A Lover's Lament
K.L. Grayson & BT Urruela
1996
“Cross That Line” – Joshua Radin
“KATIE—JESUS.” MY TONGUE SWIRLS around Devin’s nipple, effectively cutting him off midsentence, and when I nip at it playfully, a low growl rumbles from his chest. I smile against his skin, loving that I have this effect on him. Palms flat against his stomach, I push up to see Devin’s green eyes glowing under the dull light of the moon. When I reach for the hem of my shirt, his gaze follows.
“There’s something I need … something that we …” His words trail off, his lips parting as I grip the flimsy material and lift it over my head. My heart is racing with nervousness and anticipation. I’ve never done this before, and even though I feel safe and treasured with Devin, I’m still a nervous wreck. I may be a virgin, but he most certainly is not.
“What was that?” I let my shirt fall, and Devin’s eyes flit between my eyes and chest.
“I, uh … I’m …” With a quick flick of the wrist, I unclasp my bra. Devin blows out a slow breath and then swallows hard before attempting to finish his thought. “It’s just that …” My bra joins my shirt in a pile on the floor. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes.
I palm my breasts, rubbing my thumbs over my nipples, and Devin’s eyes flare with desire. Strong, warm hands slide up my bare thighs, kissing the bottom of my skirt before sneaking underneath. Slowly, he hooks a finger in my panties and tugs them to the side before slipping it inside of me.
His touch is intoxicating, sucking me in, drowning me in a level of intimacy that I’m not at all used to. Overwhelmed with emotion, I swallow past my heart that is planted firmly in my throat, and my eyes drift shut as the weight of this moment—the moment I’m certain I’ve spent the last two years waiting for—sinks in.
Devin and I met on the first day of first grade. He stole my Barbie pencil, I cried like a little girl—well, because I was one—and then, forever the peacemaker, my friend Wyatt stole it back. The next day on the playground, Devin pushed me down and walked away laughing. But what he didn’t know was that my crying fit the day before was merely nerves on the first day of school. I was a tomboy, ready and willing to play dirty, even if I was wearing a dress. Pushing up from the ground, I ran after him as fast as my little legs would carry me and I plowed right into his back, tossing us both to the ground.
When it was all said and done, Devin had a split lip, my knee was all sorts of ripped up, and at the ripe age of six years old, I’d earned my first trip to the principal’s office.
Side by side, Devin and I sat in tiny orange chairs against the wall. “Ya busted my lip.” His words caught me off-guard and I looked over at him. He was smiling a big toothless smile, and I couldn’t help but grin. It’s quite possible that he stole a piece of my heart that day, even if the concept would remain foreign to me for several more years.
At the age of fifteen, I finally admitted to myself that I, Katie Devora, was head over heels in love with Devin Clay. And it wasn’t until two and a half years later—three months shy of my eighteenth birthday, and a measly two weeks ago—that I built up enough nerve to tell Devin how I felt. He had me pinned against his truck, mouth slanted over mine, before I finished giving him all of the reasons we should take our friendship to the next level.
A low moan rips through the air, and when I realize it actually came from my mouth, my eyes snap open, slowly regaining focus. My skirt is bunched around my waist and Devin’s hand is lodged between my legs while the other holds a tight grip on my hip. As my ragged breathing slows, my body and mind floating back to earth, something akin to worship flashes in his eyes.
“Katie—”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. My body is vibrating with pleasure, and I need this more than I’ve ever needed anything. “Please don’t stop.” I won’t survive if you stop.
“Fuck, no,” Devin breathes. “I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.” Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. It’s sad really, but a whimper falls from my mouth when Devin removes his hand from between my thighs. Cupping my face in his hands, he pulls me to him, brushing his lips against mine. “I want this, Katie, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but I know you’re…” His eyes soften, pleading with me to understand what he’s saying so he doesn’t have to actually say it. “It’s just that I need to know you want this … with me.”
Doesn’t he know how much he means to me? Haven’t I told him time and time again that the two of us together is so incredibly perfect that even my dreams couldn’t conjure up anything better?
Then it hits me. Everything Devin has told me about his relationship with his mom and the way she’s treated him, tearing him down, little by little. He needs to know that I want him and only him, to be reassured that he’s not only worthy but deserving of something this perfect. And if that’s what he needs, I’m more than willing to not only tell him how much I love him but show him as well.
Falling forward, my palms land flat on the bed on either side of his head. Slipping from my shoulders, my hair falls down, sheathing us in our own little cocoon. “I can’t imagine doing this with anyone but you. You’re my dream, Dev. This … this is my dream.”