I was feeling incredibly exposed, but thankfully, it was pretty dark inside our tent. Besides, when Trip Wilmington tells you to take off your clothes, you don’t think about it. You just do it. And if he tells you he wants to look at you? You thank your lucky stars that he must see something about you that he likes. You lie there, trying to act laid-back, as if getting naked with the eighth wonder of the world is an everyday occurrence for you. You send up prayers of gratitude to the gods of good fortune... and then you let him look.
His smile was wicked as his eyes ran the length of me. Without another word he bent over to kiss me again, as his hand trailed down the center length of my body from my lips down to my belly button, searing me in half. He raised himself up and before I knew it, he’d drizzled some wine into the hollow of my throat; the cool, gold liquid forming a rivulet down the same path his hand had just taken. He put the bottle down and lowered his lips and tongue to my neck, tasting the droplets away with his hungry mouth. He took his time, working his way from my throat, down the center of my chest, kissing and licking all the way down to my abdomen.
I giggled when his tongue tickled my belly button, which made him laugh, too. I took the opportunity to skootch down and kiss him on the lips, before announcing that it was my turn.
Trip stretched out on his stomach and I tipped the bottle, drizzling a stripe down his back. I started kissing him between his shoulder blades and followed the route of his spine with my tongue. The wine had pooled into a little well at the small of his back, which I licked away from his jeans as I ran my hands over the muscles at his shoulders. He gave a grunting laugh, obviously enjoying his torment.
I thought it was so incredibly exotic what we were doing to each other, leisurely sipping wine from one another’s skin. Like we were some sophisticated married couple vacationing at a five-star hotel on the Riviera and not just two kids in a tent out in the woods of Jersey. It felt so wild and thrilling and so extremely grown-up, the two of us there alone, tasting each other like it was the most familiar thing in the world. I mean, it’s not like I thought grown-ups spent all their free time drinking booze off of each other’s naked bodies, but I definitely felt like Trip’s and my makeout session was a little more intimate than just your average pair of teenagers, getting drunk off a bottle of Boonsfarm and necking out in the woods. I didn’t think the effect would have been quite so drugging had we cracked open a few cans of Meister Braus before sticking our tongues down each other’s throats.
Trip rolled over and threw an arm around me, taking my body underneath his before burying his head in my neck. His mouth was at my ear, his hands were everywhere else. I was starting to feel the slight effects of the alcohol, but not enough to deaden my encroaching nervousness about the situation. I kept thinking that at any moment, my panties were destined to join my dress in a pile in the corner and then there’d be no turning back from there.
I made myself remember that that was the reason I’d brought him there in the first place and the thought fortified my resolve. I put my hands at the side of his face and he took the cue, sliding his body up the span of mine and kissing my mouth again. But this time, he pressed his hardened length so intimately between my legs that I thought we’d both go up in flames.
I knew things were moving too fast, but I didn’t stop him. The more he moved against me, the more I convinced myself I wanted him to. I didn’t recognize my own hands as I watched them unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down his zipper. His hands were braced on either side of my head, his face trying to gauge just what in the hell I was doing. His eyes were dark, wild, questioning, searching.
“Layla?” he scratched out, one word asking if this was really happening. Asking for permission.
I ran my hands up his chest in answer and met his eyes with my own. Wordlessly, silently, he found confirmation there and quickly went about the task of stripping the rest of the way down. I slipped out of my panties as Trip maneuvered himself on top of me, under the blanket.
His mouth was at my breast and my hands were in his hair as he fumbled with the condom out of my sight. I thanked God that Trip had one in his wallet. It was the one thing I hadn’t taken care of ahead of time, assuming that guys just always carried those things on them at all times. Thankfully, it turned out I was right in this case. I hadn’t registered what a gamble that had been until after he’d put it on.
By then, my heart was beating like mad, my nerves were a tangled mess. Instead of allowing myself to appreciate how awesome it felt to have Trip kissing me, touching me, melting for me, my brain refused to turn off. Normally, making out with Trip was amazing. Feeling his lips and body pressed against me was the most insanely remarkable experience in the world. But this time, all I could think about was how every kiss, every touch was leading us toward a much bigger destination, and I was terrified.
As freaked out as I was, it would have completely sucked to have come all the way up there just to not have sex. So I had no illusions about what was going to happen.
Chapter 38
TREMORS