For Her (The Girl I Loved Duet 1)

Amber has been in my room before, but it’s different now. It’s different because I know where this is going and I’m nervous. I’m sure I’d get made fun of for admitting that to any guy at school, but I’m nervous. I don’t want to hurt her. I want it to be good for both of us, and I don’t want this to change anything between us for the worse. Which it could if I’m really bad at it.

I’m standing in the middle of the room, and Amber sits on the edge of my bed. She grins. “Did you suddenly get scared of me.”

I swallow. “Scared of you? No. Scared that I could mess up or hurt you? A little, yeah.”

“Come here.” She pats the bed beside her, and I sit with her. “I want to be very clear. I didn’t come over here because I felt pressured, and I’m not worried about it being perfect. I want to be with you, and since no one’s here, I assume we have all night.”

“Yeah,” I swallow again.

“Then relax, Peter, and kiss me.”

So I do. This I know. This is familiar and perfect and comforting, but my body knows what’s coming. Or at least hopes that it will be coming, and so I’m instantly hard, and so ready. But Amber is right, we have all the time in the world, and since we do, I’m going to take my time.

Amber reaches down, her fingers toying with the edge of my t-shirt. She’s done that before, tucking her fingers into my belt while we kiss, but she’s never moved to take off my shirt. Now she does, fumbles, and starts giggling against my lips.

“What’s so funny?”

“In the movies they make the multi-tasking look so easy,” she says. “But I’m not sure I could even take my own clothes off while I’m kissing you, let alone yours.”

I pull my shirt up over my head and toss it across the room.

“Much better,” she says, staring at my chest. I realize it’s the first time she’s seen me without a shirt. It’s been fall and winter the entire time we’ve known each other. She never had the chance to see me.

It strikes me then. Naked. Amber is going to see me naked, and I’m going to see her. Holy shit.

She reaches out to touch me, and I shiver. I’ve got an okay body, and I know that. But having her touch me makes me wonder what she thinks of it. What is she thinking when she looks at me?

Her fingers drift down my stomach and across my abs, stopping just short of my belt. She glances up at me through her lashes, like she’s asking permission, and I nod. When her hand falls on my jeans, I moan. Even the pressure through the fabric is…glorious. I could see stars, and if I let myself, I could come right now. I already know I’m not going to be able to last long when we actually…have sex. So like hell am I going to let that happen right now.

Amber’s eyes are wide as she watches me take off my shirt, and then look down at my dick through my jeans. I’m not making any moves to hide it the way I usually do, and she looks fascinated, mesmerized.

I wrap my hand behind her neck and pull her in to kiss me again. I need to be closer to her. I like the way she’s stroking my back and how it feels like every touch of her fingers sinks through my skin straight to my bones. It’s amazing. I never thought it would feel like this and we’re barely even started.

I pull back just far enough so I can reach between us, grab the hem of her t-shirt. She sucks in a little breath and bites her lip, but she raises her arms above her head and lets me take it off.

I think I might pass out, because any blood I have left is rushing south. She’s wearing a deep blue bra—her favorite. I know because I’ve seen the strap peeking out from under her shirts, and I once teased her about always seeing her blue straps. It’s lacy and her skin looks even paler in contrast. The urge to touch her is overwhelming, but even though she said she wanted this, I want to ask.

“Can I—” My throat is dry and my voice dies out. “Can I touch you?”

Amber reaches out and takes my hand, pressing it against her breast. She’s both soft and firm, and I think this is what heaven must feel like. I’ve heard buys at school talk about their preferences: tits or ass. I can now say with complete certainty that I’m a tits man.

I’m kissing her again and I’m not sure how it happens, but we’re laying down and she’s underneath me and the feeling of her skin on mine and the scratch of the lace against my chest is driving me wild. I had no idea I could be this sensitive, and I’m wondering what will happen when the rest comes off.