Page 121 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
“Hmm?” Nervous energy shoots through me like I’m plugged into a wall socket.
“Tell me before I cross any lines, okay? Because it’s going to be hard to keep my hands off you.”
The sweat on my skin goes cold, but not from fear. I believe him. I trust him. I want him.
Our lips meet, gently at first. And then he’s touching my face, my hair, my waist. He pulls me as close as he can over the gearshift, holding me like he can’t get enough. I vacillate between anxiety and the desire to be somewhere more comfortable, but mostly I’m lost in the taste of him.
“So sweet.” His words come between gasping breaths, and once they’re out, he pulls away. “Too sweet. Not here.”
“Here,” I demand.
Awkwardly, I crawl over the shift to straddle him. I don’t care how I look doing it, I just need more of me to be touching more of him. I take off his hat, throw it in the floorboard, and run my hands through his hair. He kisses my lips, my neck, my collarbone. All my primal responses are full-blown, and from my position in his lap, so are his.
“Liza . . .”
“Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up don’t ruin it.” If he stops, I’ll stop. And if I stop, I might never get started again.
Except I know that’s a lie. I’ve wanted him for so long, and after admitting it to myself, I realize I’m freaking ripe on the vine.
I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off him either.
Ben
“WE SHOULD GET out of the car.” I whisper in her ear. I worry the gearshift is digging into her side, that this is too fast, that what I want from her is too much. That I’m going to give in and take it if she offers.
“No, we shouldn’t.” She grabs the back of my seat and pulls herself closer. Her hips move just the way I want them to, but not the way I need them to. Not in this exact moment. “Unless you want to take it inside.”
“We can’t.”
“Why?”
I grit my teeth and close my eyes. Now isn’t the time to think about how much I want her. How long I’ve wanted her. I try not to picture it, even though the only thing keeping us apart is clothing. She puts her lips on mine again, and for a few minutes the only sound is our erratic breathing.
“There will be too much talk,” I finally get out. “Too many people in your place who’ll see it as a hookup.”
“People are going to talk anyway.” Her words are a whisper against my skin. “They saw us together; they’ll make their assumptions. I saw the way the girls looked at you in Trippy’s. I see the way they look at you all the time.” She runs a hand down my chest, tucks one finger into my waistband. Licks her lips. “Maybe I want you to forget every single one of them but me.”
She teases.
I die.
“Tell me this,” I ask, mentally willing her not to move her hips. “Did I look at any of them tonight?”
“No.” Her grin is powerful.
“Have you seen me look at anyone all season?”
She thinks, and the grin grows to a full-blown smile. “No.”
I shake my head. “No. Because I can only see you.”
“I believe that. What I can’t believe is how long it took me to do it.” Leaning over, she whispers in my ear. “Now, I want you to show me.”
She’s so soft. So warm. So perfect.
When she pulls my shirt over my head, I return the favor, telling her how beautiful she is with all the words I can manage. Then I show her. Taste her. Run my fingers over every inch of skin I can reach. I trail kisses from one bare shoulder to the other, relishing in the feel of chill bumps. I use my tongue to explore the swell of her breasts and almost lose myself in the sound she makes. Her bra is black. Lacy, sheer. And it’s killing me. I want it on the floorboard with our shirts.
Along with everything else she’s wearing.
