Page 341 of The First Time

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My heart thuds against my chest. My breath catches in my throat. I want his laugh. And his body. And his heart.

But the latter is out of the question.

I need to let go of the idea.

I'm trying.

But when he looks at me with those piercing blue eyes…

"Sit. Get warm." He nods to the couch.

It's a good idea. I toss my wet clothes on the floor and wrap myself in the blanket.

Blake fills a coffeemaker with water. "What do you want to drink?"

"Hot chocolate."

"Really?"

"You have a problem with hot chocolate?" I put my hand on my hip, but the gesture is impossible under the blanket.

Blake turns to me, taking in my attempt at a confident, badass look.

His lips curl into a smile. Then—oh God, it's happening again.

He laughs.

My whole body fills with warmth. It's wrong how good his laugh makes me feel. How much I want his happiness.

"Hot chocolate it is." He grabs mugs from the counter.

I take a seat on the couch, willing my body to relax.

It's not happening. My stomach is still light. My heart is still racing.

But my thoughts are coming together.

I pull the blanket over my head. It's quiet. Calm. And I don't have to watch my expression.

I'm tired of being under the microscope.

He moves towards the couch. "You're not good at sharing, are you?"

No. I'm not.

I pull the blanket to my shoulders.

He's standing in front of the couch, a mug in each hand.

"I guess not." I'm perfectly good at sharing some things. But not my feelings. Not my history. Certainly not my heart.

With the blanket, well, I'll do my best.

I take a mug. I shift so half the blanket frees. Blake sits next to me and pulls the blanket over our laps.

My eyes refuse to obey my commands. They fix on Blake's shoulders, chest, and stomach. He's still wet. It highlights the lines of his torso.

I want to draw him.

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