Page 48 of Only Temporary

TWENTY-ONE

I’m nervous. I may be even more nervous now than I was on our first date... The promise of what’s to come as soon as I knock on his apartment door—it’s terrifying.

On the night of our first date, once I saw him, it was almost effortless, and I didn’t think about it. When we kissed, it was like everything clicked, and I stopped worrying for once.

But what if that’s impossible this time? What if we don’t mesh? What if I fuck it all up because I don’t really know what I’m doing? I mean, I know I’m attracted to him—all of him. We managed to squeeze in one more video call this week, and believe me, I loved every inch of him that I got to see. But does that mean I can make him feel good?

I don’t know.

I’m way out of my depth here.

I’m freaking out. I lean my head against the door outside his apartment and try to steady my breathing, using all the tricks I’ve learned for when I’m amped up. But it feels like too much is riding on this.

So far, our relationship has consisted of him watching me screw up with my siblings over and over, one date that was interrupted by my youngest brother getting hurt, dress shopping, and then waiting around with me while my little sister had her first date. A real winner, that’s what I am.

Phillip—he can have anyone. Why would he choose to be stuck with me in my chaos?

Just as I’m about to talk myself out of this date, I get a text message and reach into my pocket to look at it.

Phillip: Hey, you on your way? Just want to make sure you’re safe.

I stare at the message, and an odd sense of calm washes over me. I’ve never had anyone worry about me. Ever. It’s strange but a good kind of strange.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and knock on his door. He opens it fairly quickly, and goddamn, does he ever have an off day where he doesn’t look so good? I’m guessing not.

“You’re here.” He’s smiling, and I can’t help but pull him to me, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him softly on the lips. I mean to keep it simple, just a hello kiss, but it quickly heats up.

He pulls me into his apartment and kicks the door closed, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and devouring me. His fingers go through my hair, and I don’t have to think anymore.

All the nerves float away as we kiss and make our way back to his bed. He strips my jacket off, and I remove his shirt—which is just a simple long-sleeve jersey tee. It’s soft, I notice absently before I let it fall to the ground.

I take the moment to study his torso. He’s not bulky by any means, but it’s clear he must work out in some type of way. He’s all lean muscle with very little hair. I’ve seen him without a shirt now, but it’s the first time I can really touch him and take my time, so I do. I let my hand drag over the hardened muscle of each firm pec and down his soft skin, trailing over the trail of hair dipping into his jeans.

I take note of his shuddering breath and the way his ab muscles twitch. And he thinks I’m perfect. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.

He’s patient when he undoes the buttons of my shirt and then slips it off me, his hands making a similar trail over my body. He seems to really like my arms though, taking a moment to brush over my tattoos with his fingers and down the vein in each bicep.

I move closer to him, bringing my mouth to his neck where I lick and suck—tasting him, afraid we might get interrupted again but not wanting to rush this. Who knows when the next time we’ll be able to be alone like this will be?

His head falls back on a soft sigh, and I’m going to assume that’s because what I’m doing with my mouth feels good. It’s my turn to tremble when I feel his hands between us, dragging over each of my defined abs. When he reaches my jeans, he’s quick to pop the button and lower the zipper, but he doesn’t push them down.

Instead, he teases the head of my hard cock that’s pushing up and out of my boxer briefs. This is about as far as we got last time, and again, I have to remind myself not to rush things.

I want him—in every way I can get him—but I’m more than happy to let him take the lead. He drags his finger through my slit—sticky with precum—and my brain goes offline as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on his finger.

His pupils blow wide, and then I drag his mouth to mine, tasting a hint of myself but mostly just him. “I need you so badly,” I gasp against his mouth.

“You have me,” he says, kissing me with fervor as he pushes my pants and underwear down.

I kick out of my shoes, falling to the bed to take off my socks and the rest of my clothing, watching him as he stands there watching me. I’m fully naked, neediness starting to claw at my insides.

He looks almost shy as his hands move to the top of his pants, and I freeze, my eyes on him, watching and waiting. “Please,” I say softly, pleading with him to continue.

He studies me for a moment before he undoes his pants and lets them fall to the ground. His briefs go next, and finally—he’s naked too. I stay sitting on the edge of his bed, and he remains where he is, seemingly at a standstill.

I don’t want to rush him—but it occurs to me he’s probably thinking the same thing, so with bated breath, I reach for him, pulling him to me using the fleshy cheeks of his ass.

He gasps, but goes willingly, falling onto me as I lie back on the bed, pulling his mouth to mine. We take our time, exploring each other’s mouths, our hands dragging over every inch of bare skin. It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with someone.

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