Page 12 of The Players We Hate
I froze. So did he.
It took me a second to realize it was my phone tucked in my front pocket, vibrating against his thigh.
Talon stepped back a fraction, eyebrows drawing together, but I shook my head quickly.
“It’s nothing,” I whispered, breath catching.
He didn’t push, but then it vibrated again. Somehow it seemed longer this time.
He exhaled slowly, voice rough but careful. “Something tells me you should probably answer that.”
“I don’t want to,” I murmured, gripping the front of his shirt again, trying to pull him back to me.
He tilted his chin down, enough to meet my gaze. His eyes searched mine for what I wasn’t saying.
“Wren…” His voice was quieter now, steadier. “You deserve better for your first time.”
I blinked up at him, heat blooming across my skin, confused by the shift. “You think this is me asking for less?”
He shook his head, brushing a thumb lightly along my cheekbone. “I think this is you trying to outrun something,” he said gently. “And I’d be the asshole who let you.”
My throat tightened, and I exhaled a shaky breath. “Isn’t losing your virginity at a party practically a college rite of passage?”
His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile that never reached his eyes.
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean it should happen with a guy you barely know, in a place you’ll forget, just to prove you can.”
I stared at him, heart thudding, something tightening low in my chest. “What makes you think I could ever forget this?” I whispered.
He froze, his expression flickering with surprise, as though he hadn’t considered this could matter to me too.
“I’m not asking for everything,” I added, voice quieter now. “All I want is you to make me feel… something. Anything.”
He didn’t understand that this was the first time in as long as I could remember that I’d felt alive. Talon studied me again, gaze dragging slowly over my face, and deep down, he already knew the answer.
Still, he asked, “What do you want, Wren?”
My chest tightened. My voice was small when it came out. “I want you to touch me.”
His gaze darkened. He moved with a careful patience, as though I might break, but he knew I could take the weight of him anyway.
He eased me back onto the mattress, his hand behind my shoulders as he lowered me. I felt the soft give of the bed beneath me and the warmth of his body as he settled between my legs, bracing himself with one hand planted beside my hip.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmured.
I nodded. “I will.”
The slow grind of his hips, the firm drag of denim over my center, sent a gasp spilling from my lips, and I arched into him. His mouth found mine again.
His hand slipped beneath my shirt, unhurried, exploring. He broke the kiss to trail his mouth along my jaw, lower still, his breath warm against my skin. Then his fingers caughtthe hem of my shirt, tugging it up and over my head. The top landed somewhere on the floor as his eyes lingered on me for a beat before his mouth claimed mine again.
When his hand dipped under the waistband of my jeans, he paused.
I met his gaze, breathless. “Please.”
He bent to press a kiss to the inside of my ankle, then slowly worked my jeans and underwear down my legs, his knuckles brushing my skin. And when his mouth replaced where his fingers had teased me moments ago, I forgot how to breathe.
Talon’s tongue parted me gently. The first stroke made my hips jolt. My fingers clutched the sheets, and my other hand tangled in his chocolate-brown hair as I moaned his name.
