This One Moment (Pushing Limits, #1)

He reached up and cupped one of my breasts. My ribs were still bruised and slightly sore from the attack, but the discoloration had faded enough so it wasn’t noticeable in this lighting. The last thing I wanted was for Nolan to change his mind about what I sensed we were going to do, worried he might hurt me.

Wonder lit his eyes, like he was gazing upon one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The expression made him even sexier—something I’d never thought possible until now. I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud.

“Do you have condoms?” I didn’t want to get all heated up only to realize he didn’t have any in his room. I had some, but I needed to know if I should get them.

He cringed. “I wasn’t planning to get lucky on the trip, so no.”

“I’ll be right back.” I slid off the bed and practically ran to my room. I opened the drawer in my bedside table and removed the box of condoms. I dumped the contents on the bed. Three spilled out. I shook it again. Nothing else joined them. But really, did we need more than three? Unless we were going to be snowed in for the next two days and required steamy sex to stay warm, the answer was no.

But I wouldn’t have complained if we were snowed in. The sacrifice, well worth it.

I grabbed the condoms and rushed back to Nolan’s room. “I have three left.”

Nolan was standing next to the bed. He grabbed my hips and pulled me to him. My breasts squished against his chest and made them very happy. Then his mouth was on mine again.

One of his hands traveled to my lower back and his thumb stroked lazy circles against my skin. My hands knotted in his hair as our kisses heated up.

But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. More of him. More of us.

I let my fingers explore his body, enjoying every ridge of the muscles on his stomach. Enjoying the smooth skin above the waistband of his boxer briefs.

I ran my fingertip above the stretch of fabric. His muscles tightened, then relaxed under my touch.

Nolan’s hand moved down to squeeze my butt. It stayed there for a second, then drifted to the waistband of my cotton shorts. I wasn’t the only one excited at what we were doing. His length strained against the fabric of his underwear.

A thrill trembled through me. Touching a guy this way wasn’t new to me. But this was Nolan. The last thing I’d ever expected was to one day touch him so intimately.

Other than in my dreams.

I ran my fingers along the length of him, but it wasn’t enough. I slipped them under the waistband of his underwear and wrapped them around him. I came close to purring at the velvety softness of his tip, and traced my thumb under the head.

“Oh, God, Hailey,” Nolan breathed, and I couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Unless you want this to end before we’re started, I recommend you slow down.”

My thumb found the sensitive spot below the head and I gently massaged it. “Maybe I don’t want to slow down.”

He let out a hiss of air, then his fingers tugged on the waistband of my shorts. He peeled them off ever so slowly. His touch, as it caressed my skin, tormented my supersensitive body. The way he looked at me sent a warm flush over me, and I was positive if he didn’t stop doing that soon, I’d combust.

Which, right now, sounded like a heavenly way to go.

His finger brushed the outside of my right ankle, against the six forget-me-not flowers tattooed there. Each one tiny, delicate, realistic. An old belief claimed if you had a forget-me-not tattoo, your lover wouldn’t forget you. When I’d gotten it, Nolan had just moved to L.A., and I’d foolishly wanted to ensure he never forgot me—even though he wasn’t my lover. But when he never called back or texted me, I’d known the old wives’ tale was nothing more than a foolish belief.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“They’re forget-me-nots.” I skipped on my reason for getting the tattoo. Let him believe I got it because I loved the flower (which was true) and not because of some misguided story.

He lifted my ankle, removed the shorts, and tossed them aside. He gently kissed the flowers. The sweet and simple action almost did me in.

Nolan lowered my foot back down.

With my shorts off, I was lying on the bed in nothing but my red cotton underwear. Okay, not the sexiest piece of underwear I owned. That honor went to the satin panties Kayla had given me for my birthday. Her motto: if I was going to get lucky, I’d better look sexy while it went down. To her, plain cotton underwear was a big no-no. It wasn’t sexy enough. But the way Nolan looked at said underwear, he clearly didn’t agree with her. Not even close.

I licked my lip, a slight nervousness at what we were about to do creeping in. I’d had sex plenty of times, enough to know what I was doing, yet for the first time since I’d lost my virginity, I was genuinely nervous. Things were different when you weren’t about to screw some random guy you didn’t care to see again after that night. It was different when you were about to have sex with someone you’d been secretly in love with for so long—and that scared me.

Stina Lindenblatt's books