We stayed on the couch with just our top halves bare, touching, kissing, and talking very little until the rain slowly tapered off, and the clock on the wall said it was close to midnight.
“Are you ready to go to bed?” Nicole asked, blushing for the tenth time that evening.
“If you want,” I said.
“Okay.”
After watching Nicole gather up her shirt and bra, I followed her up the stairs to her room. We still took turns in the bathroom, which was both good and funny, considering what we both kind of thought we might maybe sort of be in here to do…if we decide to do it.
I sat on the edge of her bed in some soft lounge pants with images of soccer balls all over them. Nicole glanced at them and stifled a laugh.
“What?”
“I can’t believe those come in your size,” she snickered. “They look like something an eight-year-old would wear.”
“Eight…eighteen—what difference does it make what’s on your pants?”
“What’s in your pants makes a difference,” Nicole blurted out. Her eyes went wide and she slapped her hands over her face.
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I laughed.
“Come here,” I said, and I reached out to take her hands. I pulled her toward me, and she ended up straddling my lap and weaving her hands through my hair. I slid my hands up her back and played with the thin straps of the sheer camisole she wore. From this position, I had to look up at her, and she was a glorious sight to behold. “Beautiful.”
Her fingers grazed over my cheek and pushed my hair away from my face. I looked into her eyes and tried to understand her wordless statement as she stared down at me for a long moment then brought her lips back to mine.
Go slow, I reminded myself.
I wanted to lay her down on the bed, cover her with my body, and fuck the shit out of her.
Well…in some ways I did.
I also wanted to keep it slow and soft and gentle, and maybe just kiss her all night. Even though she was continuing to be the aggressor as far as what would happen next, she still seemed hesitant every time she did something new or different.
I didn’t know if it really made me a better person, and it probably didn’t, but I was always at least upfront with a chick about my intent. I never did the “I’ll be your boyfriend” or “Gimme a little, and I’ll take you to the dance” or any shit like that. I told them what I wanted, and they were either interested, or they weren’t. Most of them were using me just to say they had fucked me anyway, and I was just using them to get off. I wasn’t a fucking saint with the girls, but at least I had been straightforward. The guy Nicole had been with had tricked her, lied to her, and used her in a totally different way.
And it showed.
I’d been with shy girls and hesitant girls, especially virgins who weren’t sure what to expect, but none of them acted quite like Nicole did. She shivered sometimes or would take a deep breath like she was trying to center herself. I looked into her eyes, and there was more there than just shy hesitation.
She almost looked like she was going to cry.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I reached behind my neck, took her hands, and brought them back around me. I held them against my chest for a minute and then brought them up so I could kiss her knuckles. I let go, and she gripped my arms hesitantly; then she nodded.
“You sure?” I brushed my fingers over her cheekbone and kissed her softly. “Remember, we’re just gonna see what happens, right? I’m not…I mean, you know I’m not expecting anything, don’t you?”
“But you’ve…” She stopped and looked over her own left shoulder.
When I reached up and tilted her head back so she was looking at me, I could see tears in her eyes.
“What is it?” I asked, starting to freak out a little. Did she think I was pushing her into this? Did she really not want to? Had I hurt her somehow? “What did I do?”
“You have…experience,” she said softly as she looked away again. “I mean, it sounds like you’ve slept with most of the females in the senior class and half the juniors…and a lot of them knew what they were doing when they were with you…”
“So what?”
“So what?” she looked back at me, and one of the tears escaped. “So I don’t think I can live up to those expectations. I’m not…that good at it. I mean, I’ve only been with…well, with…”