Page 33 of How to Date a Younger Man
With my heart beating out of my chest, I grab a pair of black athletic shorts from the top of my duffel bag and unlace my swim trunks. Layne’s gaze wanders lower, caressing my chest and abs, then settle at where my hands have now paused in their work.
I turn and face the wall of the tent before dropping my swim trunks and stepping into my shorts. Feeling the heat of her gaze on my ass, I have to take a deep breath to calm myself down, because popping wood in these thin shorts isn’t going to go unnoticed.
My sleeping bag is only a few inches from hers, and when I lie down on it, we’re almost close enough to touch. Layne’s chest rises and falls with a sigh. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
Is she nervous?
Once again, I lift my hand and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I had fun with you today,” I say softly.
She tilts her head, watching me. “Thanks for this. It was exactly what I needed to get out of my own head.”
I’m about to make a joke about vitamin D solving all problems when she shifts closer and gives me the look. The look that says she wants me to kiss her. Her eyes flutter closed, and she wets her lower lip with her tongue.
Without any more prompting, I close the space between us, bringing my lips to hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. Her hands roam up my arms, ghosting over my biceps, my shoulders, before settling into my hair. She pulls me closer with a soft whimper. My fingers slide along her jawline, tilting her head slightly. Layne opens her mouth to me and her lips part, allowing me to deepen the kiss.
The second her tongue touches mine, my cock hardens. I taste watermelon and tequila, sweet and salty.
Layne gasps between kisses, but I won’t stop to let her catch her breath. My dick is throbbing against the mesh of my shorts, begging to be touched. I moan into the kiss, my hand leaves her jaw to trail down her neck to her collarbone. My thumb brushes the top of her breast, and her back arches in approval. Kissing her slowly, deeply, I take her soft breast in my hand, reveling in the satisfaction of all my fantasies today. When I roll her nipple between my fingers through the thin material of her T-shirt, she jolts.
“Griff,” she says softly, her voice filled with desire.
I let out a slow exhale, my heart pounding out an uneven rhythm. This is finally going to happen.
Her hands tease over the muscles in my chest, and she urges me closer. I roll on top of her, caging her in beneath me while I settle on my forearms. Our mouths break apart for a moment, and I gaze down at her heavy-lidded eyes.
“You’re beautiful. You know that?”
Her lips tilt into a smile. “And you’re a really good kisser.” Crossing her ankles behind my back, Layne shifts, rocking us closer—until the heavy weight of my erection is pressed right between her legs. “Fuck . . .”
I press closer, angling my hips to rub my hard length over her sweet spot, and her lips part on a groan. “Yeah, sweetheart? That feel good?”
“Uh-huh.” She moans, lost to the sensation.
I love that it’s me making her feel good, and my head swims with that knowledge.
She’s so warm beneath the cotton of her panties, I want to peel them back, touch her, and make her come on my fingers. But it’s hard to pull myself away from her mouth, so I settle for dry-humping the shit out of her as we grind together. Mature, I know.
She’s getting close. Her breathing has changed, grown more ragged, and her pulse thrums frantically in her neck. But I sense she’s waiting for something.
“I want you to come,” I murmur, sucking on the tender skin at the base of her throat.
A tremor rocks through her body, but then she pulls back. “Hold on. Wait,” she says, her voice strained.
“What’s wrong?”
Layne sits up and rakes a hand through her hair. “I can’t do this.”
Fuck. I sit up, trying to meet her eyes, but she stares straight ahead into the darkness.
“Look at me,” I say, and she does, but I can’t read her expression. “Do you not want to?” Three seconds ago, I was pretty damn sure we were on the exact same page.
“I want to. But I won’t,” she says softly, shaking her head.
When was this decision made? And why wasn’t I a part of it?
“You won’t . . .”
“I won’t use you to forget all of my problems. Sex would just be a temporary fix, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me.”
My brain struggles to comprehend what she’s saying, which is difficult, given that all the blood in my body has rushed south.
