Page 10 of Pucked Into Position

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?” I reach for her, caught completely off guard. It’s not that I don’t want this. The sight of her looking up at me has every bit of blood in my body rushing south, but I don’t want her doing anything because she thinks I expect it.

“I saw it in a movie once,” she says, those big doe eyes fixed on mine. “The guy seemed to really like it.” A nervous smile tugs at her lips. “Let me try?”

Fuck.

“Only if you want to.”

She nods and reaches for my zipper, her fingers trembling just enough that I notice. The nervousness should probably make this easier to resist. Instead, knowing she trusts me enough to explore this with me makes it nearly impossible.

“Lana, you don’t have to—Fuck.”

My head falls back against the door at her tentative touch.

“Tell me what you like,” she whispers.

I look down at her, fighting for control. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. Just take your time.”

Her eyes stay on mine as she experiments, watching my face for every reaction. I try to keep still, letting her set the pace instead of taking over. When a quiet sound escapes me, a tiny, pleased smile appears on her face.

Christ, she’s going to kill me.

My fingers slide into her hair, not guiding, just needing somewhere to put my hands. The moment becomes almost unbearable—the trust in her expression, the realization that she’s learning what I like simply by watching me.

“Stop,” I finally manage.

She freezes, uncertainty immediately replacing that little smile. “I’m so sor—”

I pull her to her feet and cut her off with a kiss.

Her dress rides up as I carry her down the hall, and the feel of her pressed against me makes it nearly impossible to think straight.

I kick open my bedroom door and lower her onto the bed. For a second, I just look at her—hair mussed, lips swollen from kissing me, cheeks flushed pink.

I reach for the hem of her dress, giving her enough time to stop me. She doesn’t. Instead, she lifts her arms, and I slowly pull it over her head.

The silky fabric pools at my feet.

And I forget how to breathe.

I’ve imagined this more times than I’ll ever admit, but the reality of Lana stretched across my bed is better than anything my imagination came up with. Soft curves, bare skin, perky breasts.

My gaze moves slowly over her, taking her in, and when I stare at her pussy, she immediately folds her arms across her chest.

I smile.

“What?” she asks, suddenly shy.

“Nothing.” I reach down and gently catch one of her wrists. “You’re sweet.”

Her blush deepens. “I’m naked.”

“I noticed.”

She lets out a nervous laugh, but when I ease her arm away, she tries to cover herself with the other.

“Lana.” I wait until she looks at me. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

The teasing disappears from my voice. This is new for her. I know that. And as badly as I want her, the last thing I want is for her to feel like she has to be anything other than exactly who she is.