Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,4
they feel the same way about you until they get into your pants. That shit should be an Olympic sport for them.”
She was too young to be such a cynic about men and love in general, but then again, she had divorced parents and a rotating door of stepfathers, the latest of whom had tried to sneak into her room while she was sleeping. Willow had woken up and, of course, punched him in the face. Her mother had immediately kicked him out. She might’ve had bad taste in men, but she loved her daughter.
I, on the other hand, had two parents who at least pretended to love each other and a stable home life where I didn’t have to wake up with my right fist ready in case some creep is trying to touch me in my sleep.
I read romance novels and had a quiet, caring father, a brash, casserole making mother, and no real traumas in my life. So I found it hard to believe that Cody was just putting this on in order to get into my pants. If he wanted to get into a girl’s pants, there would be a line around the block of girls volunteering for that.
Nonetheless, I heeded Willow’s words. Or tried to. It was hard to be a cynic when the guy I’d crushed on my entire high school life was carrying my books for me, holding my hand and making out with me in my bedroom with the music turned all the way up.
He’d had plenty of dinners at my place, having won my mother over, plus she knew that his own mother was working nights and was absolutely aghast at the idea of a teenage boy having to fend for himself.
She’d never admit it, of course, but she was really starting to like my first boyfriend.
I’d officially met his mom as his girlfriend. She was soft spoken with a slight rasp to her voice, had Cody’s eyes and loved her son. They didn’t have a lot of money. Not something I had ever had to think about, but it was apparent in their small, one story, two-bedroom home on the outskirts of town. She’d put a lot of effort and love into it, though. Flowers in the front yard, a greenhouse full of vegetables and herbs in the backyard, bright, vintage sofas with cozy looking throws. It was definitely a feminine home.
With the exception of Cody’s room, of course. A room I’d spent a lot of time in. Since his mother worked nights, that meant we had an entire house to ourselves. There were many nights I lied and said I was studying at Willow’s, because no matter how much she liked Cody, no way was my mom going to approve of me being there without an adult present.
But I was.
We’d been boyfriend and girlfriend for four months.
It felt like forever and a brief moment at the same time.
Up until now, there had been heavy make out sessions. Over and under the bra action. His hand resting comfortably and possessively on my butt at parties we attended as a couple. He never left my side at those, and if he did, his eyes were always on me.
But tonight was different.
Not because he was pressuring me. He was so respectful it was almost getting annoying.
I was under no illusion that he was a virgin. He must have wanted more, second base at least. In fact, the hardness I’d felt against my leg during a few of our heavy make out sessions was evidence of that. And the tight way he held himself when he decided he had to stop... Yes, he wanted more, but he didn’t pressure me.
The problem was, I wanted more. I was terrified and worried I’d do it wrong, wouldn’t know how to be sexy and embarrass myself.
But it was getting out of control. That need. For him. For more than just making out and heavy petting.
Willow had already informed me that the guy usually lasted a minute. Tops. But I didn’t care about that. However it would be, I wanted it with Cody. Wanted everything.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered when things had started to get hotter than normal. My shirt was on the floor, and I was wearing a plain, pink cotton bra. Not sexy. Cody was also shirtless. He had a lean, muscled body that was most definitely sexy.
Cody had tried to pull that muscled, sexy torso away from me when the telltale hardness between his legs