Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Listen, I think this is one of the best things to come out of your brain, and let’s be honest, we both know it produces a hell of a lot of good. But I don’t want to jump headfirst into this without exploring it first.”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Cautiously, I wade into much more dangerous waters. “Are you…a virgin? Have you slept with someone before?”
She rolls her eyes, her patience with me just slightly tried. “I know what a virgin is, Blake. And yes, I’ve slept with someone before.”
A pang of jealousy hits my chest like a baseball bat, but seeing as I’m the one who started the trajectory of this conversation and it’s already tenuous at best, I make the decision to ignore it. I can tackle her horizontal scoreboard at a later date and time, when we’re so in love she finds my raging envy cute.
“Okay. And what about orgasming? Have you done that before?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant right now,” she sidesteps, her beautiful skin mottling with an embarrassed red. “Why does that matter?”
“Oh, Lex,” I counter gently, reaching a hand to her thigh and scooting it upward oh-so slowly. She jerks her gaze to my hand and watches with avid interest, her chest rising and falling faster with each inch it travels. “It’s important because if we’re going to have sex, you and I…I want there to be a connection. I want lust and hearts pounding and soul-touching intimacy. I want blinding, bonding pleasure for both of us, but more than anything in this world, I want it for you. And if I rush this or make assumptions or pretend it’ll all come together, no matter what I do, that won’t happen.”
“What are you talking about, Blake?” she asks, seemingly frustrated that I’m making this more complicated. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be a dog of Pavlov’s that doesn’t learn lessons. Just last night, I left her longing for more…and tonight, she’s here asking for sex. There’s no way in hell, heaven, or on this big ball of earth I’m going to rush this process. I’m going to move one step at a time until she’s so hooked to me, it’ll take surgery to separate us.
“I mean that there’s more to sex than sex.”
“Are you drunk?” she questions, narrowing her pretty blue eyes at me. “Because you’re making no sense.”
“No. I’m not drunk. And I’m only not making sense because you’re not paying attention. The act of sex itself is a culmination of other things. Of touch and taste and exploration and foreplay and closeness. It’s a finale, not an opener.”
“What does that mean, though? Are you saying no?”
I shake my head, squeezing the very top of her thigh, my fingers splayed on the denim fabric of her tight jeans at the line where leg meets torso. “I’m saying yes to the process, no to the act tonight. Tonight, I think I should touch.”
“Touch?”
“Touch,” I repeat. “Everywhere.”
Lexi swallows hard before nodding. “Okay.”
My hands are slow, but my heart is the opposite. This moment is the pinnacle of thousands of hours of thinking about what it might be like to touch her, feel her, and experience her. This giving in, this relinquishment of control by one of the smartest women I’ve ever met, this level of trust in me to handle things with consciousness and care—it’ll go down in my own personal history as a landmark point in time.
A core fucking memory.
Moving slowly, I sit down beside Lexi on the couch and drop my hands to her hips, pulling her toward me. I lift and settle her in my lap, sliding my hands to the top of her rain jacket and unzipping it slowly. Her beautiful blue eyes practically glow as she concentrates on my every move.
“You feel warm,” I tell her, the heat of her lap in mine a welcome and arousing sensation.
She nods, whispering, “So do you.”
Her jacket slides from her shoulders easily, and a plain white T-shirt cups her breasts underneath. Her nipples stand out, thanks to the change in temperature, and I have to restrain myself from leaning forward and taking them both in my hot mouth and sucking.
I lift her quickly off my lap and lay her back on the light-blue couch, and she gasps, her whole body shaking with anticipation. I lean forward and cover her body with my own, my lips skimming hers.
“I thought we were just touching,” she says, her whisper desperate.
I smile against her mouth. “We are just touching. My body is touching your body, and your body is touching the couch. Right?”
She nods, her head so close, her forehead brushes mine, and I slip out just the tip of my tongue to run the seam of her perfect, plump lips.
Her breathing escalates again, and I sink my weight into hers, my hand finding the tangles of hair at the back of her head. Her mouth searches for mine, and I give in to the request, melding our lips and taunting. Slow, steady, and soft, I kiss her like we have all the time in the world, like our mouths aren’t strangers at all, but long-lost friends.