“Not with you, sweetness, but there’s something to be said for firsts. He got the kiss. I get your bed. We’ll share the others.”
“Oh,” is what I say out loud, but in my head, I have questions. Does that mean Memphis wants a kiss from me too? Is Oswald going to sleep in my bed at some point? Why do I get butterflies when he calls me sweetness? It’s nearly as evocative as when he calls me a good girl, well, not really, it’s not even close, but it does something to me. And what are the other firsts they will share?
I can think of a big one. Does he know I’m a virgin? Can guys tell that sort of thing?
“Should I change before we go, or are we coming back here?” I blurt just so I can stop thinking about the other stuff.
“It’s still early, so we don’t need to leave yet. If you’re okay with us being here, we can come back. Your place is a lot nicer than mine.”
“I like having you guys here, but that doesn’t matter to me, about your place I mean. I’m sure I will like it if it’s yours,” I ramble.
“Come on, before he has an aneurysm or I take one of my firsts.” He motions for me to follow him as he climbs off the bed.
“Yourfirsts?” I question. Maybe I have this first thing all wrong.
He slows his strides, coming to a full stop at the end of my bed. I watch him slide his left hand into his pocket, and then he beckons me to him with a crook of his right pointer finger. I watch my feet as I make my way over, but once I’m close, I lift my gaze to his.
“A little closer.” He’s not whispering, but his voice is smooth and low. I take another step, and we’re only separated by inches. If I breathe too deeply, my boobs will probably rub against his chest.
“Ourfirst, sweetness,” he says, then he leans in so slowly, I know what he’s going to do, but I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s actually happening. His fingers curl around the back of my neck, and he pulls me forward so I meet his lips instead of him coming all the way to me.
“Open,” Memphis says against my mouth, and my lips part. His fingers tighten as he fists the hair at the nape of my neck. He slips the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips, running from side to side before pushing deeper into my mouth.
I don’t even know if I’m breathing. The only thing I know is Memphis Gravlin is kissing me as if I taste like cotton candy and melt like sugar against his tongue. Over my thundering heart, I can hear him breathing and feel the deep drafts of air he’s pulling into his lungs.
My tongue slides against his, and a breathy sigh leaves my lips, summing up what I’m feeling better than any words I could muster. He tilts my head and slips deeper into my mouth, and then come the uninvited thoughts.I can’t let anyone know, shouldn’t be like this.
I try to pull back, but Memphis doesn’t allow me to retreat. He makes a sound deep in his chest like a warning and nips my lip roughly. My stomach tightens, and I squeeze my thighs. Why did I feel that other places?
Softly and sweetly, he curls his tongue around mine. I’m afraid the thoughts will come again, but that fear only lasts until he sucks on the tip of my tongue with alternating pressure, and then I don’t care about the thoughts, or maybe I’m too far gone to even hear them.
I grip his shirt in my fist, but the feeling of something buzzing against my lower stomach has me jerking back, and this time, Memphis allows it.
“I knew that was a bad idea,” he says with his eyes still closed.
My heart sinks, and his words actually hurt something deep in my chest.
When I try to get away from him, he snaps his eyes open. “Eyes on me,” he demands roughly, like I’m the one who just said I regret what happened. I look up, even though I don’t want to. “Not the kiss. Do you understand?”
I roll my lips in so I don’t give him a response, because I don’t understand.
“I was talking about how little time we would have, not the kiss,” he tells me more emphatically and pushes his chest against mine while keeping a tight grip on my neck and hair. “There is no way you could think anything different. Now tell me.”
“Your phone,” I say when it vibrates again in his front pocket.
“Can wait,” he responds before I’m even finished.
“Okay,” I mumble.
“Okay, what?” he prompts. I should have known he wouldn’t let me get away with an evasive answer.
“Okay, I understand,” I agree. My feelings are slow to catch up, but I do understand that I could have jumped the gun on that.
“It was stupid of me to say it the way I did, but I promise that is not what I meant.”
“Okay,” I agree again.
When my phone starts to ring, Memphis lets out a sigh that I would call irritated, but I think it goes beyond that. “Let’s go.”
