Page 70 of Say You Will

She shakes her head with apfft.

“I’ll buy you a diamond so big you could see it on Google Earth.”

She rolls her eyes.

I purse my lips. “I’ll cook you breakfast every single morning for the rest of your life.”

She shakes her head, but her lips twitch.

I run my tongue across my bottom lip. “I’ll hand knit you socks without seams.”

She leans toward me, her eyes heavy with lust.

I’ve nearly got her. “I’ll buy the most comfortable, ergonomically correct dog bed ever made and all those little ramps that dachshunds need so Oliver doesn’t hurt his back. All over. Every single place we ever stay will look like Ramp City.”

She tries, unsuccessfully, to hide her smile.

“I’ll take you to see The Front Bottoms live, even though I tried listening to them myself, and I don’t see the appeal.”

She laughs and puts her hand over my mouth. “Stop.”

She pulls her palm away. “I think you should kiss me now.”

I do, and it feels like falling. I’ve lost my balance. There’s no up or down. There’s only the way she wraps both her hands in my damp hair and holds me to her so tightly.

I lower the blanket to get closer, and electricity shoots through me as I make contact with bare skin. I noticed she’d let her hair down and changed into a tiny T-shirt to sleep, but it’s ridden up. As I slide my hand down her hip to explore, along with tantalizingly soft skin, I discover a texture that’s become achingly familiar to me. She was planning to sleep in her panties.

She knocked on my door like this.

“I figured out why you were cold,” I say against her mouth, as I slide my fingers under the stretchy material cupping her ass. “Your panties have holes in them.”

She shivers, but gurgles with laughter. “They’re lace. There are supposed to be holes.”

“I need a closer look. So I can be sure I understand.”

I slide down her body. And then I’m between her slender thighs, her black lace-covered slit close enough for me to kiss. And I’m going to. First, I trail a finger down her seam. The fabric is damp, and she squirms against me. “Harder?” I ask. “Softer? How do you like to be touched?”

“That was perfect.”

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

When she doesn’t answer, I lift my gaze to hold hers. “I mean it. We can’t learn each other if we aren’t honest.”

“I’m nervous. I’ve never actually done anything like this before.”

Oh, my sweet darling.“Neither have I.”

“You’ve never had oral sex?”

“I’ve never done anything at all. I”—I place a sucking, exploring kiss on that fabric, right where my earlier touch told me her little clit is hiding—“am a virgin.”

“Ohh.” The word is a breathy exclamation of pleasure. “Me too. I was afraid.”

I lift my head, frowning. “Afraid of what?”

“To trust, I guess. It isn’t always logical.”

It may not be logical, but I understand.

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