Page 13 of When it Sizzles

I shake my head. “No. I told you, clothes never came off with my other boyfriends. Yours is the first one I’ve seen in real life.” I fight a grin before adding, “But I’m already pretty sure he’s the best.”

“And he’s already pretty sure he’s madly in love with you. Come here,” he says, making me giggle as we roll across the bed.

Soon, he’s on his back and I’m hovering above him, watching his face do wonderfully sexy things as he teaches me how to work his body the way he worked mine. Turns out, I can grip him much more firmly than I anticipated.

Firmer and faster…

I work him up and down, gathering the slickness from the tip of him to keep the friction from becoming too much, shocked to find that touching him is nearly as arousing as being touched. My breath speeds and my nervous system lights up as his hips buck into the air, thrusting once more into my slick grip before coming with sharp pulses that feel delicious beneath my hand. Even the hot fluid that slides down his stomach to coat my knuckles is more erotic than I expected.

It’s not a mess, it’s?—

Well, it is a mess, but it’s…

“It’s a sexy mess,” I murmur, running a fingertip through his release, smearing it around his firm abs.

He laugh-sighs as he brushes his hair back from his forehead. “Glad you think so. I certainly think your mess is pretty sexy.”

The words make my cheeks heat as I become very aware of the slickness hot on my thighs. A part of me wants to ask if it’s normal to get turned on by giving him pleasure, but decide it’s a silly question.

Who cares if it’s normal? It’s wonderful.

This entire night has been wonderful.

“I think you’re sexy,” he adds, reaching up to cup my face in his hand. “I’m already looking forward to tomorrow night.”

“Me, too,” I say, leaning down to steal a kiss, finding his lips somehow even more delightful than they were a few minutes ago. I just feel so…close to him. And I only want to get closer.

“Think you might want to sleep over?” he murmurs as he smooths my hair from my face. “I could make a fancy breakfast in the morning. For a man who spent over a decade eating cafeteria food, I’m a decent cook.”

I let out a soft sigh against his lips. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Beat you at chess?” he says. “I’ve been thinking about the board, and you’re right. You’re going to beat me in two.”

I pull back, laughing. “You were thinking about chess while we were in bed?”

He looks adorably guilty. “No, not the entire time. Just during the last part, to try to make it last longer. You were just so gorgeous, hovering over me like a sexy angel of mercy, I had to do something, or I wouldn’t have lasted five seconds.”

I shake my head, but I’m still grinning as I say, “Fine, but you still have to finish the game. It’s no fun unless I get to physically move my queen in for the slaughter.”

He hums low in his throat. “Slaughter? I wouldn’t say it was a bloodbath, woman. I held my own, and I’ll beat you next time. No doubt in my mind.”

I slide out of bed, heading for the bathroom to wash my hands, feeling strangely unselfconscious about being completely nude in front of a man for the first time.

But then, the way Connor looks at me makes it clear he thinks I look just fine without any clothes on. Better than fine. He looks at me like I’m the sexiest, most captivating thing he’s ever seen, and for the first time in my life, I understand why women waste so much time fussing with their hair and makeup.

As I wash up, I think maybe I’ll ask Mel to help me with my makeup tomorrow night, too, before our second date. Though I have a feeling Connor wouldn’t care if I showed up in my usual summer overalls and a swipe of cherry lip gloss. He enjoys more about me than my looks, a fact he proves by talking me into another game of chess, clearly as reluctant for the night to end as I am.

We end up playing two more games, chatting nonstop about our favorite philosophers, the modern crisis of attention, and what the word “attention” really means. Is attention a cup we hold between us for the things we love and value, waiting for it to be filled, or a force we exert upon the outside world to prove we’re autonomous beings in control of our destiny?

By the time we’ve delved deep into our various thoughts on the subject, I’m not sure what I think about attention anymore, but I’m positive that I love giving my attention to this man.

And that I wish I could give him more.

More of my attention.

More of my time.

More of my body and my kisses and the sighs I’ve only ever made for him.

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