Page 60 of Teach Me to Laugh

The man was going to strip me down until I was filleted raw. “Beckett,”

“You’ll have me for as long as you want me.”

“You’ve got a really weird penchant for pain, you know that?”

He laughed, and then he was serious. “When it comes to you, I’ve got a penchant for anything.”

Goodness, this man was sweet in a way I wasn’t all that certain I deserved. I was a girl on guard, but I did try to be open for him. I tried to be good and kind. I tried to be helpful. I just—tried.

So when I wiggled in his lap to lift my face to his, my lips to his, it took serious guts. Guts I didn’t know I had.

But then I heard the small groan of appreciation in the back of his throat a moment before his lips started to move against mine, his hand on my neck sifting into my hair, my body turning to flames. In that moment I realized having guts was totally worth it.

It was with the ringing of his groan in my mind that I decided to screw fear. Screw holding back and screw delay. I felt things for this man that felt like ages in the making.

So when I felt the ache in my belly to be closer to him, I didn’t fight it. I didn’t even hesitate. I twisted in his arms until I had one leg on either side of his thick body, my arms looped around his neck. And I was still kissing him. He had one hand tossed around my waist, saving me from falling to the floor in the event I lost balance, and the other in my hair. His mouth on mine had gone from soft and uncertain to hungry and fierce.

The ember he’d ignited in my belly burst into hot, high flames. Suddenly, the fact that I was in my satin housecoat and only my housecoat had my body burning even hotter. I was twenty-two years old and I’d never let myself get this hot for a man. I was twenty-two years old and I was hungry, starving, ravaged for this intense affection.

“Beckett,” I moaned his name against his lips, and his arm tightened around me, pulling my body into his. And that’s when I felt it—his erection. It was hard and so very there between us, pressing into my thigh. A hot ache swept through me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes at the feel of his desire raging wild for me.

But then he pulled his mouth from mine, his warm eyes hooded and gentle. My cheeks flamed.

“Hey,” he smiled slowly. “Don’t hide now. That was—it was beautiful.”

“Beck . . .”

“I didn’t stop because I wanted to stop. I stopped because I want to take this slow with you. I want you to trust that I won’t let it go farther or faster than you’re ready to let it go.”

“I,” I didn’t know what to say.

“We only just started,” kissing my jaw, he murmured. “I have so many things I want to do to you before we get to that. So many things I want to give you.”

“Oh,” the sound was shaky. “Okay.”

“We’ll start tonight.” He declared and the butterflies in my belly were suddenly set free.

“We will?”

“Yeah baby,”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

He was still grinning. I knew this, because I could feel it against my throat. “I do.”

Well, since I was tossing care to the wind, I decided to give him my trust. All of my trust, as I whispered, “Okay.”

Chili had tasted great, but it was nothing compared to the taste of Amara. Her eyes were a warm blue; all the ice that had lived for years inside had melted. I’d been giving it all I had to melt the little bit that had remained after our kiss earlier today—and I’d succeeded. Amara was in my t-shirt in the bed we were sharing, and I was hovering above her, kissing her, grinding into her, and tasting her. I felt like a teenager again, in the thralls of exploringa girl. My hands didn’t fumble and my kisses weren’t hesitant, but the layers of clothing that remained between our bodies had me reminiscing.

So I couldn’t say if it was her purity or the gentle innocence in our exploration, but there was something undeniably sweet about our make-out session. I had enough experience to know how to touch her to make her moan, but I didn’t want to pull out all the stops tonight. I didn’t want to flood her first time with me, with everything all at once.

Amara hadn’t admitted to being a virgin, and sometimes when she said things, I found myself questioning my suspicion, but it was when she was beneath me, or in my arms that I found that suspicion obliterated.

I wanted to give her everything, and everything included a build-up to the act. Everything included the hot and heavy that every girl deserved to experience before the act of sex ensued. I was all for wild, unplanned sex. I’d had my fair share of one-nighters, but with Amara, I felt it was important to give her this. So hot and heavy was what I was giving.

It was also what she was loving.

Her pink lips were swollen and red, and her blue eyes were warm and hazy. Her little body writhed beneath me, and I could feel my length, hard and hot, pulsing against her core. My body was between her legs and I’d moved from kissing her mouth, to her jaw, to her throat—and now I was giving attention to that sensitive place behind her ear.

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