18. Summer #2
Carefully, I run my thumb over his lips, kiss-swollen and glistening.
Beautiful.
“Summer?” he whispers.
I draw an invisible line up his jaw, over his temple, and push my fingers through his sweat-dried hair. I give him the smallest of nods. “I’m okay. Are … are you?”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His voice is wrecked.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I have no idea what we’re doing, but I don’t want him to stop.
“Keep going,” I say.
He closes the space between us once more. This time it’s slower. Deeper. On instinct, my hands travel down his neck and over his shoulders in a way I’ve only imagined. His stay firmly in my hair as he licks and tastes and plunders me.
What is this?
What are we doing?
The feeling comes slowly at first. Then, as if someone’s twisted a notch on a stereo, it amplifies, vibrating through me. I want him to touch me. Desperately.
Willing every ounce of courage I can muster, I take his hand and place it flat against my waist. “You can touch me,” I murmur against him.
A shadow crosses his face. “Summer—”
“I don’t have much, Chase. I don’t have money or plans for my future. But I have right now, and I want to spend it with you.”
His forehead drops to mine. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
He gathers the hem of my hoodie in both hands, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Is this okay?”
I nod, lifting my arms up in silent invitation.
His pinkies brush over my stomach as he pulls it over my head. He’s careful, like I’m made of Venetian glass.
I stand before him in only my bra and shorts. He makes a low sound as he takes me in. His jaw slackens; his eyes darken.
“What are you doing to me, Hayes?” he whispers, his eyes closing.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
When his eyes pop open, they’re a deep, shadowed green. His gaze travels to the faded bruise on my collarbone. Lower. His jaw tightens.
I brace for the shame to hit me or the instinct to cover my body and hide the marks I’ve spent years covering up. It doesn’t come.
A look of horror or pity never crosses his face. Despite my flaws and imperfections, Chase looks at me like I’m so much more.
“You,” he says.
I reach for his sweatshirt. He helps me remove it, bending slightly so I can lift it over his head. When he stands at full height, I pop the button on my shorts and work the denim down my legs.
He teases the elastic of his own shorts, pushing them off and kicking them aside.
In only our underwear, Chase entwines our fingers and walks backward, leading us to my bed. His calves hit the mattress and he drops down, springs squeaking under his weight. He never lets go of my hand.
“Come here,” he says, giving me an encouraging tug.
I climb into his lap, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. He steadies me before slowly unclasping my bra. It falls away between us, and he draws back enough to look at me. His throat bobs.
My fingers splay over his warm, hard chest, and I feel the slamming of his heart.
“Your heart’s racing,” I say.
“Yeah.” He crooks a smile. “It tends to do that around you.”
My own pulse ratchets up, launching into the stratosphere. I give him a gentle push, and he falls back against the covers. My pelvic tilts from the movement and my core rubs over his—
A grunt leaves his throat. I freeze.
Oh my God. He blinks up at me, lips parted.
I do it again. Another grunt. “Fuck, Summer.”
The embers in my stomach burst into flames.
I want to keep kissing him. I don’t ever want this to stop. My whole body is humming.
When I bite my lip, he sucks in a breath and flips me. Before I have a chance to take in our new position, he settles himself over me, balancing his weight with one arm at my side.
His hair hangs over his forehead, his deep greens lassoing me and dragging me under.
“You might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper.
“We don’t have to do anything—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to … I want it to be you.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is so soft it nearly breaks me.
“Have you … have you done this before?”
He takes in a flimsy breath. “Yeah. Twice.”
“Oh.” Of course he has. Look at him.
“I haven’t since … I haven’t touched anyone since meeting you.”
The moonlight spills through the window, painting his face in an almost ethereal glow.
I take his hand in mine, pressing it to the damp spot between my legs. A ragged groan tears from his lips, and he dips his head, kissing and licking and sucking the skin just below my ear.
He continues to slowly rub me over my panties, sparks skittering through my body.
“Please,” I whimper, bending a knee and dropping it to the side, opening myself for him.
His pants are choppy as I grind myself into his hand.
