Chapter 16

Hawke

Huh?

I turn my head, my fingers paused on the controller as she rounds the sofa and comes into view.

My stomach drops, and my chest caves. Um…

Her dark hair spills around her, mostly swept over one shoulder and hanging over her right breast, and I drop my eyes, seeing black underwear, no jeans, and the tight, white shirt that doesn’t cover much below her belly button. Glowing skin, big, brown eyes, lips pink and clean of lipstick or gloss.

“It looked like it didn’t go well with your ex today,” she says, “so I was thinking…” She looks down, struggling to breathe. “Do you… I mean, would you like to…touch me?”

The controller slips out of my hand and into my lap, but I don’t move. I can’t speak.

Is she…?

Blood rushes between my legs, and she climbs over the arm of the couch and sinks into the seat. “I realize I’m not blonde. I’m not content on the sidelines, and I don’t fucking giggle,” she tells me, “but I’ve got girl parts and I’m sleeping down the hall from you, so it makes it easy.”

“I…” I don’t know what to say.

I mean, in a different situation, I might like to touch her. Sure. But I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea.

“No sex,” she says, turning toward me. “No pressure. We’re not dating. That’s not what I mean.”

I listen.

“You don’t have to worry about impressing me,” she goes on. “And I don’t have to worry about impressing you. We can just…practice.”

“Do you need practice?”

I feel like she’s doing this because she feels sorry for me. She’s trying to help, but I don’t want to use her.

And I definitely don’t want pity.

But she tells me, “I don’t really like sex.”

I narrow my eyes.

“I want to like it,” she says. “I want someone who explores. Someone who lets me explore. Someone who’s patient. And nice.”

Has she never had that? How have people treated her? I want to ask, but I’m not sure I want to know about some guy not treating her right.

“I just want to touch you.” She stares off, not looking up at me. “And maybe see if I like it.”

Is she lying? I feel like she’s thinking she’ll act like she’s the one who needs help when she’s actually just handling me.

But I don’t have time to voice my doubts before she’s reaching over and picking up the controller off my groin and tossing it onto the ottoman.

Rising up, she swings a leg over my lap, and I rear back, sucking in a breath as she straddles me.

Oh, shit.

She places her hands on my shoulders. “Turn off the game,” she says. “Turn on some music.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Do it now, Hawke.”

Yeah. Okay. I grab the remote control, press the Input button until I get to the home screen and find the music streaming app. A playlist starts, “Throne” drifting out of the sound system.

She holds my gaze, and warmth spreads underneath every inch of my skin. Her weight settles on me, the heat between her legs carrying through her panties, through my jeans, and over my thighs, down my legs.

God… My eyelids start to flutter, but I stop it.

She smiles just a little—sweet in a way she never really is—and presses her forehead to mine, holding me there.

“You can touch me,” she whispers, her breath falling on my mouth. “If you want.”

I…uh…

She shifts up, sliding her hands up my bare chest, grinding against me. Or maybe she just brushed me and didn’t mean to, but my cock stretches against my jeans, and I’m sweating already. I…

She drags her mouth across my cheek, and I don’t… I can’t. “Stop,” I say.

And she does. She stops.

Fuck.

I inhale slow and then exhale. It’s just going too fast. She didn’t give me any warning. Just walked in here, dressed in almost nothing, and…

Ugh, this is such a bad idea. I’ll fuck it up. I always do. What then? We’re starting to be friends. She’s going to leave.

I put my hands on her hips, about to move her off, but she stops me. “I just want to touch you.” Her temple rests against mine, the smell of my shampoo in her hair.

“I just want to feel you.” She hasn’t moved her hands a centimeter since I told her to stop. “I don’t want more.”

“Why?” Is she not attracted to me?

But she doesn’t falter. “Because what you want is right,” she replies. “It should be with someone you love. I wouldn’t take that away from you. I don’t deserve it.”

I go still, keeping my hands on her but not moving either of us.

“Just touching,” she murmurs.

Someone who’s patient. Nice.

Someone who lets me explore.

A lump stretches my throat, but I nod. “Okay.”

I trust her.

She brushes her lips across my cheek, and I hear her inhale through her nose as she moves slowly down to my neck. Sliding her hands up, she wraps one around my neck and slips the other up into my hair. Parting her lips, she runs them over my ear and then rises up on her knees, gliding her mouth over my forehead and making my blood race.

God, that feels good. I let my eyes fall closed as she comes back down and buries her nose in my neck and inhales deep.

“I thought you wanted to touch me,” I say.

She’s barely moved her hands.

But she says, “I am.” And she continues to move her mouth over my skin, feeling me with her lips.

Her chest rises and falls, heavier against mine, and I don’t know if that means she likes it or not. I can’t read her body, and I don’t want to ask.

I move. Digging my fingers into her waist, I hear her suck in a sharp breath, and I almost stop. Did I hurt her?

But then I see the goosebumps all over her thighs.

I smile to myself. “Get up,” I whisper.

“Hawke…”

“Get up.” I nudge her, and she pulls back, scrambling off of me and rising. I stand with her, seeing the alarm in her eyes as she backs away, but I pull her back in and spin her around.

I want to see what else gives her goosebumps.

I hold her hip with one hand and cover her back with my body, reaching up and touching her hair.

“Hawke…”

“Shhh.”

I thread a lock through my fingers, pulling lightly until I’ve reached the end.

Chills spread down her arms.

“That feels good?” I ask.

