What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(98)
“Reese,” I whispered, my cheek pressed against his chest there on his front porch. The night air was warm now that the rain had subsided, but I curled into him as chills raced down my arms.
“Mmm?”
I swallowed. “Take me inside,” I whispered, even quieter than before. Then, I lifted my head, capturing his eyes with my own. “Take me to your room.”
His hands slipped up over my arms, brushing my neck before they framed my face. And when he looked at me, his emerald irises thinned, pupils dilating as he searched my gaze.
“I want you to be my first, Reese,” I said, and my heart tripled its pace, the reality of the words I’d spoken hitting me in a mix of excitement and nerves. “My real first.”
Reese shook his head, pulling me into him in the next instant, his lips fastening over mine as he wrapped me in his arms once more. That kiss was so different from any we’d shared before. It was filled with thankfulness, with care, with love — and I found myself wishing to be kissed like that all my life.
He stepped backward over the threshold of the house, and I followed, our feet moving slowly as we kissed, and touched, and felt. His hands slipped between the buttons of my work vest, loosening each one with a new step, and I tried and failed to school my breathing as my heart raced under my chest. I couldn’t wait for him to touch me — really touch me — to erase every memory before him and brand me for his own.
My vest was undone by the time we made it to his bedroom, and he slipped it over my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and kissing me for a long, sincere moment before he broke away long enough to put on music. The soft, familiar notes of Claire De Lune floated between us as he set his phone on the bedside table, and he smirked, reaching for me as soon as his hands were free.
“Debussy,” I mused, running my hands up and over his dress shirt to wrap around his neck. “My favorite.”
Reese smiled, kissing my nose before he pulled back, searching my eyes. “This is what you deserved your first time, Sarah. The first man to touch you should have cherished it, he should have realized in the moment you gave him permission to touch you that he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the entire world, he should have been so nervous that he couldn’t keep his hands steady when he reached for you,” he said, and as if to illustrate, his trembling hands tugged at the hem of my long-sleeve shirt that was tucked into my dress pants. He pulled it free, pressing his cool, shaking fingertips against the tender skin below my navel. “I can’t go back in time and change what happened, but I promise, I will spend tonight, and every night you let me, worshiping your body until every memory of that night is gone.”
My eyes watered, and I shook my head against the urge to let those tears loose. “Don’t make me cry, Reese Walker.”
He smiled, pulling me closer as his lips hovered over mine. His tongue snaked out, touching mine only briefly before he bit down on my lip and sucked it between his teeth. That sent a jolt between my legs, and I moaned, melting into him.
“How about I make you come, instead?”
I groaned again, and he snickered, trailing his hands down until they bunched at the hem of my untucked shirt.
“Arms up,” he commanded, and I obeyed, breaking our kiss long enough for him to strip me free of the fabric before I fastened my lips to his again. Chills cascaded down every inch of my body like a hot waterfall, and my own hands mirrored his as I reached for the buttons of his dress shirt, trembling as I unfastened each one.
It was a slow dance — our lips tasting as our hands stumbled over the steps. He led, and I followed, trusting him to guide me on that dance floor of his bedroom. With each article of clothing we discarded, my heart raced more, and I grew more and more lightheaded with each new sliver of skin exposed.
When he was in his boxer briefs and I in nothing but my panties and matching bra, Reese broke away from our kiss, his hands skating up to my shoulders. He swallowed, gaze following his touch as he slipped his fingers under the straps of my bra. I closed my eyes at the sensation of his fingertips skating the sensitive skin, and when he unhooked the prongs at the back, slipping the fabric forward until there was nothing between my chest and his, I couldn’t open my eyes.
“Sarah,” Reese breathed. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
He pulled me into him, his warm chest pressing against mine, and I gasped at the feel of his skin against my hardened nipples. It sent another sharp wave of energy right between my legs, and every inch of me swarmed with want, with need.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
I creaked one eye open before the other, casting my gaze up at him. But his eyes were closed, his head bent, chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. He was nervous just like I was, and just as he promised, I knew he was cherishing every moment.
My hands slipped between us, settling on his hips — which were somehow just as hard as every other muscle that lined his god-like body. The tips of my fingers curled under the band of his briefs, and he sucked in a breath, chills breaking at my touch. I stepped backward, slowly, kissing his neck and chest with each step before the backs of my knees hit his bed. I paused, bringing my gaze to meet his as my hands slipped between the fabric of his briefs and his hard, muscular ass.
Reese rolled his lips together at the feel of me touching him, and when I kept sliding my hands down, down, taking his briefs with me, his Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat. He didn’t move to help me, to strip himself free of the briefs, but instead, watched me as I slowly undressed him, like he couldn’t believe it was actually happening.