“Surge of testosterone,” he explained.
She looked down at her shirt smeared with grit and grime. He grimaced.
“I’m sorry for that. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“I don’t want a new one. I want this one,” she said, fingering the fabric. Then her hand moved to her cheek. She knew that was smeared with grease as well.
Something surged inside of her—a feeling she’d never experienced with Brandon. It was feral, and she thought it was because Jeremy marked her. Claimed her. So that was that. She was his.
“Do it again,” she said.
“Do what? Kiss you?”
She nodded.
“I’m filthy,” he said, presenting his palms to her.
“Good.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I need you to kiss me again,” she said patiently. “And not be nice about it.”
She didn’t understand her own words. This must be lust, she thought. This must be desire. Real desire.
He leaned into her and bent his head. His lips grazed her neck, trailing light kisses. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but sensuality seemed to come fairly easy for him. Maybe it was instinctual. Well that would account for all the babies, he thought absurdly. She moaned softly, and he stilled his lips.
What is she asking me? he thought.
Stop thinking so much!
But what do I do?
“KISS ME!” Regan cried in his ear.
He jerked up, smacking the side of her head with his own.
“Oh God! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he said, stroking her temple.
She swatted his hand and grabbed his face. “Whatever you were thinking right before you kissed me for the first time, I want you to think about it again. Got it?”
He nodded. Go the distance. Go the distance. Go the fucking distance, Jeremy.
He took hold of her hips and lifted her onto the counter.
Go the distance.
He wedged his body between her legs, eliciting a shocked “Oh!” from her lips.
Go the distance.
He cupped her face once more, holding her in a near death grip, staring at her like she was dinner.
Go the distance.
Lips to lips. A squirm. A shudder. Desire to be closer when they both knew they couldn’t. Not yet. Much too soon. But the desire, building building in their hearts, their mouths, forcing heated kisses, wet with want.
She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer. He encircled her lower back and pulled her to him, crushing himself against her so that she could have no doubt of his yearning for her. It throbbed between her legs, exciting her own sexual response. She grew wet for him, and instinct commanded her hips. She jerked and thrust against him, searching for release.
Not right not right! her mind screamed. She knew it wasn’t right. But her body moved against her will, desperate for undoing. She wanted this boy to undo her. She whimpered into his mouth.
He eased off of her, knowing what she wanted. Knowing it wasn’t the right moment to give it to her.
“Seriously?!” she cried.
“What?”
“I . . . you . . .” She gripped the counter, certain of leaving fingernail marks.
Jeremy waited.
“Why are you teasing me?” she asked helplessly.
“I’m not trying to. You asked me to take control. I’m just doing what you asked,” he replied.
“You know what I want, and you’re not giving it to me!” she whined.
He smirked. “You’re damn right.”
He never thought consternation could look so beautiful. There she sat trapped in sexual frustration, smeared with muck, her breath coming in short, hard pants. For the first time in his life, he wielded the power. So this is what it felt like for her—to possess ultimate control. It swelled his heart, his chest, his muscles. He could feel himself growing, stretching, transforming into The Hulk. He could make her do anything with that power. So why did he have the sudden urge to kneel before her instead?
“Make me come! Yeah, that’s right! I said it! Make me come!”
“No.”
“But you don’t even have to do anything! Just lean against me!”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because we’ve only just kissed.”
“So what?”
“I wanna take it slow.”
“Bullshit. No guy wants to take it slow. You just want to make me beg for it.”
He chuckled. “I really don’t.” Eh, partial truth.
“Yes, you do!”
“Regan, I swear, I couldn’t handle all that right now, anyway. You’ve gotta trust me. Do you know how hard it was for me to muster the courage to kiss you? If I make you come, too, I’ll probably die. Is that what you want?”
She grinned and shook her head.
“Do you understand what’s happening to my insides right now? You think I imagined for a second that I’d ever kiss you? I’m Jeremy. You’re . . . you. I’m having a hard time making sense of this. Am I dreaming?”
She shook her head again.
“Do you even like me?”
She reared back. “How could you ask me that?”
“Well, maybe you just wanted to make out.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Um, do you think that’s a thing I do—just make out with whatever guy happens to be around at the time?”
“No,” he replied, embarrassed. “I just meant that I know you’re hurting right now, and maybe all you really wanted was comfort.” He paused. “Or something.”
“Listen up, buddy. I’m not hurting over Brandon, if that’s what you’re implying. I don’t miss him at all. And yeah, I am hurting over Casey. That’s just gonna take some time. But I sure as hell didn’t come over here with the intention of using you to make myself feel better. If I wanted to get off, I’d just go home and do it myself.”
Well, and there you had it.
Silence. Long, uncomfortable bout of silence.
“Soooo, you like me?” Jeremy asked finally.