Page 11 of My Brooding Valentine

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said. “But if you want our first time to be in the dark, that’s how it’ll be. I can’t promise what will happen in the morning when I wake up with you in bed next to me, the sun streaming through my window.”

I smiled. I liked that idea. By then, he’d know every curve of my body by touch, anyway.

“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing toward his bedroom.

I didn’t move. Instead, I stared at him. He stared back. He didn’t look confused, just patient as he waited for me to make a move.

“I want something first,” I said.

He moved his hand to his waist. “You want me to lose the blanket? Because?—”

I shook my head, interrupting whatever he was about to say. “I want you to kiss me, standing up, right here in your living room.”

“Come here,” he said.

There was a tone to his voice that did something to me. It caused a feeling between my legs that I’d never felt before. Sure, I’d been turned on, but nothing like this.

I had to remind myself to breathe as I put one foot in front of the other, walking away from the bedroom and toward him. As soon as I was within a few feet, though, calm washed over me.

I was safe in his hands. He’d take care of me. Yes, I wanted him in my life after tonight. I wanted him to be my first and last. But I also wanted him to teach me. I wanted him to show me how to please him. And I wanted to see what I’d been missing all these years.

I stopped in front of him, not touching him, just waiting to see what would happen next. I felt myself being pulled toward him, though—a magnetic force that was tough to resist.

He reached out, and that was all it took. I was in his arms and on tiptoe in seconds, pressing my body against his as our lips met.

We didn’t start slowly, instead making up for lost time, all the passion of the past few hours coming out in one long, breathless kiss. I moaned against his mouth as his hands slid beneath my sweater, running over the bare skin of my back. My hands were on his shoulders, but I didn’t dare move them, even though I knew I’d be welcome to explore. I wanted to savor this kiss first.

Probably encouraged by my moan, Sawyer deepened the kiss as he unclasped my bra. He moved his hands around my waist and up my ribcage, then shoved the bra cups upward to skim my nipples with his thumbs.

That brought another moan. As if on their own, my hips thrust forward, pressing into his erection and making him groan. Finally, he broke the kiss.

“Damn, baby,” he said. “If that’s an indication of what’s to come, this is going to be fucking amazing. Stay right there.”

I thought he might move away from me, but instead, he stepped back a little and knelt slightly, scooping me up in his arms. He carried me to the bedroom as though I weighed no more than a pile of sheets.

It was dark in his bedroom, but the light from the living room spilled in. I was weighing whether or not I could get over my insecurities and let him make love to me in partial lighting when he stepped away from the bed, walked over, and closed the bedroom door, bathing us in darkness. A little light came through the drawn blinds, but not much.

He walked around the bed and climbed in on the other side, making me aware that I was still lying on top of the sheets. I wiggled around until I had them on top of me and turned to face him.

“Are you over there?” I asked.

I held in a giggle. This was not the time for that.

“Go by touch,” he said. “You can do whatever you want.”

I wondered if he’d taken off the blanket after he walked around the bed. Only one way to tell. I reached out and my hand landed on his biceps. That was what told me he was on his side, facing me.

Holding my breath, I slid my hand to his face, moving over his cheek and finally scooting my head over on the pillow to touch my lips to his. My second kiss ever. Or did it still count as my first kiss, since it was with the same guy, and only minutes after the first? I wasn’t sure how all that worked.

Sawyer didn’t move to touch me, and I thought back to his previous words.Go by touch.

I returned my hand to his biceps, exploring the contours. He continued to kiss me without seeming the slightest bit distracted. I held back a smile as I issued a challenge to myself. When his kisses got sloppier, I’d know I was doing my job—that my touch was turning him on.

Not yet, though. Not to the point of distraction, anyway. But I was only moving across his chest to his rib cage.

Suddenly, he tilted away from me, and it took me a second to realize he was making it easier for me to touch him. He wanted me to take that thick erection in my hand. I squeezed my legs together, feeling my body heat up.

Things got a little awkward as I tried to make my way to his cock. I wasn’t left-handed, first of all. But also, the angle just felt weird.

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