Page 92 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
BamaBoy42: Wanna chat?
Malcolm’s phone dinged again. He huffed in frustration, no doubt expecting another booty call text from Chrissy, but I could almost hear his smile from my side of the room.
Derrick362: Shouldn’t u be sleeping?
BamaBoy42: I would be but can’t stop thinking about my hot roommate. Distract me.
Derrick362: I’m completely naked right now.
I pressed my face to my pillow, breath whooshing out of me. Was he teasing me or being serious?
BamaBoy42: That IS distracting. Why r u naked?
Derrick362: Was thinking about my 1st time.
BamaBoy42: Yeah? Was it that good?
I guessed Malcolm was still playing the Derrick role because I knew for a fact his first time was with Kate Meyer and he’d broken three condoms before he figured out how to get one on the right way. It hadn’t been ideal.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the reply.
“No, but it’s going to be,” Malcolm said, his voice right behind me.
Everything inside me tensed. I rolled onto my back, finding Malcolm standing at the side of my bed. I raised myself up onto my elbows, letting my gaze openly travel over him. That simple act was such a luxury after spending so long averting my eyes. He’d lied about being naked. He wore a pair of low-slung track pants, and his hair was a disaster from lying in bed. But seeing him half dressed like that never got old—my stomach clenched every damn time.
I wet my lips. “You’ve already had a first time.”
“No, nothing’s counted before now,” he said, peering down at me, his stance confident but vulnerability written all over his features. “But if you want me to walk back over to my side of the room, I will. No problem. But if you don’t . . .”
I scooted over and pulled the covers back. I couldn’t say anything, my heart had climbed right up my throat and set up camp. But I’d thought about this for so long, for so many nights, dreamed of Malcolm one day crossing those few feet that separated us and climbing into my bed. After only a moment of hesitation, he lowered himself to the bed and stretched out alongside me. The warmth of him, his scent alone, had my body waking up and standing at attention.
This was it. This was happening.
He turned onto his side to face me, nervousness rolling off him. “Please tell me you want this.”
I swallowed past the knot in my throat and reached out for him, cupping the back of his neck and touching my forehead to his. “I don’t want this. I want you.”
His muscles relaxed in my hold and his mouth met mine, the kiss drawing our bodies against each other and settling some of the fear. The sensation was new and different with each step we took forward. Intimidating and a little scary, too. Holding a guy like this, feeling arousal that matched mine pressing against me, anticipating what would
happen next. But despite the nerves, everything finally felt right, like I was where I was supposed to be.
Malcolm groaned when I rocked my hips against him, and his reaction gave me the confidence I needed. I let myself off leash, exploring however I wanted. His hair, the hard planes of his chest . . . lower. When I wrapped my hand around him, the low, sexy sound he made nearly did me in. Yes. This.
Somewhere along the way, clothes were tugged off and tossed to the side. The kisses moved from lips to other places, seeking, tasting. And by the time, I reached for supplies in my bedside drawer, there was no fear left between us.
In those moments, in that small cell of a dorm room, the place of so many months of torture for us both, there were three things I knew for sure.
One: This wouldn’t be easy.
Two: We still had a lot to figure out.
Three: I didn’t freaking care.
Because when I woke up a few hours later, finding Malcolm stretched out behind me, arm thrown over my waist, I knew it would all be worth it.
Two in the morning had never felt so right.
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