I drew her closer. Her legs were slung over my shoulders, and her hands were in my hair, tugging it but softly, and I was kissing her just the same, kissing her like it was her mouth, kissing her like I couldn’t get enough, but softly. Licking, learning, touching, sucking.
But softly.
Everything, softly.
“Tyler,” she said.
I did not answer her.
“Tyler,” she said again. Her voice, high-pitched and a plea. Her body, melting in my mouth, and so messy, and so sweet. She sat up, wiping the sweat off my forehead with her fingertips. “Come here.”
I kissed her again, and then again, and then again.
“I need you inside of me,” she said. “I can’t wait any longer. I need all of you. Please.”
I kissed her one last time, then climbed on top of her, already hovering as we inched toward my headboard. She looked at me, then my nightstand. With her legs braided into mine, I licked the last of her off my lips and reached for the drawer.
“Can I tell you something?” she said.
My heart beat out of my chest. “Yeah.”
“I always thought, my first time...” She peeled open the condom and slowly rolled it onto me. She kissed me while she did it. “I always thought, somehow, it’d be you. I know it’s stupid, but it’s the truth.”
A single tear fell down her face. My mouth was on her mouth, and she was pulling me inside of her, inch by inch. Her jaw was softening, and I could count the flecks of emerald in her welling, widening eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. I was kissing away her tears, and she was touching my face, moaning through the words as she took the last of me. As the last piece of our puzzle clicked into place. “It’s okay.”
And then there was silence.
There was absolute silence.
I kissed her again and again and again. I was moving against her, touching her everywhere, charting every curve and edge and angle, and her hands were gripped to me—to my back, my shoulders, my jaw. She pulled when I pushed. She took when I gave. She gasped when I groaned.
“Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?” I said.
“I think so, yes,” she said, laughing. A few tears were still streaming down her cheek. I could not stop kissing her. I could not stop touching her. Her face was in my hands, and her hands were on my face, and my whole world rearranged in the space between us.
“I hate what I did to you. I hate who I was. If I could go back in time...”
“I know. I forgive you. You’re here now. You have me. I’m yours.”
I kissed her harder. I could not keep my lips off hers. I could not stop watching her—the way her inhales were changing, the way her eyes were rolling, the way the muscles around her mouth were beginning to twist, tighten, and go taut.
“Are you close?” I said.
“Yes,” she said. I was still on top of her, shoulders hovering. My nose on her nose. My lips on her lips. Our bodies, stuck to each other. Stuck to the sheets.
“Are you?” she said.
“Yes.”
She kissed me. “Nothing’s going to change, okay? It’s just me. It’s only me.”
“It’s only you,” I repeated as she pulled me into her a little deeper, a little harder. Her mouth was still glued to mine—and even closer now. Her skin was screaming hot, and she was clenched aroundme, wheezing, gasping, cupping my face. “There’s only you. There’s only you. There’s only you.”
“Tyler,” she said. “I need all of you. Now. Please.”
