Trust(50)

“I’m sorry.” He laughed.

“You’re not forgiven,” I hissed.

He grabbed my hands, wrestling me back onto the bed. The fool. In this position, I could use my legs as well.

“Shit,” he said, struggling to keep my knee out of his groin. “Edie, you want that working, remember?”

“I changed my mind.”

Despite my wrath, he won. His hands caught my wrists, holding them above my head. His body he wedged safely between my thighs. The worst I could do was beat my heels against the back of his legs in protest. And I did.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Really.”

“You’re still laughing.”

Somehow, he managed to calm himself down. “You didn’t really change your mind, did you?”

I sniffed as disdainfully as possible.

Realistically, however, I doubted I could hold out for more than a minute or two, maximum. Some of his weight he took on his elbows. Still, the feel of his body pressing me into the bed made all sorts of things stir inside.

Patiently, he waited.

“Hmm. I guess not,” I said.

“Need a definite from you.”

I swallowed. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Yes, I still want to have sex with you.”

A slow smile crossed his face, turning me inside out. Lying on top of me, being right there, he looked more gorgeous than ever. It wasn’t fair. Whatever happened after tonight, however this changed things, I’d never regret stepping into this boy’s bedroom. I couldn’t.

“It would seem we’ve already assumed the position,” I said, the corner of my mouth twitching in an attempt at a smile. “Was that your nefarious purpose with the textbook all along?”

“Maybe.” He licked his lips. “Mostly I just wanted to annoy you. Distract you from being nervous so you’d stop making me nervous. I had no idea you’d try to damage me.”

“I’m badass.”

“You are.”

“You’re not really nervous, are you?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, his mouth came down on mine, gentle, hesitant almost. As if he still had doubts about my commitment to this whole losing-of-virginity thing. That wouldn’t do. In a surge of action, I rolled us, putting me on top and him on his back against the mattress. Surprise turned into a smile, his hands sliding down my sides over the cotton of my dress. Knelt over him, I kissed him how I’d wanted to, how I’d imagined in my very best daydreams. Sweet, deep, and hungry. No holding back.

The noise he made in the back of his throat sounded like something between a gasp and a moan. Either way, it was full of approval. A kiss had never been so good, so all-consuming. We were all lips and tongues and teeth. His hands moving tirelessly, stroking my feverish skin, holding me to him. To be this close, touching him how I wanted, feeling his solid body beneath me. My fingers searched out his chest, sliding under his T-shirt, needing no barriers.

I wanted it all. Every part of him.

Stubble scratched my cheek, my lips moving down to his neck. The scent of him there was stronger, warmer. I kissed and licked and did what I liked. Bit him just because I could. John swore in a voice about a billion times deeper than normal, running his hands up the back of my thighs. My face pressed against his neck, I could have hidden there forever. Strong fingers grabbed at my ass, pressing my body against him.

“Edie,” he whispered.

“Mm?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want your shirt off,” I said, panting just a little, hands tugging at the offending item.

He sat up, forcing me to do likewise, and then he tore the shirt off over his head. The expression in his eyes, the absolute focus. God, everything about him. All of that golden skin, mine to explore. I pressed the palm of my hand over his heart, feeling it beating fast. Inside of him seemed every bit as stirred up as inside of me.

“Lay down beside me?” he asked.

I nodded, and his hand guided my leg over him, my body back down onto the mattress. Raised up on one elbow, he stared down at me. Fingers traced patterns up my arm, around my shoulder, and over my collarbone. We kissed like we’d never be parted. Life and death, time itself, none of it mattered. Tonight would be endless and nothing beyond the bed existed.

His hand cupped one of my breasts, taking the weight of it, his eyes huge. It was impressive, the string of truly filthy words spilling from his lips. Basically, I guess he liked my tits. And I liked him liking that part of me. God, I liked it so much.

Lightly, the back of his hand trailed down my chest, over my breast, then farther still. Not stopping until he reached the hem of my dress, sitting high on my thighs. My thunderous, bulky thighs. My bulging belly. Embarrassment over body parts still sadly endured. How horribly crappy. I broke the kiss, breathing heavy, my hands tangled in his hair.

“You okay?” His whole body stilled. “Want me to stop?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” The hand that had been sitting high on my hip, under my dress but above my underwear, moved to cup my cheek. “Hey.”

A mass of doubt and negativity raged in my head, chasing away the happy. No, absolutely not. Not here, not now, not ever.

“Don’t stop.” I grabbed his hand, putting it back on my hip. “My brain is just being stupid. Ignore it.”