“We are alone,” I answer between kisses, goosebumps covering my flesh. I feel safe with him. The way he touches me, covers me, it’s all I think about lately. That and his infectious laugh, the way he strokes my skin, his tender words surprising in contrast to his rough exterior. I’m enamored, and honestly proud to have the attention of a man of this caliber. For other women, I’m sure a football star is all they see, but I see the accompanying stars that make up his constellation. Football is such a small part of who he is. Between our talks about ambition, love of family, and all they entail, I know the matter, the makeup of this man and trust it to be the truth. I feel it with his every word, his every action. It’s then I make the decision.
I separate us so I can look up at him, tracing the barbed wire tattoo around his arm with my fingers.
“I want you in my bed.” He carefully weighs my reaction. “Tomorrow night. Unless you think—”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“Lance, I want, I want…”
He exhales, warm breath hitting my center, my back bowing from his mattress. We’ve been at it for what seems like hours, unable to go more than a few seconds without attacking the other.
“Now, I want you now, all of you.”
He rises to hover above me and shakes his head. “Harper, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m not going to be the one to take it.”
“I’m not a virgin. I mean, technically, I’m not. I told you that.”
“My intentions aren’t pure for the moment. I can’t think past fucking you. And you deserve better.”
“And?” I wrap my legs tightly around him. “You had every intention of following through when you brought me here. Don’t bullshit me, Lance.”
“It’s just that I like you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “And I don’t know what happens after.”
“Sure, you do,” I say softly. “We both do.” I lean in and suck his lip. He groans as he thrusts into me fully clothed, making me gasp out his name. “I want this.”
“Harper, if we take this further, we take it further in and out of this room. I can’t guarantee I’m the best guy for you.”
“I know you are. I don’t need your assurances.”
“It should be with someone who can promise you a future.”
“Lance,” I pull back to make sure he hears me. “Please don’t be offended. But I’m not asking you for your future. I don’t need you to promise me forever or even tomorrow. When I think of my future, it has little to nothing to do with a man. I’m not planning my life around a man, now or ever. I’m a dancer, that’s what I want to be.”
His eyes do nothing to shield his surprise. “Wow.”
“Yeah, so don’t worry, I don’t need you to put a ring on it, I need you to put a condom on it. As long as we’re being honest,” I slide my shorts down along with my panties and wrap my legs around him. “I want this, right now, with you.”
“Harper,” he groans, dropping his head in my neck.
I boldly reach between us and untuck his cock from his shorts, running my thumb over the silkiness of the head.
“It’s so soft.”
He growls, ripping himself from my neck. “That’s not soft.”
“No,” I giggle, stroking him lightly. “The skin is so soft. So silky,” I rasp out.
“Great, you talk dirty too. Perfect,” he groans.
“So hard. I want to taste this,” I play with the moisture at the tip.
“Fuuuuuck, I may die.”
“Lance, look at me.” He brings grey eyes to mine. “I want this inside of me, now.”
“Harper, I don’t want to hurt you.”
He reaches between us; stretching me, rubbing me, beckoning, playing me perfectly.
“Would you rather it be someone else?”
His whole body tenses, as my heart thunders. And that’s when I lose my breath. His fingers stop, his breath stutters before he brings answering eyes to mine. In them, I see jealousy, possession, and I take those seconds to enjoy them. His hungry mouth descends as we lose the rest of our clothing. Once bare, he sinks between my legs, his eyes roaming appreciatively down my body before he plants his forearms next to me and we lock gazes.
“Sure?”
I nod again, and he reaches for a condom in his bedside table.
Once fitted, he slowly presses in, stealing my breath. Hands on his chest, I stare up at him breathing through the discomfort and nod my head. He presses in again, and white-hot pain sears through me as I arch off the bed into his chest. He holds me there, to him, his breaths ragged at my ear, I feel torn, I feel breakable, I feel precious to him. It burns, and I do my best to control my whimper.
“I’m not really getting the fuss,” I joke stupidly before silvery eyes meet mine. And then he kisses me, so deeply that the burn fades briefly, the thrust of his tongue is hypnotizing. It’s everything, everything. I know I feel for him, it was inevitable, but the feeling that it’s fleeting has me hanging onto every second. I bat that thought away and let him kiss me, let him shower me with the affection I’ve been starving for.
Because underneath him I feel perfect, not just adequate or passable.
I feel precious.
I feel beautiful.
He gently presses me back into the pillow with his kiss, his hands pushing away my hair.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
He gently rears back, and then it’s burning again. I don’t make a sound, I just stare up at him with parted lips, trying to soak in everything, the curve of his biceps, the strain in his chest, the longing in his eyes, his fast breaths, the way the sheet drapes over the curve of his ass.
“Harper,” he whispers, gliding in and out easily now. The pain still lingers, but it’s the pulse at his neck I’m studying, the weight of him on top of me, I’m memorizing. Girls like me don’t often get to keep guys like Lance.
I want to make that a lie. I want to believe we’re different. I want to believe that he’s capable of committing to me, of looking at me the same way for a thousand days to come, and a thousand days after. But I meant what I said. I won’t ever put my dreams on hold for any man, no matter how magnificent said man is.
So, this is what obsession feels like.
I’m smitten. Totally rapt, and I allow myself to warp and be shaped by it. It’s incredible and consuming. It’s everything I thought it would be.
“Better?” He prompts, his thrusts picking up.
“No, how are you doing?”
His grin is misplaced in the moment due to my uncontrollable mouth, but beautiful, and I love the sight of it.
“Fucking perfect.”
“Should I be doing something here?”
“Not this time,” he whispers through a pleasure-filled grunt.
“I’ll improvise,” I wrap my legs around his back and squeeze his hips with my thighs.
“Jesus, Harper,” he moans.
“Ah, like that? You’re so simple, Prescott.”
A chuckle escapes him as he speeds up. And then I feel it, something close to pleasure and a moan escapes me.