Page 24 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
His eyes met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The air crackled with unspoken tension. “Here we are,” he echoed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. This was it. The moment I’d dreamed of for years. My best friend, the boy I’d loved since we were kids, was standing before me, looking at me like I was the only person in the world.
“West, I—” I started, but the words caught in my throat.
He took a step closer, and I could smell the faint scent of his deodorant mingling with the woodsy scent of his aftershave. “East, you don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready.”
I shook my head, determination coursing through me. “No, I want to. I really, really want to.” I pushed my glasses up my nose. “I’m just... I’m scared.”
Weston’s brow furrowed with concern. “Scared of what?”
“Of doing something wrong,” I admitted, my voice small. “Of messing this up.”
His expression softened, and he reached out, his fingers hovering just shy of touching my cheek. “Easton Beckett, you could never mess this up or do it wrong. Tonight, you can do whatever you want with me.”
In that moment, I made a decision. I was done being afraid. Done hiding. With my heart hammering against my ribs, I closed the distance between us, bringing my face mere inches from his. “Kiss me,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness.
Weston’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a grin spread across his face. “I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, leaning in.
As our lips met, I felt like I was soaring and falling all at once. Years of longing, of quiet pining, culminated in this perfect moment. His arms encircled me, pulling me close, and I melted into his embrace.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless and flushed, I couldn’t help but grin. His fingers brushed against my cheek, his touch so tender it sent shivers down my spine. I leaned into his hand, savoring the warmth and reassurance it brought. His eyes, usually so playful, now held a depth of emotion that made my breath catch.
“East,” he murmured, his voice rough with feeling. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I am.” My heart was racing, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through me. This was Weston, my best friend since kindergarten, the boy who’d stolen my heart years ago without even realizing it. And now, here we were,on the precipice of something new, something terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Slowly, deliberately, his hands moved to the buttons of my shirt. “May I?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the top button.
“West, you don’t have to keep asking. I want this. Want you.” I breathed, my own hands reaching for the hem of his t-shirt.
We undressed each other with reverent care, each piece of clothing falling away like a barrier between us. I couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, the play of light and shadow accentuating every curve and plane. The compass tattoo over his heart, with its red E and W, seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, tracing the outline of the tattoo with my fingertip.
Weston caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “So are you. God, you have no idea how desirable you are. You’ve been driving me crazy in those new tight clothes and tiny swim trunks with that thin strip of hair peeking out over the top of your waistband.”
“Really? Me? I didn’t think you’d even notice.”
His eyes darkened with desire. “I always notice you. Always.”
His words sent a shiver through me. Unable to resist any longer, I sank to my knees before him, my hands resting on his strong thighs. I looked up at him through my lashes, seeking permission.
“East,” he breathed, his fingers threading through my hair. “You don’t have to?—”
“I want to,” I assured him, my voice husky with need. “Let me taste you, West. Please.”
A groan escaped him as I took him into my mouth. The heady scent of his arousal filled my senses, masculine and intoxicating.He tasted of salt and musk, a flavor uniquely Weston that had me moaning around him.
I savored every inch, worshipping him with lips and tongue, relishing the weight of him on my tongue. I looked up, meeting his gaze as I took him deeper, and the raw desire I saw there made me shudder with want.
His fingers tightened in my hair as I worked him with growing confidence. His breath came in ragged gasps, punctuated by low moans that sent sparks of arousal through my body. I could feel him trembling with the effort of holding back, of not thrusting into my mouth.
He panted above me. “Fuck, you feel so good. But if you keep going, I’m going to?—”
I pulled off with a wet pop, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Isn’t that the point?” I asked, voice rough.
He chuckled breathlessly, cupping my cheek. “Not yet. I want to make this last. Want to make you feel as good as you’re making me feel.” He gently pulled me to my feet, his eyes roaming over my body with unbridled desire. “Perfect,” he murmured, his hands skimming down my sides.
