“You’re a dream come true,” he breathed, echoing my earlier thought about him, his fingertips stroking over my bare skin.
My eyes brimmed with tears at the wonder on his face—hadn’t this boy seen a hundred naked girls by now? I was horrified he might notice, but he was riveted in his examination. His gaze followed that tantalizing, dragging caress, every inch of my skin flaring up in response. As pleasure engulfed me, the breath in my lungs caught and released, and I closed my eyes, fists white-knuckle tight on my bedding. My hips twisted and my shoulders rolled against the mattress. I couldn’t lie still.
He moaned in response, his voice a growl of frustration. “My God, Pearl. You’re going to kill me.”
“How?” I asked, confused. If anyone would be rent in two at the end of this, it would be me. He moved between my legs and I stiffened, thinking, Condom?
He rose above me, turning my face with his fingertips. “You’re too smart a girl to have unprotected sex—and I know that. I’ll take care of you.”
There were multiple promises in those words. I was naked on my bed with Boyce Wynn—but he was going slow and promising to be responsible and hadn’t even kissed me yet. All my fantasies were being flipped on their heads.
“Kiss me?” I whispered.
He angled closer until his chest rested lightly on mine and then dragged himself higher, brushing my breasts with an incendiary friction that zipped straight to my core and forced a gasp from me. His mouth hovered inches over mine, his breaths deep while mine were shallow, erratic. I vaguely registered the feel of him as other—his body hard and heavy though he balanced his weight away from me.
Elbows on either side of my face, he stared into my eyes for a long moment before lowering his mouth to mine. Careful and measured, his kiss was everything I remembered. And then the first stroke of his tongue blazed through me, exploring the seam of my lips. I gasped again, drawing him in, my tongue swirling around his. Withdrawing, he teased my lips until they craved the spear of his tongue sliding between them.
I arched against him, wanting more, and he pushed back, his eager kisses plundering my willing mouth until I could scarcely breathe.
“God, Pearl,” he panted, “you’re gonna make me blow without being inside you—and that would be a goddamned shame.”
“Night table drawer.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He was back in less than a minute, sheathed and ready, kissing me until I sank my nails into his back, and then he positioned himself and drove into me.
I screamed. Tears streamed from the sides of my eyes and into my hair, but I bit my lip and tucked my head to his shoulder, mortified. I’d asked for this. Wanted it. I’d known it would hurt—Melody and I had discussed sex a million times—but holy hell. What she described as discomfort felt more like being stabbed with a flamethrower.
Boyce held himself utterly still. “Shit.” He started to withdraw and I clutched his arms, nails digging into his biceps, because movement equaled a burn like a lit match. “Pearl…” His voice was pained. “Are you—?”
Crap. So much for a stealthy loss of my V-card. “I was,” I mumbled, feeling every bit as dumb and inexperienced as I was.
“But— That assmunch you dated junior year—” He stopped, because I’d just proved that rumor untrue. “That sexy come-to-my-bedroom look— The striptease without so much as a kiss— You have condoms in your nightstand for fuck’s sake! I thought— Jesus Christ. How was I supposed to know—” Again he began to withdraw and I cried out, equal parts pain and embarrassment. He froze. “What the hell, Pearl?”
How could I ever explain this? Oh, you know, I’ve been in love with you since I was five and I wanted you to be my first. That’s all.
No, no, no.
The inferno below appeared to be subsiding, kind of. I took a deep breath and pulled my face from his shoulder, determined to be bold and fearless. The last thing this fiasco needed was for my declaration to be delivered in a squeak. “I’m going to college in three months. And I wanted this to be with you.” Matter-of-fact. Logical. Very Pearl Frank. “Is that not okay?”
His freaked-out expression melted a bit, but his grimace lingered. “Why me?”
I licked my lips. “Because you want me. Not just this. Not just something to fill the time. You want me. You have for a while.”
His brow relaxed and his mouth pulled up on one side. “I’m not exactly a subtle guy.”
In spite of everything, I laughed. “No, you aren’t.” Swallowing lightly, I whispered, “I thought maybe you wouldn’t have done it at all if you knew…”
Leaning to brush his lips against mine, his indignation melted away. “Hate to spoil your puzzling opinion of my principles, but you thought wrong. I wish you’d have told me. I could’ve made it so much better if I’d known.” His warm breath fanned against my throat.
“So make it better now. It doesn’t… doesn’t really hurt at all anymore.” A little white lie. Even if the pain had subsided, it was anything but pleasant. I was at a loss as to how the first man ever talked the first woman into trying this a second time. Then I looked into his dark eyes, which were crowded with an uncharacteristic mix of banked passion and self-reproach. Ah, that’s how.
“I’m so sorry, Pearl.”
“I’m not.” The words tumbled out, startling him, but they were right. I wasn’t sorry.
He lowered his mouth to mine again, kissing me softly, deeply, as he withdrew below. Before I could protest, he returned—more tenderly than before. His biceps trembled beneath my hands, and I knew he was using every ounce of control to keep from hurting me.
I trailed my fingertips over his solid shoulders and down his back as he pressed deeper still, his kisses drugging me. The discomfort began to melt away, to be replaced with a fierce, building ache. Progressing slowly to longer, deeper strokes, he countered those movements with his mouth rather than mirroring them—his tongue driving deepest when he pulled back, teasing the surface of my lips when he thrust inside.
“Boyce?” I breathed, beginning to move along with him, though the motion was foreign and some small part of me felt ridiculous. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right.
He slowed and I arched against him, wanting the opposite of slow.
“Ah, dammit.” He closed his eyes. “You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” His eyes flashed open and he steeled his jaw, filling me completely and going stock-still, watching me.