he sat back on his haunches, his stare skimming across me like a stone skipping water. What was he thinking? Why was he staring for so long? His gaze left a shiver in its wake, and I forced myself not to cover up as he studied me with far more concentration than he ever showed his textbooks. I propped myself onto my elbows in a show of mock confidence and raised an eyebrow. “Approval ratings?”
His throat roped as he swallowed, working through the dryness. “Through the roof.” He grinned, removing his cargo shorts, and grabbed a square foil from his nightstand.
I nearly choked, laying there watching him move around, so comfortably naked. Pleasant warmth spiraled through my body, and my skin puckered as though a chill in the air had set off a chain reaction of goose bumps. But there was no chill. There was no breeze. It was just Tate and me and those cobalt eyes that didn’t leave mine for even a second. His sinewy muscles rippled with each graceful movement, and his cock pierced forward. I barely had time to register how glorious he was before he was on top of me once more, lowering his mouth to my breast. I cried out in a voice that was so unlike any sound I’d ever heard from myself before, I wouldn’t have recognized a recording of it. What the hell was that? His skilled tongue slipped over my nipple, and he varied the motion by scraping his teeth gently against the sensitive skin, ripping open the condom as he did so.
My muscles were so tense that they actually hurt. Every one of my nerve endings was alive and humming with every touch of his hands. I needed him, needed this. My body begged for release, and for once, I was going to listen to it. Give in to that pleasure. Sex wasn’t scary, but the intensity at which I cared for him was terrifying. I’d been with other guys, but the chemistry had never been so fierce and consuming as it was when I was with Tate. He didn’t try to rush things; he didn’t enter me yet, simply nestled his erection between my thighs and rocked against my clit.
I gasped at the shuddering pleasure, and he swallowed my moan, kissing me until I was left silent and aching with each pressure-filled thrust against me. Shoving my hands into his hair as he tried to pull away, I held him there against my mouth, needing that kiss to continue. Needing to feel more of his lips all over me. My eyes fluttered open, and I slowly ran my hands down the back of his neck, gliding my touch over the slick mounds of muscle and pebbled flesh before I raked my fingernails into his skin. With a body-trembling hiss, he shivered against the forceful motions of my hand.
I did that. I caused that reaction. Maybe all this time my inability to climax had nothing to do with my past. Maybe it had just been the wrong timing, the wrong guy, or not enough spark. Because nothing had ever felt like this before. Right here, in this moment, I actually thought I could come. My core tightened, and with every breath, I inhaled his light cologne.
Nibbling a trail down my stomach, he paused at a mole just beside my belly button, pressing a kiss there before moving down between my legs. I gasped, diving my hands into the sheets just as he ran his tongue over my clit, sucking it into his mouth entirely in a tortuously slow movement.
Oh, fuck. A jagged breath trembled in my stomach, and I threw a hand to the headboard, gripping it with white knuckles, as though it were a steering wheel and I had any control over where Tate was about to take me. I dug my heels into the bed and twisted the sheets between my fingers.
His index finger trailed a line up the inside of my thigh, circling my wetness, and with that simple touch, my body jerked in a reaction before it went completely limp. A pressure built inside of me like a balloon that was stretched with far too much air, ready to pop. And it—it was just too much. It was too much—everything. Feelings and emotion and tingles and, and—
No. I was so close. So, so close. A shaky laugh escaped me, and I quickly swallowed it down, pressing my palm to my eyes. “Sorry,” I whimpered. But