Out of Character (True Colors 2)

“Milo?” Jasper’s voice was all husky and low and made heat unfurl low in my gut. “I really don’t want the chair bed.”

“Good.” I interrupted him with another pass of my mouth, putting all the warmth flowing through me into the kiss.

“Wow. You make me feel like I chugged a two-liter of soda.”

My head tilted as I considered him. “Like you might puke or like you might never sleep again?”

“Definitely not puking.” He laughed and tugged me the rest of the way to the bed. “More like my heart won’t stop racing.”

“Mine either,” I admitted as I sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “But, like, I’m the one who should be worried. You’ve done this before.”

“Not with you.” His eyes were so serious that my nervous laugh died in my throat. Instead, all I could do was press another kiss to his mouth and hope he understood how much his words meant to me. How much he meant. And maybe he got the message because he kissed me back with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. Eventually we tumbled backward. Between the sheer number of pillows and the narrow width of the bed, there wasn’t a ton of room, and he ended up half on top of me.

“This okay?”

“Uh-huh.” In fact, if it got any more okay, I might seriously expire of happiness, but I couldn’t find all those words and simply kissed him instead. He used his tongue again, which let me do my new favorite thing on earth and mimic him. Every time his tongue brushed mine, my body surged like I’d scored on a penalty kick, crowd roaring, adrenaline spiking.

I’d waited for this. For him. Even if I hadn’t quite known why, I’d waited. I’d denied myself this because deep down I didn’t think I deserved it, but when Jasper kissed me like this, I felt…worthy. Like this whole trying-to-be-a-better-person thing mattered and like it might truly be possible. Because anything that felt this good had to mean that I was doing something right.

He kissed my jaw and my ears and my neck, and I did the same for him until we were both breathless and moving together, him pressed tightly against me now.

“I want to touch you.” He rested his hand on my chest, right over my pounding heart. “Can I touch you?”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you want.” And I meant it. I had no agenda of my own other than to be what he wanted, what he needed.

However, this was Jasper, and he didn’t take, even though I offered. His generous nature probably had no clue about how to be selfish. Instead, he gave. More kisses, now accompanied by touches which were at first gentle and barely there grazes of his fingertips and then bolder. Pausing to meet my gaze, he waited for me to nod before snaking a hand under my sweatshirt and past my T-shirt to find bare skin.

I groaned. Or maybe he did. I was losing track.

“I want to do it too,” I whispered.

“Oh, yeah.” He sat up enough to pull his hoodie off, and I took the hint and did the same. Game on. My body hummed, that rush of adrenaline back a thousandfold when our bare torsos connected. We kissed and touched and explored, and not even the roar of a packed stadium could compete with how good he made me feel. His little groans and gasps were the best reward ever, making me feel both deeply connected, rooted to this place and time, and weirdly restless.

“Want…” I wasn’t sure precisely what, only that I needed in a way that I’d never needed before.

“Yes.” He didn’t seem to be in the same hurry as me, giving me another leisurely kiss.

“Help me out here,” I groaned when he let me up for air. “This is the part where I don’t know what comes next.”

“You, hopefully.” His grin was downright wicked, and I loved that he could somehow still tease while we were both so wound up.

“You first.” Now I knew exactly what I wanted. Sure, I wanted pleasure for myself, but more so for him. I wanted to see, to touch, to experience, and I wanted all of it for him.

“This?” He skated a hand across my waistband, then over my straining zipper.

“Uh-huh.” I repeated the gesture to him, loving how it made him groan low and soft. Our slower pace evaporated in a cloud of good and better and best sensations piling on each other as we explored and touched. Faster kisses now. More urgent hands. We shimmied out of our jeans, some silent agreement driving us on. Suggestions, then requests, then demands were whispered between us. He touched me and I touched him, and somewhere in between endless kisses, I discovered that I did know what to do after all.