There was something familiar about Anderson in that moment, as if a part of me recognized him. If the eyes really were windows to our souls, then our souls had climbed through those windows and stood face to face in my kitchen, seeing each other for the first time without cloudy glass between them to skew the truth.
I cleared my throat, ripping my gaze from his to run a hand through my tangled hair.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked as I moved to the fridge, reaching in for a bottle of water. I didn’t even wait for his answer before closing it again because I already knew.
That pull I’d felt between us in my bathroom last night and on the porch this morning had exploded, hot particles sparked with energy buzzing all around us. I couldn’t face him again—I could barely breathe—so I gripped the edge of the sink and lifted the bottle to my lips, drinking half of it in one desperate pull.
I’d just set it down, lips still wet and the cap not even in place, when I felt him behind me.
Heat radiated off him, warming my skin and setting off a parade of goosebumps all at once. Fingertips lightly brushed my hip just above the hem of my shorts, and I stilled, frozen in place as his other hand swept the hair from one side of my neck. Where my breaths were stunted, his came steady and sure as his fingers tightened, and his lips pressed against the skin just below my ear.
I closed my eyes, my body so tense that it hurt as he kissed his way down slowly. When his teeth nipped at my shoulder, I hummed, my breath rushing out as the tension between us snapped like a strained electric wire.
The whole world came back in a rush, all of my senses invaded at once.
Anderson’s hands gripped me hard, twisting me until I faced him. He crushed his mouth to mine with a need so urgent, so wild. He was cinnamon and pine, warm and earthy, his expert tongue running the length of my bottom lip before he pulled it between his teeth. My eyes flew open just in time to see him close his again and he groaned, pulling me closer, arms wrapping around me completely as he slid his hands down to cup my ass. They tightened, and my breath caught as he lifted me, propping me on the counter to settle between my thighs, the heat of us connecting.
Every part of him consumed me, his mouth on mine, arms wrapped tight, one hand splayed on the small of my back while the other cradled my neck, holding me to him. I wondered what he was thinking, but it was hard to really think at all. The feel of him overwhelmed me after so long without a man’s touch.
I’d forgotten the intensity of a first kiss—the buzz of it low in my stomach, the shock of it stealing my breath.
He trailed his tongue down the apex of my neck, sucking the skin at my collar bone as he rocked his hips against me. I gasped at the feel of him pressed against the seam of my shorts, rubbing the ache I felt until I winced against the need for relief.
“Anderson,” I whispered and he groaned as if my voice had pulled him back to reality.
He slowed, hands still hanging on to me as he rested his forehead against my own, our breaths colliding in the space between us. My hands tangled in his hair, tugging, gripping, unsure if they wanted him closer or to push him to the other side of the room.
This was dangerous—we both knew it.
I wanted to shut my brain up, be like my friends who didn’t think about how they’d feel about having sex until after it was already done, but Anderson wasn’t just a hook up, and I knew that before he even took me to bed. I felt him in every part of me, and I knew we were about to cross a line we could never come back from.
Anderson’s mouth parted, eyes closed tight like he was experiencing the same struggle, but it was in that moment that I felt the raw demand. I’d had a glimpse of it that morning when he’d been on my porch. I’d seen him hurting, and now he stood in my kitchen with his hands holding on tight, that pain exponentially more present.
“I need you.”
His voice was low, the bass of it connected to the blood pulsing through my veins. Those three words unraveled any uncertainty I had.
I couldn’t be certain that I wasn’t setting myself up for heartache, or that I wasn’t doing the same to him, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.
He needed me.
I didn’t know why—didn’t need to know why—because the truth was I needed him, too.
And more than that, I wanted him, so badly it physically pained me.
So I pulled him in, kissing him with intent, with the permission he needed, and we both let go. We left the questions, the expectations, the fears, all of them shed like clothing on the edge of the cliff we both jumped off willingly.
He lifted me again, our mouths still tasting as he carried me up the stairs. I felt so light, so small in his arms. One hand found the string of my top when we hit the top stair and he pulled, letting it drop between us before tossing it to the floor.
He lowered me to the bed and I unwrapped my legs long enough for him to tug his shirt up and over his head. The hard edges of his body were menacing in the shadows, the only light in my bedroom coming from the half moon outside. I kept my eyes on his as I tucked my thumbs under the hem of my shorts, flicking the button open before tugging them down and kicking them to the side.
He reached for his belt, eyes on where I pulled the strings of my bathing suit bottoms. And when he let his jeans fall to the floor and kicked out of his boxer briefs, I couldn’t stand the space any longer. I reached for him, pulling him down until his lips met mine again. I arched toward him, hands running the length of his abdomen until I wrapped them around him and he groaned, thrusting into my touch.
Every move he made, every sound from his lips zipped on a hot wire straight down between my legs. A need that had rested like a sleeping giant within me had awaken not slowly, but violently, consuming me with a burn that only Anderson’s touch could soothe.
He bent, kissing his way down my neck and chest as I threw my head back with a gasp at the feel of him. Then his hands hooked around my thighs, tugging me to the edge of the bed, and I looked down just in time to see his mouth connect where I ached the most.
The sweep of his tongue was hot and demanding, my toes curling at the sensation where they hung over his shoulder. It was almost too much, finally touching him, him finally touching me. He was just supposed to be a neighbor, a friend, someone to talk to and help around the cabin but now that I’d tasted him I knew we’d never go back to that.
I never wanted to.
He sucked my clit as if he already knew the pressure needed to set me off, his fingers dipping down to slide inside me slowly. I gripped the sheets, twisting them in my hands as my back bent from the bed, gasps growing louder. I could have come right then, just from that one motion, but I wanted more.
I leaned up quickly, tightening my fists in his hair and guiding him up to my mouth. The taste of me was still fresh on his lips as I pulled him back onto the bed, his thighs spreading my own as he settled on top of me. The length of him slid against my wet opening and we both moaned, my heels digging into his backside with a pleading whisper on my lips.
“Wait,” he commanded.
It was the first word he’d spoken since I’d given him the permission he asked for, and it was the last word I wanted to hear. I whimpered when he pushed off, hands reaching blindly for his jeans. He pulled out his wallet and fished through it before pulling out a condom. I hadn’t even thought of asking him to wear one, and for some reason it turned me on even more that he was careful, that he was able to think straight enough to be safe with me.