Page 56 of Fight Or Flight

Brooklyn

I’m kissing Eric. Just in case you need a visual, I’m straddling him in the back seat of my mom’s car, his hand is on my boob, my fingers are buried in his hair and we’re kissing like our lives depend on it. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and I don’t think he has either. It’s like I came alive the moment I kissed him.

All my worries faded.

All my inhibitions disappeared.

I’m free.

No pain. No sadness. No fear.

I don’t have to pretend to be strong or brave, I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy allowing myself to feel for the first time. It doesn’t matter that my mom had arranged for me to tag along with him either. In fact, as soon as I get home, I am thanking her because tonight might just be the best night of my life. If I could freeze time so it never ends, I would.

“We really need to pump the brakes on this,” he pants in between kisses.

It’s the third time he’s said those exact words. The first was when we were on the beach. We went from standing on the shoreline, exploring one another’s mouths to rolling around in the sand, exploring each other’s bodies. Once we realized we were making a spectacle and anyone could see us, we peeled our bodies and mouths from one another, said a quick goodbye to Eric’s friends, and hurried to the car. Luckily, Eric didn’t throw me over the fence again. Instead, his hands roamed my body as he hoisted me up and over the tall fence. We made our way to the car and because he wasn’t certain that I was okay to drive; he took the keys and got behind the wheel.

However, we didn’t make it very far. Hell, he didn’t even start the car. He leaned over the console and gave me another earth-shattering kiss and the next thing I knew, he was pulling me onto his lap. My ass hit the steering wheel and the horn sounded. That’s about the time he said we needed to pump the brakes again. It’s also how we wound up in the back seat of my mom’s car.

There is no horn for my ass to honk back here.

Eric’s big palm closes around my breast and with his thumb, he strokes my hardened nipple over the fabric of my thin tank top. A gasp slips past my lips, one he quickly swallows as I arch my back, silently pleading for him not to stop.

“You never wear a bra, do you?” he growls against my mouth.

“Not usually,” I pant.

His teeth nip my lips as he pulls down the front of my shirt, exposing me completely. My skin heats from the swell of my breasts to my cheeks and I hold my breath as I wait for his gaze to lower and drink me in, but he keeps those baby blues pinned to my eyes.

He licks his swollen lips before grinning at me. His eyes drop to my boobs and he draws in a ragged breath, gently cupping them. It feels even better without the barrier of my shirt and a moan escapes my throat as I watch him caress, explore, and tease.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lifting his gaze. “You’re killing me, Brook. Fucking killing me.”

A frown ticks the corners of my lips.

“Why? I’m not telling you to stop,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck. My mind drifts back to the beach and I recall the conflicted expression he wore on his face as he told me he didn’t want me impaired when he kissed me for the first time.

“I’m not drunk either if that’s what you think,” I blurt. “I mean, I was tipsy, yeah, but I sobered up and the pot really did nothing other than make me hack up a lung.” That last part isn’t entirely true, I’ve got a severe case of the munchies and could totally eat an entire pizza by myself, but he doesn’t need to know all of that. “I swear to you I’m okay. You’re not making me do anything I don’t want to, Eric.”

He eyes me warily and I sigh softly as my fingers draw circles on the back of his neck.

“I like kissing you,” I admit. “I like having you touch me too.”

His tongue takes another swipe across his lower lip.

“How far are we going to take this?” he questions as his hands slide to my hips. I draw my lip between my teeth and think about that, wondering if I should tell him that I’ve never had sex before. I don’t know that this will go that far or if he even wants it to, so I decide to keep that information to myself.

“I mean, I…I…I’m not pressuring you or anything. I’m good with kissing and touching…” He blows out a breath and a crooked smirk fills his face. “Especially these,” he says, lifting his hands back to my boobs. He gives them a squeeze and his expression grows serious as soon as our eyes lock. “I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret everything we did tonight.” He pauses and something I can’t quite place flickers in his blue eyes. “I can’t take any more guilt.”

My eyebrows draw together.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why would you feel any guilt?”

His Adam’s apple works as he forces a swallow.

“Nothing, forget it,” he says hoarsely.

“We’re just fooling around,” I whisper, keeping my eyes pinned to his. “No regrets.”

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