Page 67 of Lance

Willa

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder why I’m not more nervous. You would think I would be terrified. Not of Lance—I can’t imagine ever being scared of Lance—but scared of myself. Scared I’m going to mess this up, the way I’ve messed up so many other things in my life. I’m not the girl who’s good at things like this, the girl that gets theguy.

But the thing is, I don’t feel like that girl anymore. Not with Lance. And I don’t feel afraid atall.

I lead him to his room, feeling sure and confident and completely crazy with wanting him. I feel his hand trembling in mine and I’m struck by an unfamiliar surge of something like power. He wants me like I want him. How is that evenpossible?

When we reach the bed I turn to face him, his expression taking my breath away. No one has ever looked at me like that, like they need me. I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt, slightly surprised by my own daring as I lift it up and over myhead.

Lance groans, his gaze dark and hot as he stares at me, and I reach for him, needing to feel him, needing his skin against mine. Somehow I get his shirt off and then he’s kissing me, his mouth insistent and warm against mine. And then we’re falling backwards onto the mattress, his fingers pulling on the clasp of my bra, and it’s all happening so fast but somehow it’s still tooslow.

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, pulling back to stare at me. “So beautiful,Willa.”

I feel beautiful. I feel beautiful and powerful and desired and it’s such a new way to feel for me that I can’t breathe for a second. Lance notices. “Are youokay?”

I nod but it’s not good enough for him. He pauses in the act of tugging at my skirt to cup my face, his dark eyes staring down at me. “Talk to me,Willa.”

“I’m fine,” I murmur, my heart swelling for him. How could he ever doubt himself, this caring, perfect man? “Better thanfine.”

He grins then he’s kissing me again, his hands back at my skirt. My hands are everywhere, like I’ll fall apart if I don’t touch all of him, right now. His skin quivers as my fingers skim his stomach, his chest, those beautiful tattooed arms, strong from hours and hours of playing his piano. His shoulders are broad and smooth below my hands, his back muscles flexing as he finally succeeds in pulling my skirt away. It occurs to me that I’m almost completely naked, that Lance is reaching for a condom—this is real. This is happening. But still the fear doesn’t come. This is right. This is what Iwant.

He says my name when he slides inside me, the sound a whisper in my ear. His body is taut against mine and I know he’s holding back, that he’s trying to be gentle. “Please,” I whisper against his neck, needing more. Then he’s kissing me again and there’s nothing gentle about it. He’s moving above me and he feels so good and I know this won’t lastlong.

Just before we fall over the edge together he pulls back to look at me, those beautiful eyes filling my view, and then I’m coming apart and for the first time in my life, my brain shuts off and I stop thinking. Everything is feeling now, sound and touch and taste and Lance. And it’s perfect. He’sperfect.

“Willa,” he says again, just my name. And I’mgone.

* * *

I wonderif my heartbeat will ever return to normal. I mean, logically I suppose I know that it will. I’ve taken plenty of human anatomy courses and I understand that what I’m experiencing is pretty normal. Flushed cheeks, rapid heart rate, increased breathing. It’s probably all very standard, from a scientificangle.

The thing is, I don’t really give a shit about the science. Not right now. As far as I’m concerned, what just happened had very little to do with science, biology be damned. What just happened was…magic.

I chance a peek up at Lance. He’s breathing pretty heavily himself, his eyes closed. I take the opportunity to let my eyes roam his face, so relaxed and peaceful. Happy, even. Because of me? And then there’s the rest of him. Those shoulders that I love so much, the perfect place to rest my cheek. And his arms, his beautiful arms, that had held me so closely just momentsago.

What is he thinking now? Could he possibly have been as affected by what we just did as much as Iwas?

“Willa,” he murmurs, and my gaze snaps back to his face. His eyes are open now, watching me. “You’re trying to analyze this, aren’tyou?”

“No! I mean…maybe. Um. Why do youask?”

He grins, pulling me closer, and I snuggle into his side, feeling like my heart might burst with happiness. “Has anyone ever told you that you move your lips when you’re trying to solve aproblem?”

Damnit.

“Maybe once or twice,” I mutter, and helaughs.

“Well, I think it’s prettycute.”

I pull myself up a little bit, resting my chin against his chest so I can see his face better. “Let’s say I was trying to analyze it,” I say. “What, uh, should my conclusionsbe?”

He laughs, closing his eyes again. “You tellme.”

“Well, from an observational standpoint I would say that that was pretty enjoyable…for bothparties?”

His eyes open again and they’re flashing in that way that tells me he’s going to tease me. “Are you trying to ask if I enjoyedmyself?”

“Um, yes,” I manage to squeakout.