“Sorry,” I say, sliding off his lap. His hands move to my hips, keeping me in place.
“Don’t apologize. You make me crazy, Starlee Jones. Absolutely fucking crazy.”
My heart races and my body…well, it’s reacting like his. A shiver runs down my spine and he pulls me close for another kiss. This time it’s heated, desperate. We’ve been tip-toeing around this all night.
What if it’s the last time?
We can fight it but may lose. What we do have control over is this moment, and without letting my mouth leave his I push at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin. And he pushes back at mine and when his hands touch my flesh, it feels so good.
He stops, breathing heavy, and I brush the hair out his eyes. “We don’t have to…” he starts, but I shake my head.
“I want to.”
“Yeah?” His mouth quirks in a grin.
“Yeah.”
With that he lifts me off the couch and grabs my hand, leading me across the cabin. I follow him into the room, to the bed and under the covers.
I let him show me what it’s like to be loved by a man and in return I find the swell of emotion I’d been told to avoid, to fear, and I do the scariest thing of all.
I love him in return.
22
The cabin fills with light and I cover my face, wondering who thought all these windows were a good idea. Then I remember where I am and whose cabin this is and feel for the warm body next to me.
His body is gone. The sheets still warm.
A curse from the kitchen tells me where he is.
I dress, taking a moment to look at myself in the mirror. Isn’t that what all newly-non-virgins do after they’ve had sex? I’m a cliché, which provides me with the strangest thrill.
I’m a normal teenager who had normal sex with my normal boyfriend.
Oh shit.
I have four boyfriends. There was no way I was going to do this right.
I tug my hoodie over my head and walk to the kitchen. Dexter’s standing over the coffee maker. A can of coffee is open on the counter.
“Hi,” I say, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. The last time I looked at Dexter we were snuggled under the covers, breathing heavy. I glance at his hands. They’d been all over me. All over. Me.
He turns and smiles. “Hey. I’m just trying to figure out how to work this machine.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Babe, you drink caffeine with a pound of sugar every morning. We need to get you your fix.” He pushes something on the machine and it beeps. “Ah-ha. Got it.”
He leaves the project and walks over, kissing me on the forehead. “Thanks for last night,” he says quietly. “Keeping me out of that fight, bringing me here…everything else.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, leaning my head against his chest. I hear his heartbeat thrumming under the cotton. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he says, glancing down. A line of concern slashes between his eyes. He leads me to the couch and I grab the blanket on the back. We snuggle underneath. “What’s up?”
“Last night was great—”
“But…”