Page 48 of Escaping Our Reality

Worry replaces lust, and I race to him. “Ry, you’re hurt.”

I tenderly reach out, touching the skin around the two-inch long cut. Immediately, his skin breaks out in goose bumps and breath hisses between his teeth. He does the same thing when I slide my hands underneath his shirt when we’re making out. Feeling his body is one thing. And seeing it is something completely different. Combine the two into one, and my mind can’t even form the words to describe the level of perfection.

The cut is long, but not deep. More of a scrape than anything else. “What happened?”

“Bent over the hood of an old car today. It scratched me. It’s nothing. I was just changing because my shirt had some blood on it.”

Without thinking, my fingertips circle around his chest. You’d think I’d never seen a guy’s chest before. Not like this Ihaven’t. Never a guy like this. Never a guy this handsome. Never a guy I call my own. I graze his right nipple, and his hand clamps down on my wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His grip prevents me from rubbing my hand down his rippling abs like I want to, but it doesn’t prevent me from flattening my palm against his chest and feeling his thundering heartbeat. It must match my own. He bends closer to me, sliding his hand up the side of my hip.

I moan. I need him to kiss me. So, I moan.

In one microsecond, he releases my hand, grabs my butt, and lifts me up into his arms. Obviously, I’ve never been carried by a guy before, but I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and smash my lips to his. Kicking the truck door closed with his foot, he maneuvers to the back, lowering the tailgate with one hand. The back of the truck has quickly become one of our favorite kissing spots in the past few weeks. I sit on the tailgate, and he stands in front of me between my legs. This time is no different.

Except this time Ry doesn’t have his shirt on.

And I’m running my hands over every square inch of naked real estate he’s given me.

His hands tangle in my hair, pulling my neck back, showering me in kisses and licks and nibbles.

And… something else is different this time.

Ry’s hands are always on my face, on my back, in my hair, or on my thighs above my knees. Occasionally, he’ll rub my hips, caressing the curve of my body around to my ass. But tonight, his left hand leaves my face, traces my collarbone, and falls to my right breast.

Oh. My. Gosh.

He gently rubs his hand over my fleshy mound. My nipple strains against the fabric of my bra and shirt, becoming painfullytender and swollen. Eventually, his light strokes become soft massages as he explores me, explores both of my breasts. Learning my size, my heaviness. Learning the touches and caresses that make me arch my back and moan even more.

The hard ridge of his erection rubs against the inside of my thigh, and I think that may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Ryalwayshas an erection when we’re kissing, and italwaysdrives me crazy.

Pushing him back, I grab the hem of my shirt, wanting—needing—it off my body. Needing to feel his skin on my skin. But Ry pulls away, gently wrapping his fingers over mine and pulling my shirt back down.

As always, we find ourselves panting and grunting, racing to catch our breath. I stare into his eyes. I see the same desire I have. The same want. The same need. “Why did you stop me?”

“There’s no rush, Lulu. We have time. Time to take it slow.”

Swallowing, I nod. It’s not the first time that’s happened. It happened once when I tried to take his shirt off, and it happened once when I pulled his hands up to my ass, wanting him to grab me, to touch me.

I can’t help but think it has something to do with my age.

Well, he better prepare himself. Because two days from now, that’ll be a moot point. He’ll need another excuse.

Chapter 22

CRUTCH

I really hated taking the phone from her. Despised it.

But when I hear her voice, late at night, after a long day of work and school, I think maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

“So how was the study group?”

She scoffs. “How do you think it was?”

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