We’re clumsy and trembling, guided by our own desperate need for each other.
I moan when he slips his fingers inside my underwear, skating a knuckle through my core.
A long finger dips inside me and my spine arches.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Have you ever touched yourself here before?”
Heat floods my face and I nod.
“Do you ever think about me the way I think about you?” he asks.
I reply with another nod as his finger explores, pumping and rubbing. He adds a second digit.
“Oh, God,” I rasp, clinging to him, and he takes me higher and higher.
“Is that … is this all right?”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what the sensation is—like liquid gold pooling low in my belly. “I want to feel you too,” I pant, palming him over his boxers. He hisses, tearing himself away from me. Quickly, we discard our underwear.
“I think I’ve got a condom in my wallet,” he says, reaching for his pants pocket. He finds the condom, tears the foil, and rolls it down his length. Then, he eases between my thighs, his forearms bracketing my head. He lowers his hips, sliding himself through my center.
“Summer.” His voice is a gentle worship.
This is all I’ve ever needed. His touch. To feel him with every part, every atom of me.
Tears spring to my eyes as everything I’ve felt for him over the last twelve months bubbles to the surface. Friendship and trust and hope and love.
His hands find mine, lacing us together as he notches at my entrance.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure.”
Then he moves, pressing into me inch by inch. My grip on him tightens when he’s in all the way.
I gasp when I feel a sharp sting and his eyes widen to saucers. “Are you—”
“I’m okay. I’m okay. I promise. Just … hold still for a second.”
“I’m here, baby.” His forehead drops to mine and his arms shake. He breathes with me, peppering delicate kisses over my lips and jaw as I adjust to him. “I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t break eye contact. I cling to him as he moves again, slowly drawing himself out before pushing back in. After a few more strokes, the sharpness gives way, melting into something else. A wave crashing, then lapping at the shore.
We gasp and pant as he rocks into me, sweat coating our skin. His cheeks flushed, muscles taut, hair messy. I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
He kisses the corner of my mouth. “You feel so good.”
“So do you,” I pant.
This is nothing like the books or magazine articles I’ve read. It’s intimate in a way I never thought possible. It takes us a while to find our rhythm, learning what makes us moan and sigh. What makes him grip me tighter. What makes my back arch off the mattress.
He’s everywhere. Deep in my skin, under my ribs, trapped in my lungs.
I stare down at our joining in awe.
Something builds inside me, pressure coiling up my spine. “Chase!” He catches my whimper with his mouth as our bodies meet with hunger.
I release his hand, running my own through his hair. He shudders, tracing the curve of my waist, slinging my leg over his hip. The angle shifts and I cry out.
I close my eyes against tears I didn’t expect. The coil winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.
“Summer,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Look at me, baby. Stay with me.”
My eyes fly open. His pupils blaze with heat. I think I know what’s about to happen—I think I’m close. It’s an entirely new experience, different to anything I’ve felt when I’m alone. Our bodies melt together until we’re one. My nails dig into his shoulders.
“I’m going to … I’m—”
“Me too,” he grunts.
My mouth drops open on a silent scream as my tears pave a wet path, trickling over my temples and into my ears.
Burning dots prick the edge of my vision before exploding into stardust. It blooms like sunlight, funneling through me from the tip of my head down to my toes.
Chase follows me seconds later, hips stuttering as my name rumbles from his chest as we fall apart together.
He holds me close, pecking the tip of my nose, my chin, and my temples. When he collapses by my side, he covers us with the comforter and tucks me in close.
We lie there, tangled in each other, breathing in sync as he outlines circles over my back. His expression is dazed.
“What?” I ask, my mouth curling up in a lazy smile.
“Nothing.” His voice is husky. His brows cinch together as he searches my face. “I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. I just didn’t know it until now.”
My throat tightens as I shuffle further into his cocoon, letting the comfort of him seep into every damaged, hollow part of me. And as I close my eyes, at peace in my own bed for the first time in four long years, I finally allow myself to drift off.
But not before I hear him whisper against my hair.
“Can I keep you?”