Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(49)

Even then, when we agreed that night would be the night he’d actually enter me—he still hovered over my body. Like it was just instinct at that point.

I trembled, a little anxious. Also hot with temptation and anticipation. I craved him so badly. Arousal ate me up inside, pulsated between my legs. Blazed the back of my neck. Aching, longing.

His hand veered over to the soft flesh of my stomach. Shirt and jean shorts already on the floor, his fingers stopped at the hem of my panties.

“Is this okay?” he whispered in my ear.

“Yeah,” I replied, voice raspy. He kissed my lips, urging them open slowly. I followed his lead, and his tongue slid sensually against mine.

I didn’t know where to put my hands.

Don’t remember.

But it’s hard to forget how my palms made uncertain, awkward movements. Usually I would hold his shoulders. That night, I wasn’t sure if I should touch his dick.

“Do you need me to…?” I started, but I didn’t even know what I was offering. A blow job? A hand job? Another sort of job I was unaware of?

We hadn’t even run all the bases together before that night. I’ve touched his dick—but I wouldn’t call it a full-on gold-star worthy hand job, and I’ve never put him in my mouth before.

I’m always in my head. Anxious and nervous like I’m doing things wrong, and Garrison has been sweet in not pressuring me to go further. I’m just more relaxed with him touching me than the other way around, I guess. Usually, we just make out, grinding a lot, and he’ll finger me until I come.

Back when we were in bed together, Garrison pressed his lips to mine again. More tenderly. “No, this is for you. Just relax, Willow.”

His fingers skated below the fabric of my panties, his touch achingly slow, and when he brushed the sensitive spot, I let out an aroused breath.

I inhaled the vanilla scent around us and held his firm shoulders. He slipped into me, and I gave myself to Garrison. I trusted him.

I loved him—I love him.

He pulsed his fingers in me, filling me, and his thumb teased my clit. Torching my body and nerves. His fingers would be replaced by something bigger and harder, the thought lit me on fire and brewed excitement.

As I touch myself in London, I imagine he’s here just like that night. About to fill me to the brim. His erection inside me. Rocking. Pleasing.

I remember how my breath staggered back. “Garrison,” I moaned at the soft pressure of his fingers. Building more arousal.

He pressed his forehead to mine, rocking slightly. He needed friction. He wanted friction. He ached to be in me. I could see all of this in his eyes and shallow breath.

Pleasure mounted.

His bare chest was slick with sweat, and a deep noise rumbled inside his throat. A noise that drove home who he was. Masculine. Man. Mine. And I was his. I am his.

How? I wasn’t even sure.

I was bookish and quiet.

He was rebellious and misunderstood. Guys like him usually didn’t fall for girls like me. But here we were.

His movements grew faster, our lips skimming with hot breath, and he brushed his thumb over my clit. I crumbled against him in a crashing wave.

My toes curled and euphoria spotted my vision. My breath staggered, moans catching in my throat.

In London, I grip the twisted sheets and arch my hips. Wishing he were here, touching me. He is, I pretend.

“I’ve got you,” Garrison breathed that night, lips to my ear.

I rolled down the blissful sensation. Eyes heavy lidded, I kissed the closest thing I could find—his forearm. A very pretty forearm.

When our eyes met, his overwhelming desire avalanched mine, covering me in so much need that I nearly quivered beneath him.

“You can do it now,” I said softly.

He rubbed my thigh and searched my gaze. “You sure you’re ready? I can get you off again—”

“I’m sure,” I said, confident about this decision. My hands drifted to the ridges of his abs. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Arousal pinned against his heady eyes. “Fuck.”

We were both smiling. Excitement swelled around us like a ruthless, restless ocean, and we were both happy to let the riptide pull us under.

He rose off the bed and I watched as he made the trek to my dresser—where he knew I kept the emergency condoms. Just in case.

He was buck-naked like me. He was twenty like me. But tattoos inked his toned body and he moved with such ease and confidence. No longer looking like the jock that I pegged him as when I first met him. He was a bad boy. Misunderstood. Mine.

I pulsed just watching him, and I relaxed into my pillow. In quick movements, he had the foil packet and returned to me.

As soon as he was back on the bed, Garrison drank me in again, like I was the most beautiful creature to ever grace the universe.

“Willow.” He said my name in a way that caused every inch of me to shudder. Like dipping a toe in a cold pool.

I glanced down at his length, his knees on the mattress as he ripped open the condom with his teeth. His dick was larger than anything that had ever been inside of me.

I leaned up, and he cupped my cheek and kissed me. I held his arms for comfort, wanting him close. He broke apart my legs with his knees. My heart beat rapidly.

I thought it might hurt a lot, and that was what I feared the most. Being scared and then making an awkward mess of things. But Garrison knew that already.