Page 17 of Waiting For Ever
“Hi,” she says softly.
“You’re beautiful,” I say to reassure her, and I mean it. I’ve never been more captivated.
“You’re beautiful,” she replies, and I feel her smile.
“Hmf.” My half laugh vibrates my chest. “Sweet girl, what are you doing to me?” Tightening my grip, I hug her before I release her, then race my hands up and down her back and pull her even closer as she softly giggles.
“Nothing yet. But I think I’d like to.”
With a deep groan, I roll her onto her back and nestle my body between her legs. I can’t help but grind into her when her thighs part and rise to accommodate me and her long legs twine around me like a vise. Again, I’m struck by the way our bodies meld, like we’re made to fit together. “I’m all ears. Please tell me.” I kiss the corner of her lips. “Tell me what you’d like to do to me,” I all but beg.
Shy again, she dips her head.
I use my hand to lift her chin and force her to meet my eyes.
Half closing her eyes in a last-ditch protest to facing me, she looks up from under her lashes again and gives me that half smile.
I begin to wonder if she’s teasing me, playing coy.
“I . . . I don’t . . . Would you show me . . .” she trails off.
I freeze. “Ever, have you never . . . Are you a virgin?”
She nods against me.
“Ahhh . . . Are you . . . Did I hurt you? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.” Her reply is instant, though still timid. “And no, you didn’t.” Her fingernail traces the hollow heart tattoo on my chest as she adds, “In fact, I kind of liked it and can’t wait to do it again.”
My stomach flips at her words. The ice around my heart all but melted now. I reach my hands under her ass and squeeze playfully as I roll onto my back and take her with me so she’s straddling me.
She grinds into me, innocently I now know. Her body knows what it wants even if she’s never experienced it.
It’s almost my undoing. I pull her hips down to grind on me even more. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more in my life. More like a need than a simple want, my desire almost painful.
“I want to make you feel how you make me feel,” she says earnestly.
“Ever girl, if you only knew.”
“Show me then,” she repeats.
And I do, because I’m selfish and I want her. And I’m going to have her. Even if I don’t deserve her.
As if the gods agree I don’t deserve her, the phone on her nightstand lights up and dings in that instance.
“Shit, I forgot to put it ondo not disturbbefore I crashed.” She crawls off me and reaches for it.
I selfishly want to throw it across the room, but texts at two a.m. aren’t random. I’m sure she realizes that too. Deciding not to pout like an asshole, I put my arm behind my head and wait for her to read it.
Her face pales in the light of the screen as the phone slips from her hand and falls to the floor. Her hands cover her mouth, and she starts shaking her head from side to side.
I sit up and grasp her wrists, imploring her to look at me.
And she does. She turns that haunted gray stare on me and I feel my heart sink. Terror oozes from her pores. I press her into my chest with one arm and reach for the fallen phone with the other.
There’s no contact name on the text. Just a number.
Three texts in a row:
