I trace the muscles of his arm with my finger, trailing up toward his shoulder. “That I’m not ready to say goodbye to this place.” I see his smile fade and shift closer, feeling his hands wrap around my waist. I drop my forehead so it’s resting against his, my fingers interlocking behind his neck. “It’s not because I don’t want to live with you. Please, don’t think that.”
He licks his lips before exhaling roughly. “I don’t. I wish we could live here. I know how important this space is to you. But with us trying to start a family now, I don’t see how it would work. We’re going to need more than one bedroom.” I nod against him, feeling his fingers trace along the exposed skin of my back where my tank top has ridden up. “Dylan, I’ll pay for you to keep this place if it’ll make you happy. You can use it as storage or for whatever you want. Do you want me to do that?”
“No. It wouldn’t make sense to pay for a space we really wouldn’t use anymore. It’s fine. I guess I just wasn’t prepared to see the boxes yet.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry. I knew this would be hard for you so I figured I would do the packing. I’ll do it all, I don’t care.”
I run my finger along his jaw, feeling the day-old stubble tickle my skin. “You’re too sweet to me. How much did you get done?”
“About half. I found your yearbooks.”
I drop my head and cover my eyes with my hand. “Oh, God. Please tell me you didn’t.” Why the hell did I keep those? I know everyone goes through an awkward stage, but something tells me the man I’m currently straddling never went through such a thing. And I definitely did.
He laughs, grabbing my hand and pulling it away from my face. His fingers tilt my chin up to meet his stare. “I did. You were fucking hot at sixteen.”
Relief washes over me. Thank God. My high school years were good to me. I arch my brow playfully, licking the corner of my mouth as I make a mental note to burn all my middle school yearbooks. “Oh? Would you have liked sixteen-year-old, virginal, Dylan?”
“I would’ve gone to jail if I touched you. But I definitely would’ve thought about it.”
Christ, that’s crazy-hot to think about.
I slide my hands along his bare chest, feeling his chiseled body tense against my palms. “Mmm. I would’ve thought about you touching me, too.” I glance up at him from underneath my lashes, seeing his green eyes blazing. “At night. When I was alone in my bedroom.” I lean in closer, pressing my lips to his ear. “I would’ve thought about it a lot,” I whisper.
He growls, moving his hands underneath my tank top and rubbing along the skin of my back. “Would you have gotten yourself off thinking about me and what I’d do to you?”
I nod against his cheek, grinding my hips into him. “Every night. I masturbated a lot back then. I was the horniest teenager.”
“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing my hips and directing the tempo. I hear his breath hitch as he tilts his pelvis up, his length rubbing against me in the most delicious way possible. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to keep myself from you. I can’t now. I would’ve done anything to touch you. To taste you. Jail would’ve been worth it if I got to watch you come apart in my arms.”
“Reese,” I moan, rocking my hips faster against him. “This feels… oh, God, this feels so good.” Who would’ve thought a little grinding with clothes on would feel this spectacular? Of course, the dirty-talking man underneath me doesn’t hurt.
“I would’ve made you come like this. Rubbing my cock against you. Letting you feel how fucking hard I am for you.” His fingers unbutton my jeans and tug at the zipper. “Take these off. It’ll feel better.”
I quickly discard my jeans onto the floor and am pulled back into his lap. His rough hands grab my ass, pulling me closer so we’re chest to chest. “Now, where were we?” I ask, as he rocks me against him, putting us back into that erotic rhythm.
“You were about to come.”