Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

“You’ve only had it once,” I manage, my voice sounding nothing like what I’m used to.

He smiles at that. “Excellent point. A problem I intend to remedy.”

His fingers play over me as he dips his head and presses his mouth to the inside of my knee.

Panic seizes me as I realize where he’s headed. I tug my hand free, tangling my fingers in his hair as I try to sit up.

He settles me with a hand against my belly, but his gaze is questioning.

I shake my head, a little frantic. “Please don’t do…that.”

His eyes narrow slightly as his tongue touches his lower lip. “I want to taste you.”

My thighs tighten, but I shake my head even more frantically. “I don’t want that.”

“Bullshit,” he whispers, his thumb nudging my clit and rotating it in a slow circle.

I cry out, but I don’t release my grip on his hair. I’m not about to tell him that no one’s ever gone down on me before, and though I’m intrigued, to say the least…I’m just not ready.

I can’t explain it, and it’s not rational, but there it is.

I move my feet, hooking my legs around his waist and pulling him to me as I sit up, reaching for his shirt.

He studies me for a moment, as though trying to figure out what I’m about, but then he cooperates, reaching one hand around to grab a fistful of shirt at his back, pulling the garment over his head and tossing it aside.

I bite my lip as I run my hands over him, intrigued at the way his eyes clos

e when my nails rake over his nipples.

I rain kisses over his chest, pausing only long enough to let him pull my dress off me, moaning as his hands cup my breasts, lifting their weight before capturing my nipples between thumb and finger, twisting them with just the right amount of pressure.

I can barely think. My brain is nothing but static.

It’s never been like this. Not even close. Granted, I’m not experienced, but I know enough to know that this sort of frantic breathlessness isn’t the norm.

My hands grapple awkwardly with the button of his shorts. He helps, opening them with one hand, and I shove both shorts and boxers over his hips before wrapping a greedy hand around him and pumping once.

I pull him closer as I scoot toward the edge of the table, spreading my legs and rubbing him against me.

“Jesus,” he breathes. “Slow down—”

I guide him lower, my intention unmistakable, even though I don’t know where this is coming from. It’s the same as it was last night, as though this hidden sexy part of me has been drawn out. By him.

Only him.

“I need a condom,” he growls.

“Pill,” I counter.

Noah groans but pulls back slightly. “Honey, you didn’t even ask if I’ve been tested.”

Shit. STD risk and all that. Told you I was bad at this.

“Oh,” I say, feeling embarrassed. “Are you—”

“Tested. Clean,” he says.

“Same,” I whisper.