I nodded, nervousness taking over again.
“You change your mind at any time and we forget anything ever happened or was said.” He touched under my chin with his forefinger.
“Or if I just, you know, want to warm up tonight and do everything else tomorrow?” I reached up to put my hands on his shoulders. “If, if - ”
“That’s all good. Or we can just watch Dirty Dancing.”
I froze, fear rising again. “Do you not want to? It’s okay - ”
He put a finger on my lips and I stopped stumbling for words.
“Zoey, I really want to. I’ve had a hard-on since we left the café and I’m really struggling to think of what it’ll feel like when I’m buried deep inside you.” He took hold of one of my hands and placed it palm down on his cock, over his jeans. “Do you need to question whether I want to fuck you or not?”
“Oh.” For a girl who was full of words I surprisingly had none to say. Apart from: “Will it fit?”
I was burning between my legs already. If that did fit inside me, I’d be burning even more afterwards.
Caleb laughed, tipping his head back. “It’ll fit. I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.”
My eyes widened. I’d watched some porn, heard people talk about sex and read enough romance to have a good idea of what he meant.
“Zoey, what have you actually done with someone else?” His laughter had stopped, his arms wrapped round my waist now.
I pushed my embarrassment aside. “Kissed. I’ve been felt up and I tried to, you know, give a blow job but we got interrupted. I was still in school.”
I could tell he was trying not to laugh, but I didn’t think the laughter was at me. “You gave the blow job while you were in school – as in the building?”
I laughed, pressing myself closer to him. “No. It was at a party. I wasn’t meant to be at it because I had a meeting with an agent the next day and my mum was really funny about me going to things like that anyway. It was the house of the boy next door but one to where we lived and I got carried away in his bedroom, but his sister walked in before he could finish.”
“Okay. Good to know all that. Let’s try one thing first.” He leaned down and kissed me, his lips softly pressing against mine, dictating it to be slow, then deep and then I didn’t want it to end. I pushed my hands under his sweater, pulling up the T-shirt he wore under it running my fingers over his abs and feeling the rough dusting of hair that led from his navel to below his belt.
And I kissed him back, feeling his hands dropping onto my bottom and pressing his fingers in. My body heated, a pulse between my legs bloomed and the rest of the world faded into nothingness.
He broke the kiss first. “Let’s go and get changed.” His eyes were dark and lips redder from the kiss. “See you back on the sofa and don’t overthink things.”
I headed to the guest room, stripping off my jeans and sweater. I needed ten minutes for a quick shower – did I need to shave my legs? I was waxed in between them – the outfits on stage made that a necessity, but everything else I took care of.
And then what to wear? I mulled it over while I showered and moisturised. No bra – no point making things even more fumbly and awkward, sweatpants and cute knickers, a tightish vest top and a sweater because that could come off easily. I checked my reflection: I was bare faced like I had been all day – I was less easily recognised when I didn’t have make up on. My hair was windblown, curls everywhere but it looked cute.
I looked like a person who could be Caleb’s girlfriend.
Heart pounding, I headed downstairs and into the lounge. Caleb was already there, sweatpants on too and a T-shirt that was pulled tight. His feet were on the coffee table and there was a bowl of tiny spicy crackers and cans of cola too.
No alcohol. For either of us.
“Did you overthink things?” He watched me head across the room.
“Of course.” I sat down next to him, not leaving any space with my back to his chest, which wasn’t unusual when we sat watching a film or a box set, and I put my feet up on the sofa. “Still up for Dirty Dancing?”
“Up for that and up in general.” He shifted his legs and I realised what he was referring to.
“Oh. Does it hurt if it’s been hard for so long?” I was aching but it didn’t hurt.
“A bit. It isn’t going to kill me though. Ready to start?” He reached for the remote control.
It was slow torture watching Baby learn to dance while falling in love with Johnny. I tried to focus on the film – I’d usually sing along to most of the songs – but I was utterly distracted by how Caleb was touching me. I’d lost the sweater, throwing a blanket over us which made it feel cozy and snug, and gave the idea that nothing was happening because I couldn’t see where his hands were.
He grazed the backs of his fingers along my arm, setting my body on a slow burn, pressing kisses to my shoulder that incinerated my flesh. I could feel his erection pressing into my lower back, thick and long. I wanted to touch it, to look at it, to see what power I could wield over it.