She nods. “I guess so.” She breathes out a laugh. “I like my hair touched.”

“What else do you like?”

She hesitates, and I’m glad I can’t see her face.

“Your skin on mine,” she says in a low voice.

She crosses her arms in front of her, taking the hem of her T-shirt and pulls it up, over her head.

My head feels like it’s floating ten feet above my body as I gaze down at her bare shoulders. She drops the shirt to the floor, waiting for me.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

My voice is barely audible. “Yeah.”

I only hesitate a moment before I press my body into her back and look down, over her shoulders.

Beautiful, tight skin covers her torso, her breasts pert and full, making my groin ache.

The brown flesh of her nipples pebbles and hardens, two points jutting out.

I put my hands on her shoulders, my thumbs running up the back of her neck. “Cold?” I tease.

“A little.”

Digging in my fingers, I drag my hands down her arms, feeling chills rise again. She falls into me, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

She likes it.

I wrap one arm around her waist and another around her chest and hold her tight, burying my face in her hair.

Everything, her gentleness and scent, her fear and innocence, I like seeing it.

I kiss her hair and feel her shudder, but it sounds like a sob.

I look down, seeing her chin trembling.

“What’s wrong?” I start to pull away, but she holds my arms to her.

“I feel pretty when you do that,” she whispers. “Like you like the way I look.”

I close my eyes. It doesn’t take much, does it? How could no one take their time with her?

She turns and slips her hands around my neck. “Pick me up.”

I smile, reaching down and grabbing the backs of her thighs. I lift her into my arms, her legs circling my waist.

Her breasts press into my chest. “Let me see,” I tell her.

I drop my eyes, and she leans back, her body coming into view. Her breathing turns shallow, her breasts rising and falling, and I’m dying to lay her down and touch her like she touched me. With my mouth.

“Take me to the couch.” She watches me as I stare at her, my heart starting to thump harder in my chest.

I want to.

But this is how it always is. I want it, and then I don’t, and I don’t want to see that look in her eyes. That look that says I’m not a man.

I…

I try to catch my breath, but everything’s on fire. My body, my head, my hands…

She leans into my ear. “I’m almost done,” she murmurs. “I just want to do one more thing.”

I exhale, swallowing through the dryness in my mouth. Okay.

I step back, her in my arms, and drop to the couch, right back where we started.

She leans back, letting me take in the view a second longer, and then… she explores. She presses into me, gliding her hands over my shoulders, down my arms, her eyes following the trail of her fingers as she traces the muscles and cords in my arms, one after the other.

I watch her study me like she’s learning what a man looks like for the first time, and then her eyes and hands go to my chest. She feels my collarbone, grazes her finger over my tattoo, and rubs her thumbs over my pecs before she sits up and lets me stare at her while she traces my abs, the slight tickle of her fingertips making me flex.

My dick swells so goddamn hard, and I gasp.

Fuck.

She climbs off, dropping to her knees between my legs and brings her mouth down on my stomach. Not kissing. Something like it, though. Pinching me so softly between her lips, up, down, over to the side of my torso, her hands moving up my arms and her head turning left to right, leaving no inch untouched.

I bulge, rushing with blood between my legs, and I know it’s pressing into her tits.

“Oh, God…” I can’t help it. I take her head, pressing her mouth to my stomach and watching her tongue dip out, licking me. “Again,” I tell her.

She does it again, and I blink long and hard, every fiber in my body about to explode.

“I can’t believe I’m licking the class president of Shelburne Falls.”

I laugh, dropping my head back.

She climbs up, wrapping herself around me and kissing my jaw. The warmth between her legs makes me ache.

She whispers over my skin. “Say ‘you make me hard, Rebel.’”

I grab her ass in both hands, grinding us together just once as I hover over her mouth. “You make me hard, Rebel.”

And I do once more so she feels it.

Circling my neck with her arms, she hugs me tight, squeezing me with her thighs and laying her head on my shoulder.

She’s done.

My dick hurts a little, needing release, but I know it’s time to stop. And I’m grateful she’s the one who stopped it, so I don’t have to feel guilty. I wrap my arms around her, too, holding her tight.

I close my eyes. Everything she did felt good. I didn’t do much for her, though. I want her to feel good.

“You have an amazing body,” she says, her head on my shoulder facing away from me.

I smile to myself. At least all the working out pays off. I have to do something with all of my pent-up energy. No one ever said that to me before, though. I think most girls feel like it would be shallow—like they only notice how you look, but it’s actually nice to hear.

If makes me feel pretty when you do that. Like you like how I look.

“I like the way you look,” I tell her.

“I like the way you look, too.”

We sit there a while, her holding me as much as I’m holding her while we try to cool down.

But I’m more relaxed than I thought I’d be. She stopped. Like she promised. There was no pressure. No agenda. No secret bet like some of the girls did in high school to see who could get me into bed first.

She didn’t want more anyway. I can stop.

I can explore. And then I can stop.

“Can I…” I start, feeling braver all of a sudden. “Can we do a little more? Can I see…more?”

I slip my hand inside the waist of her underwear, and her body goes rigid. She rises up, the heat gone from her face, and climbs off of me. She swipes her T-shirt off the floor and covers herself, lifting her defiant little chin.

“I’m, um…” She hurriedly pulls the T-shirt back on giving me one last nice view of her breasts. “No,” she states. “Not on the first date, Hawke. I’m shy.”

And I smile as she leaves, following her with my eyes as she disappears down the hallway.