25
I can’t stop replaying the kiss.
Not just the kiss from last night, though that’s definitely on repeat in my brain, but the one from earlier in the kitchen. The soft, deliberate one that felt like a promise.
Every look since then has felt charged. Every accidental touch has sent electricity through my entire nervous system. Every breath feels significant.
I’m losing my mind.
After my shower, I put on shorts and a tank top and try to convince myself to act normal. We’re taking things slow, remember? We agreed on slow.
Except nothing about this feels slow.
I pull on a tank top and soft shorts, tell myself I’m just going to the living room to hang. Maybe watch a movie. Eat something that isn’t crackers from the guest room snack basket.
That’s it.
Just a totally normal evening.
I pad down the hall, already rehearsing something casual to say… something chill and breezy like, Hey, want to watch a murder doc and not make out?
Then I turn the corner and see him.
Shirtless.
Dripping.
His chest is flushed from whatever workout he just did, his hair damp and a little wild, his breath uneven like maybe he sprinted laps around the driveway. Or bench pressed the SUV. Or fought his feelings with cardio.
I stop. Just… stop.
Because holy hell.
He looks up. Sees me.
And stills.
The moment stretches, heavy and awkward and full of all the things I haven’t said. He’s said everything. I have only said let’s take it slow.
“Hey,” I manage, voice totally not functioning right.
“Hey.” His smile is soft, but his eyes are sharp. Watching me like I’m a lit match and he’s already caught fire.
“You, uh…” I motion vaguely to all of him. “Go for a run or wrestle a bear?”
He chuckles. “Bit of both.”
I nod like that’s a normal sentence. “Good for you.”
He takes a sip of water. Doesn’t break eye contact. “You shower?”
“Yep.”
“Was it a good shower?”
He nods. “Refreshing. Very soapy. All-around success.”
He chuckles. It’s low and easy and does something dumb to my ribcage.
This is ridiculous.
I move toward the couch, mostly so I stop staring at his abs. “We should watch something?”
“Sure.”
He follows me into the living room, still shirtless, and that’s when I realize I’ve made a huge mistake. The couch? The couch is a trap. There’s only so much space, and his existence takes up way too much of it.
I sit on one end. He sits on the other.
I scroll through Netflix. Say something dumb about too many choices. He agrees. I put on something mindless, another action movie neither of us will pay attention to.
And we sit.
In silence.
Five minutes in, I feel his gaze, so I glance over.
His arm’s on the back of the couch. His body’s angled slightly toward me. He’s not trying to hide it.
I shift. “What?”
“You always wear your hair like that after a shower?”
I touch my wet bun. “It’s not exactly for fashion.”
“I like it.”
I blink.
He smiles. “I do.”
I laugh, even though it comes out kind of breathless.
The silence after is louder somehow.
He moves first slowly. He slides closer until our knees brush, and he uses his fingertips brushing my jaw, then tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear like he has a right to be that gentle.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says quietly.
I swallow.
“You said slow.”
I nod. “I did.”
“Still want that?”
I look at him. At his mouth. At his hand still hovering like he doesn’t trust himself to move it again.
“No.”
His breath catches. Then he’s kissing me.
My stomach drops straight into my pelvis. This isn’t good. It’s raw, vulnerable, and we’re both hungry… starving for each other.
His hands find my waist and pull me across the couch and suddenly I’m straddling him and there’s nothing slow about this anymore. There’s heat and skin and his hands are under my tank top and my brain cannot keep up in the best way.
He groans into my mouth when I roll my hips just slightly, and his grip tightens like he’s trying to memorize the way I feel.
“Liv,” he whispers against my throat, “tell me to stop.”
I shake my head. “No way in hell.”
He stands and lifts me with him like I weigh nothing, and we stumble toward the hallway. I think we’re going to the bedroom, but we don’t make it. The wall becomes our landing pad.
I kiss him like I’ve been holding back for years.
Because maybe I have.
His hands tug my shirt up and over my head. I fumble with the waistband of his shorts, and he laughs against my mouth when I curse under my breath.
“You in a rush?” he teases.
“You’ve been half-naked for five minutes. I need you now!”
He laughs again, but then he kisses me hard, and I forget what I was even doing.
We make it to the couch again, we’re both out of breath, flushed, half-dressed and completely undone. He lays me back gently, like he’s still trying to be careful with something that’s already broken open between us.
