Page 36 of At First Smile
“Please…don’t stop.”
“You don’t need to beg, luv.” I move against her writhing body.
Thrusting harder, I fuck her through our clothes. Her needy whimpers telegraph that I’m hitting her in just the right spot. Breath stuttering, her nails bite into my shoulders.
“Oh, god,” she cries, a gentle shudder ripples through her, halting her movement beneath me.
I comb my fingers into her hair and soak in the sight before me. A sated smile stretches across her face. The pink that rouged her cheeks invade the rest of her sun-kissed skin. A satisfied glossiness glazes her honey eyes. Her legs splay on either side of me, and arms hang loose around my neck.
I roll over and pull her into my chest and she nuzzles limply into me.
“I should have said something earlier, but you in my arms doesn’tfeelright?—”
She tips her gaze to me.
“–itisfucking right.”
She moves her hand to my shorts, the bulge still very visible.
I wrap my fingers around her wrist, gently pulling her away from where she’s wandered. “Let me just hold you.”
“Are you sure?”
My cock may hate me, but the only thing I want is to hold her. “Very sure.”
“Okay.” She snuggles in deeper.
“I should have kissed you before.”
“After ourmaybedate?”
“Yes.” My brow creases. “And at the waterfall. In the lobby with Pisser. On the plane. At Tim Hortons. Every time I thought of kissing you, I should have done it.”
“That’sa lotof kissing.”
My fingers trace her lips. “I plan on doing way more kissing than that.”
“I may need to invest in Chapstick stock,” she teases, stifling a yawn.
Chuckling, I scoop her up, untuck the duvet and fold it over us. She settles herself into my nook, using my shoulder as her pillow.
“Why didn’t you kiss me before?” A sleep-drunk quality coats her question.
I let out a long breath. “I was scared.”
“What scared you?”
“Disappointing you.”
Her eyes flutter open, and her hand strokes my cheek. “Why?”
My gaze moves from her to the ceiling. The antique-looking fan’s blades cut through the dimly lit room sending thin lines of shadows reaching across the ceiling like grasping fingers.
“I’ve disappointed a lot of people in my life. My mam. Brothers. People I care about. It’s funny, though. They have expectations for me but at the same time they’re never surprised when I don’t meet them. It feels like their disappointment isn’t in that I don’t live up to their expectations of who I am, but in themselves for believing I am someone I’m not.”
“That’s not funny ha ha; that’s funny sad.”
“I know.” I brush back her hair, rubbing the silky strands between my fingers.
