She didn’t want to, but she melted a bit at his words. She laid her cheek against his shoulder, feeling his heart pound. “You wouldn’t screw it up,” she said, knowing it was true.
“Your confidence in me is flattering.”
“No, I know you wouldn’t. Because you’d care enough to make sure it was good. Or at least, not terrible.”
He laughed softly. “I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted.”
“I only told you because I wanted to explain…” She stepped away from him, mostly because she couldn't think with him so close. “That you’d know why I’m not very good at this.” She began fiddling with her hair, beyond self-conscious. “I’m not very good with things I don’t know much about, you know?”
Grace wondered how anyone did this, especially with someone they didn’t know. Not for moral implications, but mostly because it was such a baring of one’s self. Literally, figuratively. Emotionally. She twisted her hair around her finger and let it go, pulling and twisting and making a mess of it.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said finally, looking up at him. “It just ruined everything. Now you’re going to avoid me, aren’t you?” When Jaime didn’t respond, she had her answer. She sighed. “Don’t put me up on some pedestal, Jaime. Don’t. I’m a virgin, not some saint. You won’t go to hell if you change that status.”
She watched as a grin tugged at his mouth. Then he laughed. “Have I said how much I love your honesty?” He took her hand and led her back to the couch. “You’re right, though. As always.”
She rubbed her hands against her pajama pants. They were old and worn, the flannel almost scratchy now. “So, what do we do now?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, I definitely don’t want to go home, that’s for sure.”
He snaked an arm around her waist and placed her on his lap. Now face-to-face, he said in a quiet voice, “How about this? You do what you’d like. You'll be in control of the entire thing.”
A thrill raced through her, but fear also expanded within her. How could she be in control when she didn’t know what she was doing?
“I’m not sure…” She touched that frayed collar again. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she mumbled.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he reassured her. He touched her hair, her cheek.
But she wanted to do something. Her heart pounding, she gathered her courage and pressed her mouth to his. He didn’t control the kiss—not like he had before—and realizing he’d meant what he’d said, her courage rose. She kissed him and he returned the kiss, hands encircling her waist. It was a slow, leisurely kiss, and she explored his mouth while he did in kind. He wasn’t passive by any means, but he let her do what she wanted and followed.
She broke the kiss, wanting to take him in. His dark hair, his dark eyes, the stubble on his face. She touched his cheeks, feeling the roughness underneath her fingertips. She traced the indentation in his chin, the dip in his upper lip. She felt the soft hairs of his eyebrows, and how his right one arched slightly more than the left.
“You’re beautiful,” she breathed, meaning it completely. Her fingers traced down his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob.
He smiled, brushing her hair from her face. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”
She shook her head. “This is about you, not me.”
He let her touch, let her play. She kissed him on the soft skin behind his ear. She asked him about a scar on his jaw—shaving when he was eight and being an idiot, he replied—and asked him about a bump on his left ear. “I tried to pierce my ear in seventh grade,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But it got infected two days later, and my mom said I deserved it for being so stupid.”
Grace laughed. “I can’t imagine you with an earring. You’d look like a pirate.”
“Better than a boy band reject.”
She kissed him over his heart, and for some reason, hearing him groan in his throat emboldened her. Conversation vanished. She kissed him as she touched him underneath his t-shirt. She traced the lines of his abdominals, the scattering of hair around his belly button, and then she pulled his shirt over his head. Heat spread through her as she gazed at him. A light amount of chest hair covered his pectorals, and she brushed a finger across a dark brown nipple. She’d never been this close to a man, touched one like this. It was a heady feeling. She watched as he took in deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. She smiled when she noticed a small mole close to his belly button.
His hands gripped her waist a little bit harder, like he was restraining himself. But Grace forgot all about that when she looked down and saw how hard he was, and for her. She felt dizzy realizing it. Curious but unsure, she looked at him, as if she could telepathically ask if she could touch him.
His eyes were so dark they seemed completely black.
“Can I?” she whispered.
His smile was dark and seductive. “Whatever you want, Graciela. I’m yours to command.”
For some reason, looking was more intense than touching. She kissed him as her fingers roved below the waistband of his running pants. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. The kissing and touching became almost too much, and she pulled away, concentrating on below. Pulling his waistband down, she couldn’t catch her breath. This was Jaime, almost bared to her. Jaime, who’d she’d dreamt about for so many years.
His scent, his warmth, the sounds of his breathing, the way his hands roamed up under her shirt when he’d said he’d let her lead, all of it combined to make her braver than she’d thought possible. She stroked him through his boxers; he groaned and cursed underneath his breath.
She loved that. She never thought she could drive a man wild—let alone this man—and she felt drunk on that power. She slowly uncovered him, revealing his hard cock, and her heart stuttered. She had no basis for comparison, but he seemed large. She lightly touched the tip, then stroked a finger up and down, tracing a vein underneath the soft skin.
“Graciela,” he groaned, “you’re going to kill me.”
She took him in her hand, squeezing gently. He cursed again. She kept doing that—squeezing, then pulling, feeling him get even harder. Fluid leaked from the tip, and when she touched her tongue to it, she felt him jerk.
His hand covered hers, and he squeezed it harder. “Like this,” he said into her hair. “You can’t hurt me.”
She wasn’t so sure, but with his hand around her own, she began moving her hand up and down, harder than before. He tilted his hips toward her. She breathed his name, and it was like that broke his control. He captured her mouth and kissed her hard, his tongue delving into her mouth as she stroked him, over and over again. She felt him tremble. He held her still as he kissed her like a wild man, and then on the last stroke of her hand and his hand upward, he cursed against her mouth. He shuddered, and she felt him coming, wetness coating her fingers.
Grace didn’t stop kissing him. She tasted his pleasure, reveling in the fact that she’d done this to him. She’d gotten Jaime to lose control. She smiled against his lips, finally taking her hand from his cock, but she didn't stop touching him, either.