His kiss is unexpected. I love that it makes my stomach lurch. I love that I can bury my fingers in his hair, and I love that Charlie heaves me up onto the stage. I’m above him now, and I love that he has to put his head back so that he can keep kissing me.
‘So, we had our first time together?’ I repeat, because I still can’t believe it.
‘Our first kiss and the first time.’
‘I love that it was so bad.’
‘It really was bad.’ Charlie looks up. ‘And I’m embarrassed I only lasted—’
‘Stop it,’ I whisper. Then I kiss him. He runs his hands over my knees and up my thighs. Slowly, firmly. ‘Just try to hold on longer this time.’
He stops, he looks at me.
‘What? Did you think it was going to stay a one-off?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Sinclair . . .’
‘Hey.’ He looks genuinely hurt.
‘What?’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘I’ve called you that for six and a half years.’
‘Exactly, and that’s quite long enough.’
‘OK, if you say so.’
‘I do say so.’
I budge back a little as he puts both hands on the edge and jumps up to me, with such force that he throws me back onto the stage.
‘So what do you want to do now?’ he asks, as he kneels over me.
I forget what I’d been going to say because his mouth is suddenly so close to mine. His perfect mouth with his perfect curved lips.
‘I want to do what we were doing at mine,’ says the pathetic remnant of brain inside me. ‘Only for longer. And more often.’
‘Longer and more often,’ he repeats. ‘I’ll do my best.’
I want to say something witty, but before anything comes to mind, Charlie lowers his hips onto me. And, oh . . . he’s ready. There’s no denying that.
I grip his shoulders and pull him closer to me. It’s basically all very similar to last week, but after a while of kissing and undressing and rubbing on each other, Charlie runs his tongue down my throat, over my collarbone, and then downwards.
He hesitates for a moment as the back of his hand strokes my left breast and I hear myself inhale. Sharply. ‘Not good?’ Charlie asks, in that divinely hoarse voice.
‘Good,’ I manage. ‘Do it again.’
He smiles briefly, then his hoarse breath caresses my skin, as do his fingers, and my nipples go hard. I’m finding it harder and harder not just to shut my eyes and let my head fall back. When Charlie licks my belly and further down, I have no choice.
The sound that escapes me is a suppressed whimper. Normally, I’d feel awkward, but I know that I don’t have to be embarrassed of anything with Charlie. Least of all when I feel him shudder gently.
‘Is that . . . good?’ he asks, as his fingers slip between my legs and I die.
I press my lips together and nod.
