Page 59 of Last First Kiss
I watch her hands reach the last button, and when it finally slips free, my shirt parts open. Cool air rushes in, kissing my skin, making me shiver. Clara’s fingers pause, resting lightly against the open fabric, hesitating, before she eases it apart and lets it fall from my shoulders.
She exhales a shaky sigh that ghosts across my chest, and my breath shudders out.
I instinctively move my arms to cover my chest. I’ve always been self-conscious about my breasts, with one being noticeably smaller than the other; it’s something I’ve hated for as long as I can remember. Clara gently catches my wrists, stopping me. She doesn’t say anything at first, just holds me there, her eyes locked on mine. And I know she knows exactly where my mind went. She probably knew the second my arms moved.
“Hey,” she whispers, leaning in, brushing a soft kiss above my heart, “you’re beautiful.”
And with the way she’s looking at me, I believe her; all the insecurity starts to slip away, and I don’t feel the need to hide, because all I feel is wanted.
Then her eyes drop, sweeping down, landing on the curves of my breasts. Clara gulps, her eyes flicking lower as her thumb presses gently into my stomach.
“Do you have any idea,” Clara murmurs, voice rough, “how long I’ve wanted to have you like this?”
Before I can answer—before the question even registers—her thumb glides over my breasts, brushing across my nipples. They’re already tight, aching, and the contact strikes a jolt through me so sharp I forget how to breathe.
Clara’s usual honey-brown eyes are nearly black with want as she watches me react, roaming over me with a hunger that raises every hair on my arms and sends goosebumps chasing across my skin. She leans in, her lips brushing over my collarbone. My head falls back as her mouth moves lower, a breathless moan slipping from my lips as Clara’s tongue circles one nipple slowly, while her fingers tug at the other. The contrast is maddening. Her tongue is like silk, soft and wet, working me with a hunger that leaves me trembling. It’s too much, and not nearly enough. I arch into her, aching for more, for all of her.
“Take off your shirt,” I whisper, voice shaky and uneven as I struggle to catch my breath.
Her smile curves against my skin, sparking something low in my belly. In one fluid move, she peels off her shirt, and her sports bra goes with it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, flushed skin.
My breath stalls. I’ve seen her topless so many times before, but this is something entirely different. It’s asif I’m seeing her for the first time, and all I can do is stare. My mouth immediately goes dry, and my heart races up to my throat.
I lay a trembling hand on her chest, and the moment my fingers graze her skin, her breath catches before slipping out in a soft, broken sigh. I trace a thumb over her pierced nipples, taking in every inch of her.
Her chest rises against my palm, heartbeat thudding beneath my touch, wild and uneven. Her breath is coming faster, shallow and ragged, each inhale more desperate than the last.
When my eyes meet hers, the hunger in them steals the air from my lungs. Knowing I caused it, knowing she’s unraveling because ofme, sends heat crashing through my body in waves.
I bite lightly on her lower lip, and she lets out a soft moan, a sound so perfect that I could listen to it forever. I am drunk on her, on the way her hands slide up my body, fingertips tracing my skin like she’s memorizing me.
Without breaking our kiss, Clara guides me onto my back, her lips never leaving mine. She settles on top of me, and slips one leg between mine. When she presses forward, her thigh finds the spot that’s been aching for her. A sharp, delicious jolt runs through me, and I gasp into her mouth. I wrap my arms around her neck, and she grinds against me harder and slower.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, barely getting the words out.
She pulls the string of my sweats loose and slides her hand in. Her palm presses over my underwear, and she stills.
“Fuck,” Clara murmurs, her voice low and hoarse. “You’re soaked.”
Then her fingers move, rubbing slowly against myclit. Even through my underwear, her touch is like fire, making the need in my belly grow deeper as I roll my hips harder against her, seeking every bit of friction, but she pulls her hand from between my thighs, and I whimper.
“Take everything off,” she demands.
I quickly pull my sweats off, along with my underwear, tossing them all onto the floor, not caring that I didn’t fold my underwear into my sweats. I didn’t even think to. Ialwaysdo it, out of habit. Out of control. Out of some illusion of neatness. But not this time because I’m entirely too turned on to care.
When I look back, Clara’s standing at the edge of the couch, completely undressed, and my mouth falls open. I can’t help it. She’s mesmerizing.
“Clara ...” Her name slips out in a whisper.
She tilts her head, a faint blush on her cheeks. I let myself take in every inch of her, the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the defined V on her abdomen, her strong, toned legs, the tattoos wrapping along her side, curling over her hip, disappearing around her thigh, and the one that stretches up the center of her torso, starting below her ribs and climbing up the space between her breasts that’s drawing my eyes like a magnet.
I walk toward her and reach for her hand, my gaze locked with hers, letting myself be guided to her room, my heart beating so hard it might break free of my chest.
When we reach her bed, I gently nudge her, making her fall backward onto the mattress. Clara laughs.
I slowly make my way up her body, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her leg, savoring the way she shivers. When I reach her hip, I pause, letting my lips linger before sucking gently, leaving a mark below one of her tattoos.
Clara’s fingers slide into my hair, pulling enoughto make my breath hitch. I inch closer to her clit, but before I can get there, she tugs harder, lifting my face away from her skin. I barely have time to register what’s happening before her mouth crashes into mine. It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s hungry—stealing the air from my lungs, leaving me dizzy.
