“Come here.”
I lean in and press my lips against hers, hoping the warmth can penetrate some of those dark corners of her mind.
I didn’t plan on coming in here and starting something like this with Green, but when I think about it, this bed.
Connor’s bed.
It’s the best place in the world right now to make sure she gets over him, once and for all.
The king-sized mattress deserves to be the host of a proper fucking; don’t you think?
Green lets herself lean back, and I follow along. She strips me of my jacket, and I return the favor by helping her out of the vintage tee she wore today.
She kicks her tennis shoes off, and I’m right behind her.
“I ever tell you how much I fucking love it when your hair is jacked, Green?”
She rolls her eyes. “Always the romantic.”
“It’s a gift, really.” I pull her jeans off along with the lingerie she’s sporting today. On the way back up to meet her lips, I leave a trail of hot kisses, and maybe a few nibbles here and there. I kiss her calves and her inner thighs. I take my time around a certain sensitive area I like to refer to as the River of Dreams and relish in the sounds she makes because, clearly, it hasn’t been visited by the right kind of guy, with the right kind of skills, in a while.
Her stomach flinches when I arrive there, and I remember the ticklish spots.
“Oh, my God, Stiles. Quit it.”
I don’t, and she coils away from me some more.
Which is unacceptable.
“Pleee-he-heeze.” Although I like the way it sounds to have her beg, I continue on.
“Jackson!” She screams my name out in a squeaky voice, but all it does it egg me on.
I fucking love it when she says my name like that.
I grin against her skin, and she tugs at my hair, drawing me back to see her.
“Just kiss me already.”
“I thought I was.” I raise an eyebrow, and she pulls me down into a long, deep, satisfying meeting of the mouths. She tastes like strawberry today. It’s almost as good as the cherry.
Almost.
Green arches into me, giving a sign that she’s not willing to wait any more. So I get my damn jeans off and let my skin enjoy the heat between the two of us for a minute or two.
I kiss her neck and then the dip between her breasts.
Her hands roam my back, lower and lower until she cups my ass and pulls me into her hard.
“All you have to do is ask.” It’s a low growl as I say it.
In other words, it’s not a joke this time. It’s a fucking promise.
She pulls again, and this time, I slide into her. But it’s not hot and heavy or drastic and animalistic. It’s slow and gentle. With meaning and purpose. To make sure she fucking understands what it’s like to be with someone who has absolutely no intentions of hurting her physically or otherwise.
Ever.
We don’t close our eyes, Green and me. We watch each other’s responses to every move the other makes. We respond with light scraping, kisses, fingernails, and lip biting.
We tell each other all the sappy bullshit people say, only we don’t have to fucking say it. It’s here. Between us. Inside us. Where it fucking counts.
If sex had always been like this for me, I’d have married my high school crush a long goddamn time ago. Lucky for me, that never happened because I can honestly say it’s never been this way for me before.
With Green, it’s fucking bungee jumping off the side of the Grand Canyon.
I kiss her when she gives me the look. The one that says she’s getting ready to come. When she does, I feel her tighten and release, tighten and release. It’s the best and worst feeling because I know I’m right behind her, and I don’t want this thing between us to end just yet.
As it is, though, all good things…
“Fucking A.” I press my head against hers when I can’t take it anymore, and she holds me there until it’s over.
The things I want to say to her right now.
Things I’ve never said to anyone.
But then, I don’t have to with Green. She just fucking knows.
I lay back, and she nuzzles into my side, fitting perfectly. Warm. Tranquil.
I breathe in and out. Not because Lana said it’s good for the soul. Because it’s easy to do with Green next to me like this.
If I think on it all too much, it’s fucking scary as shit.
In a good way.
Once I gather my wits again, I realize there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask her.
“Wanna grab something to eat and figure out our next move?” Regarding Anonymous, of course. But I’m not saying that shit-bag’s name out loud. It’ll ruin the mood.
Chinese sounds fucking fabulous right about now.
“Can’t.” She’s quiet, but she’s not thinking about crying any more, which is a good thing on any day. “I told Mia I’d come help with the boys and make dinner tonight.”
Jesus.
This is my life now. I finally find someone I might wanna spend more than a few weeks, tops, with, and I have to share her with my sister-in-law, a.k.a. the mother hen of mother hens.