Page 56 of Shots on Net

“Taking my shirt off,” I say, and flex the hem of the shirt as much as I’m able with his hands on my wrists.

He sits up, unexpectedly, causing me to slide down from where I was propped above his stomach. I gasp, startled by the sudden movement, and flush because now I’m essentially sitting directly in his lap. My entire body feels like it’s on fire; Carter has a very noticeable morning wood. Politely, I ignore it.

“Zeke,” he says, and releases my wrists in favor of putting his hands on my hips. The way he’s sitting has his abdomen flexed in a very appealing way. “Do you want to take your shirt off? Because we can just keep making out. No pressure.”

“I know. And I want to.” With my hands free once more, I reach up to cup his face and run my thumbs along the line of his jaw. He’s got the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen—like the night sky just before full darkness descends.

“Okay. That’s fine, obviously,” he cocks an eyebrow, making me grin, “but I have one objection to make.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. My hands are on his shoulders, now, and I resist the urge to clench them. I really hope he’s not about to object to seeing me with my shirt off. He has to know by now that I don’t look like him.

“I get to take it off,” he says, grinning and leaning forward to kiss me.

I relax. Of course, he’s not worried about what you look like, I chide myself. His fingers have crept up inside my shirt, hands careful against my sides. His thumb swipes across my abdomen, and the warmth in my pelvis becomes almost unbearable. Carter’s still kissing me, gentle and slow, fingers creeping slowing across my skin. I wonder if he can feel my own hard-on.

Carter leans back, giving one more teasing swipe of his thumbs before he tugs the shirt up. I lift my arms and it’s off, tossed to the side as his hands once more find my hips. I will myself not to blush as Carter’s eyes blaze a very slow, and very heated path over my torso. He looks like a starving man being presented with a feast.

Suddenly, Carter flips us and I let out a huff of surprise as my back hits the mattress with a soft thump. Unlike me when our positions were reversed, he’s holding all of his weight off of me—our chests are barely touching. The way he’s looking at me makes it very hard to breathe.

“You good?” He asks, in a tight voice that sounds vastly different that usual.

“I’m good,” I gasp, because he chose that moment to flick his tongue against the bottom of my jaw.

He follows the line of my throat, placing lingering kisses over every inch of skin. Adjusting the placement of his hands as he goes, he uses his lips and tongue to explore. If I thought my nerves were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. My skin feels like it’s melting off my bones. When he finds a sensitive spot between my ribs, he scrapes his teeth over the area; it makes me gasp, back bowing off the bed a bit and putting us closer together for a moment.

“I knew you’d be good at this,” I say aloud, more to myself than him. He laughs against my stomach, vibrations rumbling through my pelvis. If he does that again, I’m going to come in my pants.

When he reaches my lower stomach, he traces his tongue along the waistband of my pajamas, but doesn’t make a move to take it any further. Instead, he retraces his languid path back upward. By the time he reaches my mouth, I’m a mess of longing. When he kisses me, I lift my head to press harder into his mouth, and run my hands along the grooves of his ribcage.

“Do you want,” I start, but lose the thread of my sentence when Carter nudges his face into my neck. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on stopping,” he mumbles, and drags his teeth across my pulse point.

“No, I mean…do you want to keep going, and have—take our pants off.” Good lord, how is a man supposed to talk when Carter Morgan is licking his collarbone?

“What?” Carter lifts his head, which is both a relief and a terrible loss. My skin tingles with the memory of his lips.

“Should we take our pants off?” I’m confused by the look on his face. I’m not a virgin; I know for a fact the next logical step in this process is to lose our pants.

“No,” he says, quietly. “Not yet.”

“Oh. You don’t…you don’t want to?”

“Mm, I want to. But let’s just…go slow, okay? We haven’t rushed into anything, yet. Let’s not start now.” He’s smiling softly as he says this, the fingers of one hand teasing my hair. The look on his face is heartbreakingly tender.

“You like me,” I marvel.

Carter frowns. “What the hell does that mean? Of course, I like you.”

He rolls over onto his back, bringing me with him. For the second time this morning, I find myself splayed across his warm, muscular chest. There are worse places to be.

“Incredible,” I say, laying my cheek against his chest. I can feel the beat of his heart in my ear. “I was a little worried you’d lose interest when you saw me without clothes on. Or, a shirt, in this case.”

“That’s dumb as shit,” he says, and I laugh. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me to him. “I like you. Everything about you. I’m not sure when I gave you the impression that I didn’t like the way you look, but I’m sorry if I did. I like your body.”

My ears burn as my entire face flushes with heat. I like your body are words that have never been directed at me before.

“Thank you,” I mutter, feeling disproportionately emotional. I’ve never put much importance into how others look, but I’m conscious of the level of importance others afford the superficial. And I’m painfully aware of where I fall short.

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