Page 39 of Never Landing

I’d maybe pushed in too hard, because we’d flown into the top corner of the kitchen and I had him pinned against the wall. His head had hit the ceiling.

I grimaced. “Sorry.”

He was quick to shake his head. “No big. But should we maybe get down?”

We found our way to the couch, and Everett sat down first. He looked up at me, a soft smile on his face. “Do you want to keep going?”

My breath caught. Could Ireallyhave more? I didn’t want to push him before he was ready, but when I searched his face, I didn’t see a trace of doubt on his face.

Biting my lip, I nodded. “Definitely, yes. A lot.”

I hopped onto the couch, magic catching my weight before I could take the old springs out with me. Then, I was sitting on my knees beside Everett. He twisted, leaning back into the corner between the couch back and its arm to look at me.

“I want more,” I whispered, nervous to ask for too much. But I reached for him, slid my hand up his chest, and he didn’t push me away. His hand settled on top of mine, fingers spreading between my own. “But I don’t know what’s next.”

Admitting that was hard, even with Everett. Some parts were instinctual—kissing him made my head fuzzy, made my blood rush, made me want to get closer to him—but there was more to all this than instinct. I wanted him to be happy and feel nice. Ireallywanted him to want me back.

“That’s okay,” Everett promised. He leaned up for another kiss, his fingers still tangled with my own. “We don’t have to rush and we don’t have to be perfect, but you can touch me, if you want?”

My breath caught. “You’d . . . like that?”

His laugh sounded so perfect. “Yeah, Peter. I would.”

I surged forward, tipping my head so my mouth fit against his perfectly. We kissed slow and deep and—and Everett opened beneath me, letting me taste him. His eyes fluttered shut and mine too, but I heard his quiet moan and it—itdidthings. It made my heart pound. I wanted to press every inch of myself against every inch of him and just feel each other.

And I wanted his skin on mine.

I shrugged out of my T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. At the rustling, Everett looked up. His cheeks had turned beautiful and pink, standing out beneath all his dark hair. His eyes were blown, his pupils large and dark so there was only a sliver of light blue all around.

“This okay?”

Everett was staring, and at first, he just nodded. Then, he seemed to catch himself, clear his throat, and he said, “Yeah, Peter. Very okay.”

“Awesome.” When I pressed him down into the couch again, I let my hands drift below his shirt. I didn’t have any specific destination in mind, but I wanted to touch him—just...enjoy the feel of his skin, the way his inhale shook when I teased him with the very tips of my fingers dancing across his ribs, how smooth and warm and beautiful he was.

He made a sound like a whimper, drawing back from my lips. “Can I touch you too?”

I wanted to laugh. It shouldn’t have even been a question, but, well, maybe it was good that he was asking. I only wanted to make him happy, and clearly, he wanted the same.

Impossible, to think I wouldn’t want more of him, but all too easy to tell him that I did.

“Please,” I whispered against his lips. I caught his bottom one between my teeth and gave it a soft pull that made his whole body arch, his legs wiggling higher up the couch.

His hands were more magical than flying. I should’ve known, after seeing the incredible art he could make with them, but—but I hadn’t realized his touch would feel like this, all tingly and melty and perfect.

My body rolled, chasing the feeling of his touch and the—the way something hot and urgent rushed down to my groin. My dick was so hard in my borrowed jeans, and I wanted?—

I wanted to touch it, but I wanted Everett to touch it more. I’d crumble to pieces if he didn’t.

But I had to know I wasn’t the only one first. I dragged my hand down his chest, and he stretched beneath me, pressing onto my touch until I got to the very tops of his pants. He was still wearing his pajamas, and I paused there at the drawstring.

“What about here?” I whispered. “Can I go lower?”

I swallowed, nervous as he held my eye. But then, he nodded, and Victorious Peter was back!

At first, I just ran my hand down, over the tops of his soft flannel pants, and—yes! His dick was hard too. I’d done that! He wantedme.

I grinned, and it turned my kiss awkward.

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