In a miraculous feat, I manage to hold back those words. They’d only scare her off, and I don’t want anything to ruin this perfect moment.
Vaughn gasps when I cup one of her soft breasts. “Oh,” she says, and there’s wonder in her voice.
I’m so gone for her. So. Gone. I’m not sure how I end up on top of her, or when my body starts slowly grinding against hers. I’m mindless, overcome with need for her. She loops her arms around my neck and kisses me hungrily.
It takes all my willpower to wrench my mouth away. “Are we—” I suck in some air “—moving too fast?”
Her beat of hesitation is all the answer I need. As painful as it is—physically painful—I roll onto my back and gulp in another burst of much-needed oxygen.
“We definitely are,” I say, answering my own question.
Vaughn sits up. Her hair is a tousled mess, and even in the darkness I can see that she’s biting her bottom lip, which is swollen from our kisses. “Actually, I think...” She nibbles on her lip some more. “I think...I’m ready for more.”
I try not to grab her. “Yeah? You had a beer tonight.”
“A sip of yours,” she corrects. “All I drank was water.” She exhales slowly. “I’m in charge, right?”
“Of course.” I spread my arms out wide. “I’m yours. Do what you want.”
She licks her lips and I about die. I curl my fingers into the sheets so I don’t attack her, even though I want to. Carefully, she swings one leg over my hip and settles onto my lap. This is the most exquisite torture ever.
Her finger traces the outline of the cross tat on my shoulder—the one I got after my first gold record. “This tattoo is hot. Is it bad that I think that since your mom’s name is on it?”
“Don’t talk about my mom right now,” I beg.
She nods seriously. “Good idea.” Her caress moves down my shoulder and squeezes my biceps. “You really do have nice guns.”
She acts like she wants to spend a dozen weeks exploring my body, which is great and terrible at the same time. I’m throbbing between my legs.
“Why are you breathing so heavily? Is it painful?”
Yes. Very. “No,” I lie. “It’s all good.” Just a small lie. I’d rather have her touching me than doing nothing, even if each light touch stokes my desire as surely as a soft breeze turns an ember into a raging fire.
“What should I do?” she whispers.
Her hands have moved back to my chest and I’m discovering there are areas of my body that are more sensitive than I ever imagined. Most of the time, I just want a girl’s hand on me. Or her mouth. But I’m so excited to be with Vaughn, to be near her, that every square inch of me is trembling from her featherlight caresses.
“Whatever you want,” I say hoarsely.
“But I don’t know exactly what I want.” She bites her lip again. “Can I put you in charge?”
No person in the history of Earth has moved faster. I bolt up, flip her over and cover her with my body in less time than an ant breathes. “What do you want?”
Her eyes gleam in the darkened room. “Everything.”
“You sure?”
“A hundred percent.”
“Because we can wait.” Now that I have her under me, I’m reminded of my promise to be patient. I do want to wait for her.
“I’m tired of waiting.”
Oh, thank God. I bend down and kiss her, taking the time to learn her responses. How she likes to be kissed. How a light nip at the side of her throat makes her breath catch. How a hot breath at her ear sends shivers down her spine.
I kiss her everywhere. Along her collarbone, the delicate slope above her breasts, the shallow of her flat belly. And down farther.
“I thought we were having sex,” she chokes out. Her fingers tangle in my hair as if she’s not sure if she wants to press me against her or pull me away.
“We will. But I need this first.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m dying for this.”
She lets me go and I take her, kissing her softly and then more roughly until she’s squirming and trembling and gasping. This time it’s her hands curling into the sheets.
When I can’t wait a second longer, I reach for my discarded jeans and pull out a condom, slipping it on. “It might hurt,” I whisper.
She gives me a nod to let me know that she’s with me. I press forward slowly, and a startled cry flies from her throat. I wait for her body to adjust to mine and when her legs fall open and her fingers dig into my shoulders, I move.
We both move, slowly, carefully, until sensation blurs my vision. We hold each other as the storm of emotion crashes over us. I cradle her body in my arms afterward. Her face is buried in my neck. Our hearts thunder against each other, her beats answered by mine, and on and on in a perfect, synchronized rhythm. I love this girl. So much.
“Vaughn?” I murmur before I drift off.
“Mmm?” she says drowsily.
“Today was the best day of my life.” The moment I say those words, I feel a pang of embarrassment. Did that sound pathetic? I hold my breath as I await her response.
“Good. I’m glad.” Her lips brush my chest in a tender kiss, and then we fall asleep tangled up together.
34
HER
@OakleyFord hi
@OakleyFord We love you. We love you. We love you.
@OakleyFord follow me
@OakleyFord I drew this for you
@OakleyFord Just bought tix for the 1st tour stop! Can we please meet?
@OakleyFord When r u coming back to Dallas?
@OakleyFord It’s my birthday! Can you message me back. Pls! it’s all I want.
@OakleyFord I love you
@OakleyFord Can’t wait for the tour!
@OakleyFord how do I get VIP passes 4 ur tour?
@OakleyFord xxxxoooo
@OakleyFord dump that girl she’s not good enuf f u
@OakleyFord @mrsoakleyford such a gold digger
@OakleyFord @weirdmagicalone she dumped her boyfriend to get with oak #slutacular #gohomethot
I close Twitter and wonder if I’d be allowed to delete the account altogether. Nothing positive is on there these days. I’d gotten into the habit of not reading it, but for some reason, after checking my texts, I opened the app and checked not just my feed, but Oakley’s, too. Big mistake.
“You’re up to something,” Oak says.
I shove all thoughts of Twitter aside and smile at him. “Something awesome.” Oak has been bugging me for weeks, wanting to know what all my text messages with his mom have been about. I’ve only managed to hold him off by telling him that he’ll know...soon.
Sometimes Oak’s spoiled upbringing shines through. He doesn’t like to share and he doesn’t have much patience. He’s used to getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.