hips brushing mine. One hand cradles the back of her neck, the other slides around her waist. She trembles but doesn’t move away.
“Did it ever occur to you,” I say, voice rough, “that maybe he was the one who wasn’t adequate? That he didn’t know how to…take care of you?”
Her breath stutters. Images flash—her hair fanned out across my pillow, her thighs wrapped tight around my hips, her mouth open with words I’ve been dying to hear.
“Look at me.”
I tilt her chin gently until those raw, uncertain eyes lock on mine. They shimmer with restrained tears, but she doesn’t look away.
Slowly, I lower my mouth to hers. The first touch is barely there—a ghost of a kiss, lips brushing once, light enough to break me. Her breath stutters, and the tremor shoots straight down my spine.
I press in again, firmer, tasting the edge of her mouth. She exhales into me, soft and shaky. My tongue grazes the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open. When she does, the kiss deepens—her tongue brushing mine, tentative at first, then bolder. Each stroke is a spark, fire catching in the hollow of my chest until the world tilts.
Her hands hover, uncertain, before rising to my shoulders. Fingertips test, then clutch, sliding up into my hair. When her nails scrape lightly against my scalp, I groan into her mouth, the sound vibrating between us.
The kiss is wet now, breathless, but still slow. Not a frenzy—an unraveling. She’s giving herself to me in careful pieces: one breath, one taste, one desperate drag of lips against mine at a time.
Control slips with every second, every flick of her tongue, every pull of her fingers bringing me closer to the edge. And for once, I don’t want to hold it back.
I break away just enough to rasp against her mouth, “Do you feel what you do to me?”
I take her hand, press it against the hard length straining against my jeans. She whimpers, shuddering against me. “You like knowing you make me lose my mind?” My mouth trails down her throat, tasting her pulse. I have to take it slow, keep myself from claiming more than she’s ready to give. Every muscle in my body screams to push, but I won’t. Not with her. “ I know I do the same to you, Trouble.”
She whimpers, shuddering against me.
“Let me be the one to show you.” My words are a vow against her skin. “Let me prove him wrong.”
My lips crash into hers, a groan ripping out of me from somewhere deep. I kiss her like she’s oxygen and I’ve been drowning. When I finally tear my mouth away, I’m dragging in air.
Her breathing is wild, her eyes wide and glassy. She doesn’t say a word. But the way she looks at me tells me everything I need to know.
This girl is mine.
17
PINNED (EDEN, AGE 14)
At fourteen, summer feels infinite. The sun spills golden across the dunes, and I’m watching Nate jog up from the water, different somehow than last summer. Taller, broader, moving with a confidence that makes my stomach flutter in ways I don’t quite understand.
Leo and Ryan are wrestling on the beach, rolling and grunting, showing off. They’ve both been boxing all year, but Leo’s been climbing faster—ever since Ryan left for college, Leo’s been overtaking him easily. I watch from the edge, arms crossed, trying not to laugh when Ryan ends up flat on his back.
