Page 25 of Somewhere Only We Know
“That doesn’t happen until mid-July. But I texted my high school coach and asked if he would work with me for a couple of days while I’m down there.”
“I am happy you made this decision,” I tell him because I don’t think anyone has told him that.
“Me too.”
Our eyes lock and so much passes between us. Nate’s eyes lock on my lips and I have to remind myself to breathe. This summer, as short as it’s been with him, between baseball and him heading back home, has been spent getting to know each other. As friends we never talked about the big things. But now that we’re dating, we’ve let each other knowour secrets and fears. Nate's fear is not living up to his parents expectations. Mine is fear of intimacy and failure. Which is probably why I’m still a virgin at twenty-one. I mean, I have no problem ogling Nate when he’s shirtless. But acting on it more than what we’ve done by kissing, terrifies me.
“Come on,” he says and breaks our stare. “Let’s watch a movie.”
I let out a breath and take his hand as he pulls me off the couch and towards the theatre. My parents went the opposite way in this room. While it’s still dark, they opted out of the standard theatre seats and have three rows of couches with deep seats in their place. We’ve fallen asleep in here more times than usual because the cushions form to your body and pull you into a relaxed state.
Nate indulges me and picks outDivergentand turns the volume up to where the bass from the action scenes vibrate our chests. He manhandles me and sets me between his legs and wraps his arms around my waist and I rest my head back on his shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest relaxes parts of me I didn’t know were tense. But now another part of me lights up.
For three months, Nate has said no. We’ve kissed and teased each other until I’m ready to burst. And times that he leaves me breathless, I try to relive the buildup by taking care of business myself. But after minutes, nothing. I’m tired of him taking us slow. I’ve been ready for the next step in our relationship for weeks. And if it’s anything after our heated make out sessions, he’s ready for more too.
I scoot around to get more comfortable and Nate stiffens. I wait for something from him. For him to tell me to stop. Or for him to ask if I’m okay. He seems to go back to the movie,so I scoot around again and this time I don’t miss the hitch in his breath or the feel of him against my back.
“What are you doing, Jaclyn?” he breathes heavily into my ear.
“I’m getting comfortable,” I reply coyly.
He snorts and pulls me closer to him. His arms drop from my waist and his hands land on my bare thighs. “Okay, same.”
I gnash my teeth together and drop my head on his shoulder.
“Remember what we talked about?” he asks over the sound from the movie.
I wrack my brain to remember as his thumbs rub small circles on my inner thighs and manage a small nod. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you,” he responds in a smartass tone. “Be more specific.”
I take one of his hands and place it over my shorts. “I want you to touch me here.”
His hand reflexively curls and I swallow hard as the friction is enough to make my eyes roll shut. “Is this all you want?” Nate’s voice takes on a huskier tone.
“No.” I want to be bold, but I don’t know how to voice what I want.
His other hand comes up and angles my head back to where we’re looking at each other in the darkness of the room that’s lit up by the occasional flashes of what’s happening on the screen. “For this to work, I need you to be vocal and tell me what you want. Okay?”
I nod and take a breath. Holding his stare, I say, “I want you to make me come with your fingers.”
Nate stills as if shocked that I said the words at all. Hisnostrils flare and his fingers rub over the crease of my shorts. “Like this?”
“No,” I whimper. “Pull down my shorts.”
Nate swears and fumbles as he slips the button free and slides the short zipper down. My breath is coming in pants at someone seeing and feeling me for the first time. Granted, we are in the theatre that’s mostly dark. But maybe it’s the nervous anticipation of someone other than me touching myself that has me terrified and ready to shoot off like a rocket.
With my shorts off and legs spread, Nate hesitates. I take control and grab his hand, placing it where I want it most.
“Fuck, Bee,” he groans as his fingers glide effortlessly through my center. “You’re already soaked. Is this all for me?” His hand and fingers haven’t moved. They’re just resting on my center.
“Yes,” I mewl. “Use your fingers and make me come, Nate. Please.”
With his other hand he tips my head back again and drops his lips to mine as he runs his fingers through my slit again. My mouth parts on a gasp at the feeling and Nate takes advantage as he pushes a finger through my opening. I clench around the intrusion and he swallows down my moan. He adds another finger and my hips lift, searching for more but Nate pushes them back down with his free hand and rubs my clit with his thumb. The sensation of his fingers thrusting and his thumb rubbing my clit, has me breaking our kiss and throwing my head back on a silent gasp.
“Let me hear you, Bee. Tell me what feels good,” Nate coaches as he teases and plays with me. It’s almost laughable that he expects me to form full thoughts when he’s doing this.
“That,” I gasp. “And another finger.” I’m writhing in his lap as that buildup I’ve never been able to reach is racing towards the finish line.
