It Happened on Maple Street - Page 32

Running his hand along her stomach, he traced the edges of her bra, watching his hand touch her. And then he pushed his fingers up under the fabric. Tonight that wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted her bra off.

He reached behind her and fumbled for a minute or two because his fingers were shaky, but she was patient and he finally got the hooks undone. He didn’t immediately lift the material free from her breasts. He looked for her instead, finding her expressive blue eyes in the near darkness.

r /> “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded a little odd, but she smiled at him. “I want to feel you . . . touch me.”

It was all the invitation he needed. Practically salivating to see, to feel, Tim pushed her bra up under her sweater. He’d seen her nipples before, touched them, but he’d never had his mouth there. He lowered his mouth slowly, giving her time to stop him, but his lips met her breast without a hitch. He didn’t suckle. He sure thought about it, though. He kissed her there. A lot.

And tonight, he couldn’t stop. She was his. Wearing his ring. He hardly got to see her anymore. He had to do more and see more and touch more.

He reached for the button on her jeans. Slid it free. And then took down her zipper.

She wasn’t stopping him. He was going to take off her pants. And then his. But he kissed her first. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth, mimicking the act he needed.

He pushed her pants down enough, maybe an inch or two, to allow him easy access with his hand. Sliding inside her underwear, his fingers caressed her, touching her girl parts like he had on Halloween night. She moaned and moved and then that wasn’t enough anymore either. And so he opened her and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slid his fingers up inside her opening. She was wet and hot and perfect, and he was there. Inside her.

“Mmmm.” Her moan made him wild, and he started to move his fingers slowly in and out of her, unable to think beyond her wetness on his fingers.

Tara’s was the only body he’d ever been inside, and he couldn’t get enough of her secrets. Not ever, not in a million lifetimes.

With his free hand on her breast and his fingers still inside her, he raised his head and looked her in the eye. “Let’s make love.”

Tara’s eyes widened and closed, and the world stopped dead.

When she spoke, he didn’t recognize her voice. “I will do anything you want, except that. I have to be married to do that.”

She sounded like she was going to cry, and he pulled his fingers out of her.

“Come on,” he pleaded, with his penis urging him on. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

She shook her head. “I have to be a virgin when I get married, Tim.”

Something had changed. And it wasn’t him. She was serious. So serious she wasn’t there with him, feeling the passion.

“Okay, Babe. It’s okay. I won’t pressure you.”

“Promise me you won’t ask me that again. I can’t do that without marriage.”

Looked like they were done in that room. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said. “I didn’t mean to push you or offend you. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

She tried to sit up, and he moved, letting her go.

She fixed her bra, righted her sweater. He adjusted his jeans, getting smaller by the second. She wasn’t looking at him.

What the hell. He hadn’t meant to upset her. And didn’t want the night to just end. They still had a few hours they could spend together.

“You want to go get something to eat?”

“That sounds good.”

At least she wasn’t demanding that he take her home.

He got them to the only fast-food place in town before she could change her mind, ordering four tacos and a burrito.

Comfort food to take away the awkwardness that had fallen between them.

They ate in the car, still not saying much and, too soon, the food was gone.

Tags: Tara Taylor Quinn Romance
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