Page 33 of No More Bad Boys
I can’t help noticing the weight of the bottle doesn’t seem to change much whenever he takes a turn. He’s either taking baby sips or faking it.
Before long I can’t eat anymore, and Icertainlyshouldn’t drink anymore. My head is buzzing pleasantly. I need to stop now before I cross over intocarry-me-to-the-car-Blakeyterritory and resemble Alissa far more than I’d care to.
As I re-wrap the remaining bread, Blake takes our empty food containers to a trashcan and disposes of them then comes back and sits beside me on the table.
We’re facing the river, both watching its slow, dark flow. The temperature has dropped, and there’s a slight breeze now.
Noticing my shiver, Blake puts an arm around me and draws me tightly against his warm side. “We should probably head back soon. You have class in the morning, right?”
“Yes.” I nod in agreement. But I don’t want to go.
Grocery shopping and eating like cavemen in the dark has been by far the best time I’ve had in a long time.
That scares me a little. It’s not because of what I’ve been doing, but with whom I’ve been doing it.
Ifthisis fun with Blake, anything would be. And even more frightening… I’m desperate for him to kiss me.
The moonlit night, the dark riverside park, the wine warming my veins while his arm around me and his body next to me warm the rest of me—all of it is combining to give me the flutters on a grand scale. I didn’t even know being with a guy could feel like this.
Justthinkingabout kissing him has me more turned on than doing the actual deed with Tyler ever did.
Blake must be feeling the same powerful pull because when I let my hand rest lightly on his leg, he turns to look at me, and his eyes in the moonlight are intense.
The way his chest rises and falls makes him look more like a guy who’s out for a jog than one who’s sitting still, barely moving a muscle.
“Cadence…”
“What?” I whisper.
“I don’t want to rush things… or scare you. But I have to do this…” He leans in, and places a finger lightly under my chin to tilt it up. I think for sure he’s going to kiss me, but he stops.
Please. Do it. “I’m not scared,” I prompt him with a lie.
And then he does. From the first moment of contact I’m in absolute pheromone-induced shock.
His lips are soft, warm, perfect. What hedoeswith them is perfect. And then his tongue pushes past my lips, and my mouth opens to welcome him.
As our tongues play and explore, I lift my hands and sink them into the silky curls of his hair. It feels just as good as I knew it would all those times I was dying to touch him.
I draw my hands down his face and over his cheekbones, enjoying the rough texture of his night-beard stubble. The muscles of his jaw flex under my hands as his kiss turns stronger, deeper.
Now I’m not content to sit beside him—my insides are restless, energized. I want more contact.
I slip my hands around his neck and pull myself against him as tightly as I can in our awkward position. His arm slides around my back, trying to help me get closer.
With a grunt of excitement, Blake leans forward, lowering me back over his arm and levering his body on top of mine on the picnic table.
When there’s a crunch and crackle behind me, he sweeps the bread bag off the table with gusto, seeming as anxious to feel me underneath him as I am to feel his weight on top of me.
I’ve got one leg extended, the other bent with my foot resting on the bench, and he settles into the cradle of my body, fitting absolutely perfectly there. Now I can feel all of him, feel his excitement, and it only increases mine. Our kisses grow harder, more intense.
For the first time in my twenty years of life, I’m awash in lust.
Maybe my friends who gushed about the wonders of sex weren’t making it all up after all. I mean, we’re both fully dressed and just kissing, and I’m feeling things that make me want to feelmorethings.
My plan of staying away from his apartment to avoid the issue of sex is failing spectacularly.
ApparentlyanywhereBlake and I are alone together, sex is going to be an issue.
