Page 92 of All I Have Left

Sliding his knees apart, he lowers his body to mine. Our chests come together, both of us more nervous than you’d think. But then again, I don’t feel nervous. Instinct and familiarity have kicked in.

He presses his lips to mine, slowly at first, his tongue sliding against my lips. My lips part and I sigh as his tongue touches mine. I don’t know why it feels awkward now. Maybe because we’re not drunk, we’re not avoiding any conversations. It’s just us, bare to each other and vulnerable. Waiting for the other to make the first move. Funny enough, it’s a lot like our first time.

When his mouth eases from mine, I run my fingers from his shoulder to his temple. “Do you remember our first time?”

He pulls back, his dark eyes intense. “Yeah,” he croaks, his voice rougher than before. “Why?”

I search his face. “Just curious.”

He releases a slow breath. “Do you?”

“Every single minute of it.”

His lips quirk at the corners, his body trembling above mine. Sighing, his forehead leans into my shoulder. “Goddamn it. This is frustrating.”

“What’s wrong?” Fear pricks my skin. Suddenly I wonder if we’ve rushed this too quickly for him. “We don’t have to do this.”

Lifting his head, he stares at me in disbelief, then says, his brow furrowed in almost anger, “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Then what is it?”

I don’t get my answer. Immediately his mouth is on mine, harder this time. At first, I’m caught off guard by it, but when he whispers, “It’s hard to draw a line between wanting to fuck you.” He kisses my jaw. “And make love to you.”

His logic makes sense. I imagine it’s not easy to judge how we’re supposed to navigate this. But hearing him say “fuck me” sends a thrill through me I’m not expecting. “Do whatever it is you want,” I whisper, my breaths heavy when I feel him at my entrance now, the head of him putting pressure on my opening.

I see it on his face, like maybe I didn’t say what he wanted because he winces. I exhale and watch his face, his reaction to what happens next, and if he will. My heart beats in every part of my body, my pulse throbbing between my legs.

Grayson exhales heavily and leans to the right, his weight shifting. His shaking hand moves between us. His gaze scrolls over my face as he says quietly, “I love you.” His expression is sincere. His words even more so because this guy, his words mean everything. They’re true and honest.

“I love you.” My heart thrashes in my chest and with a grunt, he pushes forward. I want to cry, to fucking moan, but all I can do is pant. I feel his lips next, his breath hot against mine as his mouth devours mine. His palms slide down my hips, over my thighs and to my knees, widening my legs.

“So which is it?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking me or making love?”

His thrusts come quicker, driving deeper than before. “What do you think?”

I hold his face in my hands. “I think I just fell in love with you more.”

He collapses on top of me, pressing his face into the curve of my neck. “Goddamn,” he grunts. His hips jerk, a tremble to his movements.

My body gives in to his completely. His tongue dives deeper into my mouth and I swallow his groans. Gasping, his mouth falls from mine and his lips barely touch mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He moves slower, his breathing hard. Our chests move in uneven unison, and I can feel his lips form a smile. “I’m trying so fucking hard not to come.”

“I think that’s what’s supposed to happen.” I wiggle underneath him, smiling, and he laughs into my neck, the vibration of it so familiar. My hips grind into him, deepening the connection.

And then it happens, a spark through the sky lighting up the room and I realize what’s happening outside. They’re lighting the rest of the fireworks they brought, a spray of color—red and blue—lighting the dimly lit room.

Immediately, at the first crack and a loud resonating pop that vibrates the windows, Grayson tenses, his body hard and rigid at the sound. Leaning into his arm that’s bent beside my head, his movements speed, his face buried in the pillow. His other hand moves from my hip to the pillow where he fists it. It bunches behind my neck, uncomfortably but I realize quickly that him squeezing that pillow is better than hurting me. Not that I think he would, that’s not Grayson, but I’m thankful he recognizes the shift in his mindset.

Staring up at the ceiling, my mouth meets his shoulder and then his ear. “It’s okay,” I whisper, holding onto him tightly.

He moves desperately, driving into me faster than before. Wematch each other’s pace, colliding in sync with breaths and movements, moans and cries, but I know it’s not going to last like this.

“Fuck,” he breathlessly grunts in my ear, his voice throaty and sexy. It’s almost a pained sound that leaves his lips. I realize very quickly that it is a pained sound. He’s shaking so badly that his body is vibrating to the point he can barely keep from collapsing against me.

With every crack from the fireworks outside, his body reacts more intensely.

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