“That’s it, baby,” he urges, his mouth hanging as he brands his touch to memory and burns his name across my heart. That term strikes me deep, and then I’m in a haze, drunk on his rhythm, soaking up the feel of his eyes hot on me.
I’d be his personal whore to keep this feeling. No wonder women make this a bad habit. I can see the appeal.
Moaning again, I thrust up to meet him and regret it because of the resulting pain, when he curses, drunk on pleasure.
My moans spur him on as I tighten myself, wrapping around him and he loses control.
He burns through me, knocking us both into orbit an inch past blissful oblivion, his eyes opening as if in shock as he convulses and pants out his orgasm. And then he’s kissing me, so long and so hard that I fight for breath. His lips cover every inch of my face, my neck, trailing down and laving one nipple then the other before he collapses in a heap on my stomach.
A smile graces my lips as I stare at the blades of the fan on his ceiling.
It was pleasure and pain, worship and consummation.
In head and heart, it was my first time, and it was perfect.
Lance, now a pile of hair and muscle on my chest breathes out his contentment as I run my fingers through his hair.
“Well, that’s one way to lose your virginity.”
His body bounces slightly against mine.
He rests his chin on my stomach, peering up at me while he massages my sides. “You okay?”
“Stop asking me that, this has been done before.”
“Just don’t want you hurting.”
“Well, I didn’t realize your dick was that big.”
A loud laugh erupts from him, and he pulls away to gaze down at me, his lips smiling, his eyes filled with a mix of scold and concern. “Stop making jokes.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“How about telling me if you’re hurting.”
“Hell, yes, I’m hurting.”
He winces. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” I say softly.
He holds himself above me his face glistening with the aftermath—a drop of sweat sliding down his temple. “Harper, that was a gift you gave me.”
“Was it? It seemed kind of awkward.”
His laugh rumbles through his words. “Stop making jokes.”
“Stop giving me material.”
“You can play off of anything.” His gaze rakes over me. “This is where you’re supposed to let the hormones kick in and get emotional.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
His grin widens as he presses a gentle kiss to my lips and moves to exit the bed. “I’m going to get us some food and water.”
“I’ll straighten up your room. You’re quite the slob.” It’s just the opposite. There’s not a single thing out of place. His books piled neatly on top of a cheap IKEA desk, while all his clothes hang in a small closet. On top of his dresser sits his watch and a bottle of cologne. Even his pocket change is stacked neatly. He’s a neat freak, and I love it. It’s definitely the room of a bachelor, but not wholly devoid of life. There’s a picture of his family on the nightstand. Covering myself with the sheet, I study the image and what must be the eighteen-year-old version of Lance on his graduation day, his smile sincere, carefree, a different version of Lance than the one I met. The man sliding on his sneakers is a far cry from the boy in the picture. When I get a glimpse of that boy here and there, I hang onto it. It’s the side I love the most. A side I’m sure only a few see. I’m one of the lucky ones. He’s let me in, and it both elates and terrifies me.
Lying in his bed naked in more ways than one, the reality of his words set in. My emotions are getting the best of me. I’ve let myself be vulnerable with him, something I don’t take lightly. Something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be capable of again. But because he is who he is, because of his understanding, it feels like I’m with another version of myself. We are alike in a lot of ways; ambitious, hard-working, goal-oriented, family-oriented, and loners who don’t easily trust. And I want so badly to trust the version I know; the version whose touch makes me feel beautiful and breakable, fragile and worthy.
I share a reassuring grin with him as he leaves the room, burying my fears beneath that smile. It’s only when I hear his footfalls on the stairs that I let the tears slip. But they aren’t tears of regret or pain. They’re tears that let me know I made the right decision by choosing Lance Prescott, no matter where that decision leads us.
Lance
“Oh no. Oh, my God!” Her shriek is low, but it wakes me from a dead sleep. Raising my head from my pillow, I squint in the dark to see Harper shuffling around the room dressing frantically.
“What’s wrong?” I click on my bedside lamp, and she freezes, one leg in her shorts. Closing her eyes, she hangs her head.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
I grip her hand and pull her to sit on the edge of the bed, distracted by how her hair cascades down her back. I’m so tempted to pull her back to bed, but the look on her face has me on edge.
“Tell me.”
“It’s bad. Brace yourself.”
“Tell me.”
“I didn’t mean to. Swear to God.”
“To what?” I glance around the room and then back to her. “What could you have done in this room in the last few hours?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Out with it,” I growl impatiently and she jumps. “Sorry. But the suspense is killing me.”
“I may have just Snapchatted a picture of your ass and the top of your jersey to my sister. Well,” she says a blush creeping up her neck, “it was meant for my sister.”
“What?” I chuckle. “Why?”
“It’s not funny,” she says gravely.
“It’s kind of funny.”
“Lance, I Snapchatted your ass to my father!”
I freeze.
“I sent it to my whole family. I meant to just get the top of the jersey without the number, I was cropping it that way and didn’t see your ass in plain view behind it.”
“Did you add a caption?”
“Yes.”
I can’t help my laugh.
“Lance, it’s not funny!”
“Okay,” I say, unable to hide my smile. “Sorry,” I do my best to keep a straight face. “What did it say?”
“I’ve taken a lover. Grand man, indeed.”
“Oh, shit,” I lay back as laughter rips out from me.
“It’s not funny!” She whisper-yells before her face falls.
“Why would you do that?”
“You wouldn’t understand. It’s a sister thing. She’s been trying to get me to take the leap for a hot minute.”
“I’d say you did a pretty good job.” I rub her silky hair between my fingers, itching for another go with her.
“Lance,” she shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I really screwed up.”
“Okay,” I sit up doing my best to get my shit together as I try to pull her to me. She shakes her head and pushes at my chest.
“Hey, it’s going to be embarrassing, but it will pass.”