Chapter 9 Delilah
Chapter nine
Delilah
The kiss is soft, restrained, his fingers threading through mine and squeezing like he’d rather rip my clothes off and ravage me this second but is instead taking his time. And somehow, knowing that has that ball of heat in my belly coiling tighter and tighter.
I’ve kissed guys before. Not many, but I’ve done it.
But none of them felt like this. Like a man. With muscles, and strength, and stupidly blue eyes, and hair I can run my fingers through. I tug gently, almost unintentionally, and Graham moans—moans—into my mouth.
Suddenly his hands are around my waist and he’s hoisting me up, positioning me so that I’m straddling his lap.
I squeak in surprise only to have my lips captured by his again.
And while I’m on top of him, he’s the one totally in control.
His hands gently squeeze my waist, run up my back then down again, skimming my thighs until he finds bare skin and squeezes softly.
I whimper quietly, and Graham breaks our kiss to press his lips against my jaw, then slowly down my neck.
I sigh, tilting my head back, my mouth parting. Fuck, I had no idea being kissed on your neck felt like this. It has no business feeling this good. Like electricity skipping across your skin, mingling with the heat inside and setting everything on fire.
Graham presses kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, to the V of my sundress. He pauses, looking up at me, his blue eyes catching mine. “Can I touch you here?” he breathes, his hand splayed out across my ribcage, right below my breast.
I simply nod, and, eyes still on mine, Graham slowly slides his hand up over my breast, finding my raised nipple through the fabric and softly running his thumb over it. My breasts are small, small enough to get away with not wearing a bra—especially in a dress like this.
I bite my lip as a whimper slips free.
“You like that?” he breathes.
“Yes,” I whisper, my back arching slightly.
He presses his thumb a bit harder, rubbing a bit faster. With his free hand, he grabs the nape of my neck, pulling me back into a kiss, and then his hand goes to my other breast, massaging gently.
I grip his shoulders, whimpering softly into the kiss, and suddenly, I’m grinding my hips against his.
I didn’t really think to do it—I just am.
But Graham seems to approve, moaning softly into my mouth.
I feel him sliding down the spaghetti straps of my dress, then tugging gently, and suddenly my nipples are pebbling against the cool air of the room.
He breaks our kiss, and I don’t even have a moment to feel self-conscious in front of him before he’s leaned forward to slide his tongue over my bare nipple.
“Oh god.” My eyes flutter closed, my head leaning back. I don’t know what he’s doing now—sucking, nibbling, licking—but holy fuck does it feel good.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders as pleasure courses through me. Raw and bright and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Sure, I’ve played with my tits before. But having someone else do it? Who knew it was so much better?
Graham moves to the other breast while I grind shamelessly against him.
My mind is a foggy mess, thick with pleasure and this moment.
But through it all, I can feel the evidence of Graham’s arousal through his jeans, so close to me, thick and hard.
And suddenly it hits me that here I am, with a man, half naked on his lap, about to …
“It’s big.” His words flit through my mind—probably something that would excite most women but only kind of terrifies me. Because what if this was a bad idea? What if it hurts? Like, a lot? And what if I do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, mess this up somehow?
But is it too late? Have we taken this too far?
And then there’s the shame again—spiraling up inside of me like a tornado. Shame for backing out. For doing this at all. For enjoying this, for asking for this, for stopping this.
“Dee?”
I suck in a gasp of air, only to realize this isn’t the first one I’ve taken.
“Delilah.” Graham’s hands are on either side of my face, forcing me to look down at him. “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s going on in there?” He smiles softly, tapping the side of my head gently, although his eyes are rimmed with concern.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’m dangerously close to doing both. “I’m …” I swallow. “Scared.”
Graham simply nods, and then he’s gently pulling the top of my dress back up, repositioning my spaghetti straps.
“What are you …?” I start.
“We don’t have to do this today,” he says simply.
Panic surges through me, then disappointment, and then frustration. In myself. “No. Please. I promise I’m fine. It was just a moment, just—”
Graham takes my hand in his, squeezing. “I’m not saying never, Delilah. Just not tonight.”
And suddenly the panic is gone. Replaced by … relief.
“Come here,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him.
I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, breathing in pine and wood and peppermint. “How did you know?” I ask quietly.
He chuckles, warm and deep. “You think I can’t tell when a woman isn’t enjoying herself?”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur into his neck.
“Why?”
I’m silent for a moment, long enough for Graham to lean back, searching for my face, prompting me to sit up.
I do, sliding off his lap and curling up on the couch cushion beside him. His gaze follows me, the question still there.
“Because … I don’t know, you were expecting to have sex tonight, and now you’re not,” I say, avoiding his eyes.
He grins at this, to my surprise. “Sex is only fun when both people are into it.”
I shrug. “Yeah, but—”
“And you can always say no. Change your mind. At any time,” he interrupts me, his expression hardening. “I’m serious, Delilah, if any guy ever pressures you to do anything you don’t want to, I want you to kick him in the balls. Maybe we should add that to our lesson itinerary.”
This pulls a giggle from me, and Graham’s face softens. We’re silent for a moment, the embarrassment lessening.
“How about we just take things slow?” Graham suggests after a moment. “We meet up, we do what you feel comfortable with, and if and when it happens, it happens.”
Part of me wants to resist, to insist that I can be a big girl, get over my shit, and just do this. But another part feels something warm and soft and comforting. Something that feels an awful lot like relief and … safety?
I guess I’d always assumed that sex would be this big, scary thing, and so I’d ignored my fears leading up to today. But when Graham puts it like that, laid out all calm, no pressure, it’s shocking to me that having sex for the first time suddenly feels … well, not terrifying, at least.
“Okay,” I agree, and the word feels good.
“Okay,” he repeats with a smile.
And I’d never truly understood what it was about Graham that attracted so many women over all these years. That made him the popular bachelor he is. But I think I get it now.