“Did you feel that?”
“Feel what?” I pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. Maybe the earth didn’t move for him like it did for me.
“Electricity.”
Okay, then again, maybe he did. “I thought it was just me.”
“Not just you. I think we should try that again, you know, just to be sure.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile as he leans in again. This time, his tongue traces my lips, and they part automatically, welcoming him. The kiss is languid as he explores my mouth. One hand still rests on the back of my neck, while the other wraps around my waist, holding me close.
I lose all track of time as he kisses me. He’s in no hurry as his tongue lazily strokes against mine. I try not to think about how much practice he’s had at this very thing and more. I hate the thought of someone else getting this side of him. I can’t control his past, but maybe just maybe, if I’m willing to take a leap of faith, I can control our future. It would take a lot of trust and communication. I’m not afraid to put in the work, but I don’t know him well enough to know if the trust will be there. We haven’t had enough time to build that foundation.
Griffin pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?” he whispers.
“So many things, Griffin.”
“Stand up for me,” he says, dropping his hand that’s resting behind my neck and tapping my thigh. I do as he says and watch as he moves to lie down on the couch, just like he did earlier today. He pats the spot in front of him. I move to lie down, and his words stop me. “Face me. I need to look into your eyes, and I’m not done kissing you.”
Doing as he asks, I lie down, facing him. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close, and places a kiss on the top of my head.
“Talk.”
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. If something is on your mind important enough to capture your thoughts, I want to hear it.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Hey.” His index finger rests under my chin, and he lifts my gaze to his. “There is nothing you can’t tell me. You know what? I’ll go first. I was thinking about how it’s going to suck to go weeks, maybe even months at a time without kissing you.”
“I was wondering how many girls you’ve snuck down here. How many you’ve kissed like you’re kissing me.” I pause. “And more,” I confess.
“None. I’ve never brought a girl down here. I told you that I don’t bring girls home. I’ve kissed my fair share and fooled around with a few, but none of them have been here, in my home. Only you.”
This time, I initiate the kiss. I press my lips to his, and he tightens his hold on me. He gently strokes my back while the other hand tethers me to him. Once again, we get lost in the moment. My hand slides under his T-shirt and cautiously explores the dips and valleys of his abs. I lose myself in the moment in him. When his hands slide to the button of my blue jean shorts, I stiffen. He immediately stops and pulls his mouth from mine.
“I’m sorry, Peyton. I got carried away.”
“It’s not that,” I rush to reassure him. “I just… I’m a virgin.” I blurt the words out. Just like pulling off a Band-Aid, I need to get it out there so he knows exactly what he’s getting into, or what he’s not, I guess I should say. I bury my face in his chest to hide my embarrassment. I know there is nothing to be embarrassed about, but the heat coats my cheeks all the same.
Both of his arms wrap around me, and he pulls me close. Our bodies are aligned, and I can feel his hard length pressed against me. He’s going to think I’m some kind of tease. I hate these kinds of situations.
“Peyton?” he says softly.
I don’t answer. I don’t even acknowledge him from where my head is buried in his chest.
“Come on, beautiful, please look at me.”
There’s something in his voice. I can’t quite explain it. It’s filled with understanding and something I can’t name, but whatever it is, it gives me the courage to lift my head and look at him.
“Me too,” he confesses softly.
“You too what?”
“I’m a virgin, Peyton.”
“What? No. No way.” I lean back to get a better look at his face. His eyes are staring into mine, and I don’t see an ounce of deceit in them.
“I am.” He pulls me back into his chest, and I go willingly as I process this news. “Remember when I mentioned my baseball coach was big on telling us to wrap it before we tap it. And yes, that’s exactly how he would word it. He went on to explain that those with talent tend to attract those who want a meal ticket or want to ride the coattails of fame and fortune. He put fear in us. He told us all kinds of stories about players getting piss-ass drunk and girls taking advantage of them trying to get pregnant. He told us to never let the woman provide the protection, that she could poke holes in the condom or lie about birth control.”