Page 72 of Somebody to Love You

Her brow furrows. “And you haven’t done anything since?”

Shifting onto my side, I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at her. “Do you remember me being with any girls?”

“No, but…” Her tongue darts out to lick the corner of her mouth. I’m tempted to lean down and taste the spot she just did, but I hold myself back. “I guess I assumed there would have been someone.”

“I broke up with Haley and met you two weeks later. After that, whenever I saw a girl I thought was cute or might be fun…” I toy with a strand of her hair, pulling it taut before letting it spring back into its curl. “I just wasn’t interested enough to do anything about it.”

There’s something like pity in her eyes. I don’t want to see it, so I look away. “I really never knew, Maverick.”

She’s told me this before, but how could she possibly not know? Everyone else did—Callie and Grant and my mom. Probably others I’m not even aware of. “It’s okay.”

Azalea sits up straight. I try to keep my eyes on her face and not on her chest or the gentle roll of her belly. I thought those curves were killer with clothes covering them; bare, they’re beyond my wildest dreams. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“I’ve been told that I was pretty obvious,” I say wryly.

She pushes me onto my back and climbs on top of me. My hands go to her thighs of their own accord, smoothing over the fleece of those dorky llama pants. Her chest brushes mine and her hair falls around us like a curtain as she leans over me, running her fingers down the sides of my neck. “Not to me.”

“It’s okay, Zale. What would you have done about it, anyway? You didn’t used to feel the same way.”

She studies my face for several long beats, silent and assessing. “Maybe not,” she says finally, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t know anymore, because in hindsight, there were times when I feltsomethingaround you, even if I didn’t know what it was yet.”

There’s a pause. As much as I want to end it by pressing for details, I can see that she’s debating whether to keep going. I rub her lower back and let her take her time.

“I used to feel so guilty,” she says finally, “because sometimes I would…think about you. By accident. When I was with…”

“With Drew?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, when you were on dates with him?”

“Well, yeah.” In the shadows, I think I see her face redden. I put the back of my hand against her cheek and, sure enough, her skin is warm. “But also…”

Slowly, my brain catches up with the conversation and puts together what she’s trying to say. It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my voice level and free of glee when I ask, “In bed?”

I can feel her face getting hotter. “Yes.”

“Tell me what you would think about.”

It seems like that’s a step too far, because Azalea collapses on top of me, burying her face in my shoulder and groaning loudly. “Can we not do this?”

She can’t see the grin I direct toward the ceiling, but I bet she can hear it in my voice. “Tell me someday?”

“Someday,” she agrees.

Someday.

We have one of those now.

Sobering up, I roll us over so she’s on her back, swallowing her squeak of surprise with a quick kiss. I sit back on my haunches and tug down her pants, watching in fascination as the olive skin of her legs is revealed to me inch by inch.

I crawl back toward the head of the bed and lay down beside her. “Are you tired?” I ask when I notice how she’s sunk into the pillows, looking up at me from beneath hooded eyes. “We don’t have to—”

Her eyes snap fully open, and I cut myself off, taken aback by the untamed lust I see there. “Touch me,” she pleads. “Please, Mav. I need you to.”

I turn onto my side and slip one arm behind her neck to support her head. Curling close to me, she grabs my free hand with her own, and I let her drag it between her breasts, down her stomach, and to the hem of her underwear. I’m so turned on by her initiative, herbegging, that I don’t even hesitate to dip my fingers inside and slide them through slick, warm skin.

“Oh,” she gasps, and with that sound, there is officially no breathing room left in the flannel pajama pants that I am regrettably still wearing. There’s only the sound of our heavy breathing for a few tense moments as I move my hand tentatively, trying to find the spot where she needs me most.

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