“It’s about damn time!” Daisy yells at our departing backs.
“Bro, give her some good loving!” Sebastian calls out.
“Would you like more rolls, Mrs. Maple?” I hear Audrey ask, taking over the role of hostess. She does it better than I do anyway.
I giggle as we rush up the stairs. We finally reach my bedroom, and Chase grabs me, pulling me toward him, and slams the door of my childhood room behind us.
“Finally,” he says with satisfaction. “Alone.”
CHAPTER 38
Olivia
I reach for him, and there’s a desperation to our movements.
“I want you, Chase,” I mumble through long, drawn-out, drugging kisses. “Make love to me. Be my first.”
We draw apart now. Our foreheads touching, deep, labored breaths mingling. His eyes are on mine, trying to read my mind. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything in the world. I love you, Chase James.”
He closes his eyes, as if hearing the words is too much for him. When he opens them, his eyes burn into mine in heated tenderness.
In one swift motion, he lifts me like I’m made of feathers. I make a surprised sound at the unexpected gesture and hold on as he carries me across the room, kissing me the entire time.
When we reach my bed, I slide down his body, and we stand there, just staring at each other. I feel the weight of the moment.
Chase’s hand trembles as he brushes it over my collarbone. He bends and kisses that patch of exposed skin, and gooseflesh breaks out. My whole body trembles like his hand, from excitement, from anticipation, from nerves.
A gust of laughter breaks out from the party below, and we look at each other. It makes our act seem more illicit, which ratchets up the nerves and excitement.
His half-smile sends longing coursing through me. God, what it does to me. It’s sexy and secretive and naughty, and it focuses my gaze back on his lips. I tiptoe up and kiss him until he takes my mouth and gives me the kiss back tenfold.
His hands mark every part of me, a little desperate, a little clumsy. And I love that he’s not being practiced and smooth, because as I stand there being worshipped, I acknowledge I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m desperate to get his shirt off. I feel his hard abs and smooth skin and strong chest, and I don’t want clothes between us. I don’t want anything between us. Skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart. My soul is his.
He walks me backward a step, and I fall to the bed as he stands over me, like a conquering god. His eyes are full of want for me. I’m humbled. And slick with desire.
Our minds must be on the same track because he murmurs, “I need your clothes off. Now.”
That’s when it hits me. This whole sex thing means I need to get naked in front of one of the most beautiful people on the planet.
I’ve been there before, but damn, it’s bright in here.
When we walked into the room, Chase flipped the light switch.
“Um. Okay. But can we turn off the lights?” I mumble.
“I want to see you, Olivia.”
“I just need some mood lighting here, Chase. Work with me. Overhead lights off. Twinkly lights on? Or candles?” I ask.
“I need more than candlelight to appreciate your body properly,” he murmurs. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
“I’m even more beautiful by twinkly light,” I assure him.
He shakes his head. “You’re beautiful always.”
“Stop distracting me and turn off the lights.”
He rolls his eyes and walks to the light switch. He turns the lock while he’s there. Good move. I admire his rangy muscles and tight ass. I successfully removed his shirt, so I have a lot to admire there as well. Until the room goes dark.
Damn. Maybe I didn’t think this through.
A second later, my twinkle lights turn on, and the room is bathed in a soft glow. He’s disconcertingly good at navigating a girl’s bedroom.
He climbs onto the bed and stretches out next to me. He shifts to his side, his head in one hand. I roll over to face him, mirroring his pose.
“Hi,” I say.
There’s that smile. “Hey. You’re right.”
“I know.” I grin. “About what?”
“You’re gorgeous by twinkle light.”
“Told you so.” I make a goofy face.
“Be serious. We’re having a moment.”
“I hope we have more than a moment.”
“Really? The virgin is making stamina jokes?”
“Shh, don’t say the V-word.” I push him.
“Why? It’s part of you. I like that you’ve saved yourself for me.” He’s teasing, but there’s truth in it.
“I kind of was.”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?” He traces my collarbone with his hand, edging to my bra.
“Every time I met a guy, I’d compare him to Remington, and he would come up short. I had a crush on my pen pal. It didn’t feel right to be with another guy.”
“Does it make me a jerk that I’m glad?” He kisses my neck, and I shiver.
“Kind of,” I whisper. “Being my pen pal didn’t stop you from hooking up with other girls.”
“No matter who I tried to distract myself with, it never felt right to be with anyone else. You were the one I wanted.”
He roams his hand up to my breast, covering it, lightly caressing. “I’ve been dying to do this since that first morning I saw you. Actually, since that selfie you sent to me. I love your tits. I need to see them. Now.”
He lifts my dress, and I help him drag it from my body. When it’s off, I’m only in my bra and underwear and I’m tempted to cover myself, but the hunger and admiration in his expression stop me. He doesn’t see my imperfections. He loves what he sees, and through his gaze, I can reimagine my image of myself. Where I see extra flesh, he sees lush curves. It’s heady.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers.
He pulls aside the cotton of my bra, bending over me to draw first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. It’s both too much yet not enough. I writhe under him, trying to touch every part of his chest, stomach, raking my hands over him. As he sucks at me, his hand goes lower until he skims up my thigh. I’m quivering beneath him, filled with longing. He plays with the seam of my underwear, and I whimper. He skitters a finger over that place that’s just concentrated want, tickling, teasing, making me gasp and writhe.
“Please,” I beg.
With his other hand, he finds my bra clasp and worships my bare breasts. But still, he holds back, teasing me over my underwear.
“I like it when you beg for me.” His voice is sandpaper rough.
I want him to beg for me also, so I drag my fingers over the front of his jeans, feeling his erection. He sucks in a breath as I rub up and down in a slow rhythm. When his breathing is rough, I drag his zipper down and touch him through the space I’ve made. He’s wearing boxers, but I feel his dick through the thin material and relish his gasp.
“You make me crazy for you.”
“Ditto,” I whisper.
With one smooth move, he pushes me down on the bed. He stares at me, and my gut response is to cover myself, but he takes my wrists and pushes them back against the bed, raising himself above me.
Everything but overwhelming desire falls away.
He leans down and places a kiss on my soft belly. I shudder at the sensation, anticipation and nerves warring. He lands a kiss lower, and then lower, one at a time, until he’s at my panties. He looks up, his gorgeous face full of heat, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
He takes a finger and dips inside to the curls beneath. I realize that, just as before, I have no girl prep going on down there. I’m sure most of the girls he’s been with have been completely smooth or maybe with designer pussies. I read an article once about all the styles you can create.
“I’m an all-natural girl,” I say, not sure how to put it.
“It works for me.” He’s practically panting. So I choose to believe him.
He drags my underwear off and gets up close and personal with me.
I kinda want to die. Excitement and shyness mix together.
“Relax,” he croons. “Just feel.”