I’m far from it.
I’m here, lying to my family, who think I’m visiting my friend. Instead, I’m with Tristan.
So far from freaking perfect.
“Just kiss me and make me forget,” I tell him, and the blessed man does.
He kisses me, so deeply, so lovingly, I can’t remember any of the things we’re doing wrong.
“Fuck, Lark, I need you,” he groans against my lips.
“Take me.”
I don’t hesitate. I need him just as much, maybe more. He lifts me up, carrying me into the bedroom.
He carefully lays me on the bed, hovering over me and staring down. “I want our first time tonight to be different.”
I nod, unable to speak.
If I were to open my mouth, I might say something stupid like:I want to be with you. I want more. I want it all. Give me your broken heart and let me mend it. Or hell, don’t give it to me. Just take mine and trample it, because that’s what’s going to happen to it anyway.
No, that’s not what will happen. This is sex.
Sex in a bed.
Sex without strings.
Remember that, Lark, you idiot.
“Whatever you want, I want,” I force myself to say.
He grins and then kisses my neck, down my collarbone, and lifts my shirt, exposing my breast.
Tristan’s tongue slides down, circling my nipple. I gasp, my fingers sliding through his thick brown hair. He sucks deep, my back arching off the bed as the sensations rip through me. Every time we touch, I feel as though I’m becoming someone else. That he gives me freedom to just…be.
“I want you naked,” he says. “Naked and beneath me. I want to make you come apart so many times you don’t know if you can ever fit back together.”
Yeah, that sounds both amazing and terrible at the same time.
Tristan pushes up, his hand moving to the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. I watch the white tank fall to the floor. Then he removes my shorts and underwear, leaving me exactly as he wanted. Naked before him.
“Now what?” I ask, my voice strained.
His eyes roam my body, as though he’s seeing me for the first time. But he’s definitely seen me naked before.
“I want to look, to memorize every curve, every muscle, every dip and valley. I want to kiss every inch of you.”
“I told you, everything you want is what I want.”
Tristan pulls my hand down from his hair, kissing my fingers, then my palm, up to my wrist, across my arm, then does the same to the other side. His lips drag across my skin, and he trails my neck, my throat, my jaw, every part of my face before going back to my breasts.
“Oh, God,” I pant, my breath catching when he sucks my nipples.
“Feel good?” he asks.
“Yes, so good.”
He always feels good. That’s part of the problem.
