Chapter 44
THEN: Freshman Year, November
Paloma
Bennett carries me through the house and up the stairs, sitting me down on the dark marble countertop of the master bathroom. He turns on the shower and steam from the warm water starts to fill the entire space.
I grab for his shirt when he walks past me to get a few towels, pulling him in for a devouring kiss. He smiles into my mouth and pulls back.
“I smell like a bonfire.” His hand strokes my cheek, fingertips in my hair.
“Mmm.” I pull him in between my legs, kissing his neck. “I don’t care. I want you.”
He laughs and the sound makes my soul feel lighter.
“You have me,” he vows. “Always.”
I let him go so he can fiddle with everything until it’s exactly as he likes it.
“You can get in,” he finally says before turning to face the wall so I can undress.
He follows in behind me, both of us naked, though neither of us looking. I stare toward the tiled wall, letting his warmth and size cover my back entirely as he steps into the steaming shower.
“I want to take you here, under the water,” Bennett rasps into my ear, his hands slowly moving through my hair, washing it. “Where you feel safe and warm.”
My eyes close, heart clenching, pliantly relaxing in his strong hold beneath the hot spray.
“But I can’t be slow. And, selfishly, I want our first time to be in a bed.” He nips at my ear, and I shiver. “But . . . next time?”
I peek over my shoulder at him to find a boyish gleaming grin blooming that I’ve never seen on him. He’s so handsome it makes my chest ache. He turns me toward him, my chest to his. His fingers grip my chin lightly, tilting it up so that he can rinse the suds from my hair.
And I can’t stop looking at him. The words spill, flowing easily from my lips.
“I need you to know that you are the first person I’ve chosen for myself.
That this is the first time that I’ve . .
. that I’ve wanted this,” I confess. Maybe it’s not true.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember what happened, to know it wasn’t my fault.
That even though I didn’t fight outright, I didn’t want that.
He hurt you, I try to tell myself, but the voice that’s darker, more sinister, screams back, You asked for it.
My stomach swirls again, the heat of the shower making me feel dizzy. But I hold on to Bennett. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes swirling blue fire, but he doesn’t interrupt. Every line of his body feels sharper, and I feel calmer, safer, at the change.
Having him here, with me, is enough to silence my mind into tranquil calm.
“I’ve never wanted anything more than this,” I say, reaching up to press my lips to his hungrily, distracting him as best I can from the deep confession I’ve uttered in the safety of the water and his arms.
The water is still warm as he cuts off the shower, grabbing a towel and covering my shoulders, never once looking down.
Even though I wish he would. He wraps one around his own waist before looking back up at me, helping wring out my hair and pulling me close, hugging me in my towel to keep me warm.
“I’ll give you a minute,” he says before exiting the bathroom into the darkened bedroom and closing the door behind him.
I don’t take a full minute; my heart thunders because I can’t wait any longer for him.
He’s there, using another towel to rub the water from his curls meticulously, but the sound of the door opening makes him pause. He tilts his chin over one massive shoulder, eyes dark and intense.
We stare at each other for a long moment, my heartbeat rushing in my ears like the ocean waves just outside the room.
He steps toward me, tentative. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathe his body in liquid moonlight.
Bennett is larger than most, but he’s almost always hunched. Now, besides the slight curve of his shoulders, his body is fully extended. He takes up so much space, shoulders broad and back wide. His skin is glistening from the shower, muscular but not cut. Thicker and softer in his size.
The blue towel around his waist is only held by his hand now, mimicking my pose across from him.
I let go of mine first, revealing my body to him all at once. In the shower, he was careful to only stand at my back. I’ve never stood and faced him in my nakedness, bare and vulnerable.
Blue eyes to match the ocean outside scan slowly over me, intentional and careful. The way he looks at me doesn’t feel dirty. It feels intense. Passionate, like the feeling of his eyes on me is feeding me power instead of taking it away.
He rewards my strength with his own, dropping the towel from his waist and stepping toward me.
My eyes move over his hips, the coarse hairs that lead down to the massive length of him, heavy against his abdomen. I knew he was big—he’s too large of a person not to be—but the sight has my breath hitching.
We step toward each other, meeting in the middle.
I sit on the end of the bed, inching back slowly as he follows me, not crowding or rushing me as he crawls over me up, up, up the bed.
