Page 70 of Summer People
Eventually, she clears her throat and continues. “My life is not perfect. It’s a big mess.” She forces her chin up and meets my gaze, her blue eyes swimming with uncertainty. “So I’m worried that this”—she points to herself, then me—“will be a mistake for you.”
“Libby.” I step in close and rub my hands up and down her arms.
She leans in, her forehead resting against my bare chest, her warmth soaking into me, and trails her fingers along my abs.
The sensation is distracting as hell. I swallow and will myself to focus on the topic rather than the desire her touch inspires. Talking isn’t my forte, but she needs to hear this. “The only time I feel like any part of my life is actually my own is when you’re standing next to me. So no, nothing about you could ever be a mistake.” I press my lips to the crown of her head and tuck her close. She’s nervous and I understand that. If she needs more time, I’ll hold her for as long as it takes to make her comfortable. We don’t have to go any farther than this. “You may be sleeping in my bed tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to do anything. I need you to know that.”
Her body goes tense against me.
Worried I’ve upset her, I lighten the moment with a tease. “Besides, Sutton’s down the hall, and I doubt you could be quiet.”
Her head snaps back, the worry in her eyes replaced with the brightest sparkle. “You think you can make me scream?”
“Oh, Princess.” I chuckle. “Iknowthat when I finally have you spread out in my bed, when I’m inside you—tongue or cock, take your pick—you will be screaming my name.”
She steps out of my embrace, and for a split second, I worry I’ve crossed a line.
The concern evaporates, though, when she grasps the hem of her T-shirt and slowly, torturously, pulls the garment over her head. With her flawless pale skin and pretty pink nipples on display, my heart kicks up. As I drink her in, the buds harden. They’re begging for attention from my fingers, my mouth. It takes a ridiculous amount of willpower to force my eyes up to her face, but before I touch her, I need confirmation that this is okay.
“Want to bet?” She smirks. “Because I think you’re going to be the one moaning my name.”
That’s all the okay I need. With a step closer, I run my finger along the waist of the tiny shorts, the pad of my thumb brushing her skin, and she shudders.
I cock a brow. “Don’t get shy on me now, Princess.”
In fucking slow motion, she slips her thumbs beneath the pink fabric, and as she lowers her shorts, exposing just a sliver of pale skin at the curve of her hip, my breath stalls. When she slips them over her ass, anticipation surges in my blood, and when I get my first glimpse of the apex of her thighs, the pussy I’m desperate to touch, to taste, my vision goes hazy.
“Are you going to touch me or stare at me?” she taunts as she steps out of her shorts.
Sassy and gorgeous. My kryptonite. “Just getting my fill.” I force my attention back to her face. “We are not rushing this.” To make my point, I zero in on her lips, then linger on her neck and her collarbone. As I work my way lower, I silently show her each place I plan to toy with. When my gaze lands on the swell of her tits. I step closer and ghost a hand over her shoulder, being sure not to touch her. She arches toward me, silently begging, her breathing picking up. I inch closer, move my hand so it’s millimeters from her breast, still not touching but relishing the heat radiating from her body.
“Please, Fisher,” she breathes.
I freeze, my focus snapping up again. “Please, what?”
“Touch. Me.” She grasps my hand and guides it to her warm skin.
The second we make contact and the weight of her breast settles in my palm, we let out matching groans.
Head tipped back, she sighs. “I want you.”
“I’ve wanted you since the second you landed in my arms.” I might have spent weeks fighting it, but there’s no denying I’ve been under her spell since our very first meeting. Thumbsbrushing back and forth across the soft skin I want to spend the night touching, I swallow thickly. “But…”
Small towns suck and this admission does too.
She tenses, her expression shuttering a fraction, like she’s bracing herself to be disappointed.
“I don’t have any condoms.” I should have picked some up the last time I was in Boothbay, but I was still fighting this then.
And fuck if I’ll let anything that happens between Libby and me become fodder for Doris at the store.
She nods. “I’m on birth control. And I was tested right after I left the show.”
My hackles rise in response to that statement, but I refuse to wreck this moment by getting into her history. She’s mine now and that’s all that matters.
Lightly, I graze her nipple with my thumb. “It’s been two years for me.”
Her eyes go wide with surprise.
