Page 45 of The Truth About Love

This is completely unchartered territory for us.

The most we’ve ever done together is making out and even then, I’ve always pulled myself back as soon as I thought things were going too far, not wanting to make Summer-Raine feel pressured to take it further.

We’ve been together for months and I’m yet to learn what the curves of her body feel like under my hands, or the softness of her skin beneath her clothes, or the sound of her breath as she comes.

But I’m about to discover it all.

Even if I don’t feel worthy of any of it.

My fingers skim her stomach as I gently raise the hem of her blouse. I watch as tiny goosebumps scatter across her skin, growing even more prominent when she sits up to help me pull the material over her head.

But I don’t allow myself to look at her.

Not yet.

I know that once I set eyes on her body, I’ll lose all rational thought. My self control will snap and I’ll be overcome with the ache to bury myself inside her. And then the night would be over before it had really had a chance to begin.

I’ve never had an issue with restraint in any of my previous sexual experiences, but then, I guess that’s because none of those girls were Summer-Raine. They didn’t set my soul aglow with yearning the way only she can.

So, I don’t take my eyes off of hers.

Not when I reach for the button of her jeans and they pop open with the faintest sound. Not when she arches off the bed so that I can roll them off her. Not even when her legs fall open to let me slide my body between them. Through it all, my eyes stay firmly fixed on hers.

“Auden,” she whispers, my name like an oath on her pillowy lips.

Her trembling hands tug on my shirt and I tear it over my head, throwing it in a heap on the floor beside the bed. She tentatively reaches for my chest and skims her fingers across it, scolding me with every featherlight touch.

It’s treacherous, this thing between us. This connection that we have.

The ache that fills me, the pain of craving her nearness, the desperate, wretched need to be as close to her as possible could start world wars, I swear it. You can roll your eyes and call it teenage melodrama, but I know as surely as I know my own name that there are no two people on this Earth more tightly tethered together than me and Summer-Raine.

I shuck my own jeans off then. And I can tell from the widening of her eyes, that the proof of my excitement, though covered by my boxers, is standing proud for her to see.

Leaning up on her arms, she tilts her chin to kiss me.

It surprises me, though it shouldn’t, that despite the foreignness and vulnerability of the moment, she still stands so tall, so self-assured. She’d be forgiven for feeling tense and apprehensive in a situation so new to her, but that’s just not Summer-Raine. Every new challenge or experience put in front of her she faces down with fortitude. It’s one of the many reasons I’m so crazy in love with her.

Reaching behind her back, she frees the clasp of her bra with one hand. The lacy straps fall over her shoulders achingly slowly until she’s completely exposed to me. And finally, because I just can’t help myself any longer, I allow my gaze to fall upon her body.

My God.

For a girl with such a small frame, her body has curves in the places only women do. Her hips are set wide, made more pronounced by the slightness of her waist. Her stomach, taught and lean, gives way to full, heavy breasts that swell with every inhale and her nipples, a kind of watermelon pink colour, are drawn tight with the evidence of her desire.

I need to know what they feel like in my mouth. There’s no point in fighting it, not when Summer-Raine seems as desperate for the touch of my tongue to her skin as I am. So, I lean forward, peppering soft kisses from her throat down across her chest, before tracing the roundness of each flushed breast with my lips. But the urge to properly taste her is too much. I can’t hold myself back from pulling one of those tiny rosebuds into my mouth and laving my tongue over it again and again before moving on to the other.

Bergamot and peaches. She tastes just the same as she smells and the discovery draws a deep groan from my lips.

She thrusts into my touch, her back arching off the bed as she chases the sensation she’s only ever felt at my hands. At my lips.

I’ll be damned if she ever experiences this with anyone else. The thought of another man seeing her like this is sickening. This here, her pleasure, her arousal, the flames blazing in her eyes, is all for me and only me. Just as it will always be, should things go my way.

I run my palms across her body, down her waist to her hips. She shivers with every caress, her body so beautifully responsive it’s as if she was made for me to touch her. My mouth follows the path of my hands, my lips brushing ever so softly against her skin as I shift myself down the bed to settle at the crest between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” Her voice shakes, her legs closing reflexively, but I keep them splayed open with my hands.

“Have to get you ready, baby,” I whisper, rubbing my face over her panty-covered pussy. “Trust me, okay? You’ll like it, I promise.”

She nods hesitantly, biting down on her lower lip as she finally relaxes her legs.

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