My head rests on the white silk pillowcase, curls messy and damp.
His skin is warm against my goose-bump-covered body.
“Slow?”
“Slow,” he says, his hand hovering over my hip. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
“I won’t want to.”
“P,” he says, his mouth soft, hovering over me carefully. Honeyed brown curls hang over his forehead. “Promise you’ll tell me if you want to stop.”
“I will.” I nod as I say it. “And you have to tell me if you don’t like something.”
“I will.” He nods back. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Please.” The word is half whine, but no embarrassment surfaces. “Touch me.”
Eyes wide, I watch his touch caress over my hips and up toward my breasts.
His fingers play across my body, sure and firm, as if he decided what he’d do and how before this. He’s planned and thought this through more than I have—and it’s only then I realize I’m slightly frozen beneath him. I am, for the first time, the one overthinking things.
“P?”
I’ve done this before. It’s just sex.
The back of his massive hand trails over my collarbone, feather light up the length of my neck, reaching to tuck a few hairs behind my ear.
“Paloma?” he calls again, pushing his body up off me. The loss of him is like ice over my skin. I shiver, eyes watery as I look up at him.
“I’m sorry—I don’t know what to do.”
His eyes soften before a gentle kiss lands on my brow.
“Kiss me.”
The command makes something loosen in my chest. I push up, reaching to pull him to me, lips pressing hard against his. Desperate and seeking.
He settles himself in the cradle of my thighs, spreading me wide with the broadness of his body.
He soothes the stretch with his left hand, massaging lightly at the inside of my right thigh, while his other palm is pressed into the mattress by the side of my head—the only thing preventing him from crushing me with his weight.
Bennett disconnects from my mouth, kissing over my throat and down to my chest. His lips press over the hardened peak of one nipple before switching to the other as his fingers circle over the damp skin.
“Show me how you like it,” he says as he releases the nipple he’s been tormenting with slow smooth strokes. “I want to make you feel good. I need you to show me.”
“They’re kind of sensitive. Just some pressure—not too much.” I swirl my fingers closed around and around, shivering from the shots of pleasure driving down my body.
“Okay.” He presses a quick kiss to my mouth and ducks his head down, knocking my fingers away.
It’s perfect immediately, enough that my hips arch up involuntarily.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.” I buckle beneath him.
“Do you want more?”
“I want you to . . . to fuck me.”
The language feels strange, like it’s somehow wrong and right at the same time. Insecurity has me shrinking slightly under him, while trying to desperately grasp him to me in some feeble attempt at self-soothing.
“Not yet,” he says into my neck, letting me pull him to cover my body. I kiss my fear and anxiety into the skin of his neck, lips almost vibrating with my worry. “I want to do everything with you. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this, and I want to take my time with you.”
He pulls away again and my chest lurches, but I let him go. He smiles, hovering so big above me, and smooths his thumb over my cheekbone in soft, soothing strokes.
“Let me take care of you. Okay?”
I nod before biting my lip and reaching for him.
He laughs, the sound pumping through my veins like a drug, and settles back over me only lower.
Brown curls tickle my stomach as he stops and hovers just above my belly button.
His mouth is hot against my skin, my cheeks flushing because no one’s ever done this before.
He kisses and nibbles and licks at the most sensitive part of me.
Bennett Reiner might be a virgin, but he’s made an art of getting to know my body, taking his time learning where his touch unravels me the most. I come fast and hard, overly sensitive, back bowing off the bed.
He reaches a hand to my low stomach to push me down. To steady me.
Always keeping me steady.
It’s only after, when I sink back into the sheets to watch him carefully put on a condom, that his body raises to meet mine, settling between my thighs.
“Do you trust me?” he asks. I nod, eyes on his—always.
“Hold on to me,” he says. The repetition of the words from earlier winds through me, relaxing my muscles and my mind in equal measure. He pushes into me in one strong thrust.
My back arches at the sheer size of him. I can feel him everywhere, as if he’s inside every part of my body permanently. Deeply.
A cry bursts from my lips, hands grasping his meaty shoulders, nails digging in, and he stops fully. His brow dips, sweat and water from his damp curls dripping down smooth cheekbones, slipping over his swollen lips.
He watches me carefully. “Is it . . . too much?”