He moves his body back over mine and presses his lips to my collarbone, one hand gripping my waist, the other edging its way up my skirt again. He kisses my skin slowly as I tangle my hands through his hair, twirling the strands around my fingers. My eyes are closed, and I rest my chin on his forehead as I try to steady my breathing, because I’ve never been so excited and nervous in my entire life. The heat from his chest contrasts with my shivering as the tips of his fingers run along the lace that decorates the top of my underwear. My stomach churns in anticipation, and for a moment I feel like I might throw up.
He’s so experienced and has everything down to a T, and I’m so inexperienced and have yet to discover why guys find boobs so attractive. So many fleeting thoughts come and go, like when do I move my hands? Where do I put them? Do I wait for him to advance or do I make the move myself? Does he expect me to moan? Do I moan? I can’t possibly imagine myself moaning. Am I supposed to be doing something right now, like unbuttoning his jeans or kissing his neck? Who was the first person to ever have sex, anyway? John F. Kennedy was a total player, and if the beloved former president of our nation was able to seduce girls at his every whim, then I’m pretty sure that sex can’t be that bad. Those girls would not have thrown themselves into the president’s bed if sex was terrible. For a second I wonder why I’m thinking about our assassinated president. I bet if Lee Harvey Oswald was still alive even he wouldn’t be thinking about JFK while getting it on with his wife. And he freaking killed the guy.
Stop it, Eden.
Tyler’s lips trail kisses from my collarbone up to my jaw as his hands explore my body, one running from my waist to my face. He brushes my cheek with his thumb, and I can feel his affection through his fingertips and the way they leave a warm trace over my skin. I never want it to end, even when I’m losing my breath and tightening my grip on his hair. I don’t mean to, but I end up tugging on the ends as I arch my back.
Thankfully, Tyler leads me through it all, never once saying anything for the rest of the night. Even when I hesitate at one point, struck with worry over what he’ll think when he sees my body, he pauses, waiting until I swallow the nerves before continuing. And even when he’s undoing the clasp of my bra and even when he gets up to kick off his jeans and even when he’s fumbling around in his wallet, he never once says a word, but I like it this way. I like the deafening silence of the whole experience as I stumble my way through it with the person I’ve fallen headfirst for.
That’s what makes all of this better.
It’s because I’m with Tyler.
Not Jake and not Snotty Scotty, the guy from algebra class, but Tyler. The guy with the secrets and the weaknesses, the guy who trusted me enough to admit them all to me. I respect him for that. It took a lot for him to tell me the truth and now I only want him even more. I don’t want this to stop. Tyler and I…we shouldn’t be together and we shouldn’t be doing what we’re doing, because the bottom line is that we’re stepsiblings, no matter how much we wish we weren’t. I’m so attracted to everything about him, and I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m doing something wrong because of it. It’s not wrong. Where’s the blood relation? There isn’t one.
I just know that if anyone ever found out the truth about Tyler and me, we’d be frowned upon. I can’t even begin to imagine how we’d go about telling our parents. How do you break the news to a married couple that their kids are dating each other? How does all of this work?
There’s no going back from this moment. There’s no changing the way Tyler’s groaning against my ear, no erasing the fact that I’m digging my nails into his back, no forgetting the way our hips are rolling together.
Because Tyler might have told me his secrets, but now he has a new one.
Chapter 28
When I wake up later in the morning and take in the sight of the room around me, I don’t particularly feel different. You’re supposed to be a different person; you’re supposed to see everything in a new light. But I feel the exact same as I felt last night, except now I’ve got a headache. My body isn’t in mortal agony and I don’t want to cry, but I’m not exactly basking in joy either. It just feels like any other morning, a new day.
My throat feels dry, like I’ve been walking in a desert for a week and haven’t come across a water source yet, and my voice sounds raspy as I sit up and call out for Tyler. That’s another thing I thought would be different after you lose your virginity: I thought you would wake up next to the person you’re so infatuated with.
A moment of panic sweeps through my body. Maybe Tyler left. Maybe he abandoned me here, took off before I woke up, regretting what happened and running away. The condo is too quiet. It shouldn’t be. Tyler should be by my side like in the movies, where the actors wake up and the guy kisses the girl’s forehead or plays with her hair or whispers that he loves her, or just something.
I glance around the room and see the curtains are pulled over the small window again. I can’t even figure out if it’s morning or if it’s the middle of the night or if it’s two days later, because the room is dull and starved of light.
Scrunching my face up, I grip the sheets around me and glance back over to the mirror on my right. I’m completely bare. With a gasp, I yank the sheets up to cover my chest and stare at my reflection, horrified.