Page 112 of Always Meant for You
I roll my hips. “Yes.”
“Put your hands above your head.”
I lift my arms, my body open, my dress bunched high. He eases one finger beneath the lace, then two. When he finds me wet, his mouth curves against mine.
He doesn’t need words.
He knows how badly I want him.
He cups me in his palm, fingers wide and sure, stroking in a rhythm that feels devastatingly deliberate. Slow at first, then deeper, more certain, every pass sending sharp, exquisite waves through my core. The pressure coils tighter. I arch against him,chasing that perfect friction, desperate for more of it, more of him.
I scramble for something solid, the blanket, his shirt. Anything to hold on to. Anything to keep me grounded. Each stroke hits with unrelenting precision. I’m spiraling toward an abyss that feels too big to contain.
He doesn’t let up.
He murmurs my name against my cheek, his voice low. I break with a cry that spills into his mouth. He kisses me through my release, soft lips, steady hands, holding me. He stays close, body braced above mine, his forehead pressed to my temple, breathing hard.
“I want you,” I whisper, the words trembling from somewhere deep and aching. “I want to feel all of you.”
He stills.
Then slowly, he lifts his head and brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. That smile, the quiet one that undoes me every time, pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Do we need protection?” he asks softly.
My fingers tighten on the hem of his flannel. The warmth surging through my body gives way to a swirl of panic I can’t calm, not because I’m unsure, but because I’ve never spoken these words out loud.
“I’m on the pill,” I say, my heart thudding.
He nods. “I’ve got a condom in my wallet.”
I reach up and press my palm to his chest. “Cal, I want this. I do. But I need to tell you something first.”
He goes still, his gaze searching mine.
I glance away. “I’ve never slept with anyone.”
His breath catches. “You’re a virgin?”
My chest squeezes. “It sounds worse when you say it like that.”
He pulls back slightly. “I thought that when you moved to the city you . . .”
Anger and humiliation tear through me. “You think I slept around? Gave it away the second I stepped off the bus?”
He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I sit up slowly, the rush of cool air against my skin a stark contrast to the warmth we just shared. “I didn’t plan to be a twenty-five-year-old virgin. I went on dates. I had chances. But it never felt right.”
His gaze drops. He nods, but it’s tight and distant. I know what’s happening. He’s retreating.
“You don’t want to sleep with me?” I ask, hating the shake to my voice.
He doesn’t answer. He’s in his head, overthinking, putting up walls.
“Tell me, Cal. Please. Don’t leave me in the dark.”
He stands abruptly and paces a few steps before stopping, facing away from me. “We should head back.”
