His dark lashes framed his emerald eyes as he silently asked me for permission.
My breath was coming in short little gasps. I had never been naked with a boy before.
But I wanted this. Because it was Hunter.
I shimmied to help Hunter ease the shorts down my legs and off. And then, I was bare to him.
He sucked in a breath. The rough pads of his fingers grazed the inside of my thigh…and then dragged up to my core. He brushed his index finger across me once, twice.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out. It felt good, so good, and I closed my eyes at the intensity of the sensation.
When I felt Hunter’s thick finger slide deeper into my wet folds, I clenched in resistance.
I didn’t want to resist him, but I tensed as my thighs shook. God, I wanted him inside me so badly. I could hardly breathe as I bucked up into his hand between my legs.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
He held my legs with his other hand so I wouldn’t thrash, and I took a long, slow breath as he gently moved his finger to my opening. I let out a low moan of approval, and Hunter’s finger penetrated me.
Oh, Jesus. “Oh my God,” I murmured as I felt him go deeper.
The orgasm hit me hard, and waves of pleasure pulsed through me.
I clutched at Hunter’s arm and cried out. The sensations flooding my core were brand-new to me. I touched myself sometimes. But not like this. And I had never brought myself to orgasm before.
As I came back down to earth, Hunter kissed me. “Was that okay?” he asked.
“More than okay. That was…like I was flying.” I rested my chin on his chest. “Can I touch you?”
When he nodded, I reached inside his sweatpants. I widened my eyes when my hand closed around his erection.
I ran my fist up and down the thick length, and Hunter’s eyes slammed shut.
“Fuck, Winter. Feels so good.”
All I wanted was to make him feel good. On a night when his entire life was blown apart with grief and pain, if I could just help him for a few minutes, maybe he’d have one good memory to help balance out the horrible ones that I knew he’d have to deal with for a long time hereafter.
He began thrusting into my grip. I kept up my firm movement until my hand was covered in his release and my name came out a whisper on his lips.
Before I’d even removed my hand, I felt him start to get hard again. I raised my eyes to his. Hunter’s gaze caught mine, and I knew what he wanted.
I certainly knew what I wanted.
God, I wanted him so much that night. I would have given him all of me if he’d asked.
But he didn’t.
After another hot as hell kiss and his hands cupping my breasts again, he broke away and mumbled, “Sorry,” before turning away from me.
I understood where he was coming from. It felt like a rejection, but I didn’t even need to ask to know why he did it. He would say he pushed me away because he didn’t ever want me to feel used.
I also knew the truth of why he wouldn’t allow himself to make love to me that night—he was terrified to open his heart again to anyone because he feared he’d lose them, too. I felt his fear when his hands shook as he ran them down my body. I felt his angst when he kissed me like I was everything and then abruptly shut down our connection.
And I didn’t push him. How could I? I could only love him from the other side of the tiny twin bed we were sharing. I beamed as much love as I could over to him that night while he slept fitfully.
The funeral was quick and heartbreaking. My parents went, and they did their best to be caring. But when Hunter showed up at our house that same night, they didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for him. Not that their behavior stopped us from sleeping together.
And when I say sleeping together, I mean that literally.