His mouth trails down my neck, across my collarbone, lower.
I gasp and grip his hair.
He hums. Then he slides off his boxers, and my insides are an instant waterfall because his dick is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever thought a penis was beautiful, but let me just say, I have quite a view.
I take off my panties and let them drop to the floor.
I see something primal take over his gaze.
I no longer have the golden retriever fake boyfriend, I have a man that is not panicking, overthinking, or full of anxiety…
no, he is starving, and I’m his meal. My insides pulse at the sight of him like this.
He wants me.
He moves towards me and starts kissing every part of my body. I start shaking because I didn’t expect to be worshiped. I thought he wanted to get it in as quickly as possible, but no, West is taking his time as he kisses me. His wet lips feel like a burn every time they land, and I moan.
His lips find my hip, and a louder moan slips out.
“West,” I breathe, shaky, pleading.
He groans against my skin, and now my hip is like a damn hotspot with molten lava. His fingers slide between my thighs, finding me wet and ready. He strokes me, slow and deliberate.
I’m trembling now, grasping anything I can to hold on. I reach for his beautiful cock because I’m too damn excited and impatient. I grip his hard and hot length, pumping slowly.
His muscles flex, a groan ripping from his throat.
I watch, thrilled, as his jaw clenches.
“Liv,” he rasps, voice thick with want.
His fingers slip inside of me, curling just right. My hips buck, my head falls back, and now I’m chasing his touch.
I match his rhythm, stroking him, feeling him pulse.
He shifts, hovering over me. His cock now brushes against me. His soft head, teasing the hell out of me.
I whimper, wrapping my legs around his hips and pulling him closer.
“West,” I beg.
He groans, his forehead against mine. But that’s all it takes because I feel the tip of him press against me.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine, and in the span of ever knowing him, I see now that it’s always been him. I’ve always been in love with him. I always imagined what this would feel like with him, and it’s better than I could have ever imagined.
He keeps his head in me, prolonging the moment as he kisses me. He teases me by pumping in and out.
I can’t take it anymore, so I grab his ass and press down.
“Liv,” he warns, and I smile.
“I need you,” I mutter, and he cuts me off by pushing all the way inside of me. He goes slow, inch by inch. I feel every bit of him. The stretch. The heat. The pulse.
I feel whole, complete. He’s fully inside of me, not moving an inch.
“You feel…” he says, trailing off. He breaks our eye contact to look down at us.
I grab onto his shoulders and look down with him. It’s hot as hell to see the connection. To see him inside of me.
I start to squirm because it feels so good. Too good.
He starts to move. Each thrust is deep, deliberate. A vow, unhurried and intense.
Our breath tangles, hot and uneven. His eyes hold mine.
“West,” I moan.
We move together, slow and deep. His hands grip my hips, guiding and teaching me. I feel him shudder inside of me. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to hold back.
And just as I suspected, he starts moving faster.
Quicker. The pace of someone completely opposite of the man just two seconds ago.
He’s chasing his pleasure and using me to find it.
I keep my hips up, allowing him to thrust against me over and over.
Each pound against my clit makes me moan.
Every connection makes my head fall back.
Now he’s sucking on my nipples, and I’m riding his dick.
So.
Damn.
Good.
“I’m going to come,” he says, slowing down. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
I dance my hips to his. “Of course I want you too.”
“Look at you,” he says, leaning back, slowly dancing with me. “You’re gorgeous, Liv.”
“So are you.”
He grabs my legs, bending my knees to my chest, and to my amazing surprise, it feels incredible.
He pumps into me, staring into my eyes. And the look on his face gives him away. He’s coming, exploding inside of me. I can feel the warmth fill me. His mouth is opening and moaning.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I just made this man come undone.
In the matter of minutes.
He releases the pressure of my knees but still holds me like that as he pulls out. He looks down for a moment too long and says, “I’ll be back to clean you up.”
He disappears down the hall and comes back with a wet washcloth and a dry towel. He cleans me up and smiles.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
I grin. “Me too.”
He leans up and kisses me. “If you were here all the time, we could do that all the time.”
“Is that your selling point?” I tease, looking down at his cock. Wow. Wow. Wow.
“I’m going to shower,” he says.
I nod, watching his naked body walk down the hall again.
I fall back onto the couch and smile, butterflies filling my entire mind, body, and soul.
I just had sex with West Carmack.
Teenage me is screaming.
26