12. CHAPTER TWELVE #3
Her smile disappears. Her eyes drop. They move slowly across my chest and stomach before coming back up. I know exactly what she’s seeing because I’ve watched women look at me before. It has never mattered this much.
Gianna clears her throat. “Okay.”
I step toward her. She backs up one step. She puts both hands flat against my chest and kisses me. I kiss her back, and her hands move lower. This time I’m the one who stops. I catch her wrist just above my waistband.
Gianna pulls back an inch. “What?”
I look at her hand in mine. Then at her.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
The smile that breaks across her face is immediate. “Okay. There it is.”
I shake my head.
“I found it. What makes you nervous.”
I let go of her wrist.
“I’m not nervous.”
She reaches for my waistband again.
I catch both of her hands this time.
Gianna starts laughing. “You are.”
“I’m trying not to come in my pants like I’m seventeen.”
Her eyes widen. Then she folds into me laughing so hard I have to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
“Don’t laugh,” I say over the top of her head.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re obviously not.”
“No.” She wipes underneath one eye. “I’m really not.”
“Glad this is fun for you.”
“It is.” She straightens.
The laughter fades, but the confidence it gave her doesn’t.
She kisses me again and lets her hands move slowly this time, like she’s paying attention to every place they go. Across my chest. Down my stomach. Back up my sides.
I do the same.
My hands slide beneath the hem of her sweatshirt and settle against bare skin at her waist. Her stomach tightens when my thumbs move over it.
She looks up at me.
“Can I?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She reaches for the button of my jeans.
There’s something about watching Gianna do it that is different from everything else tonight.
She isn’t pretending not to be nervous anymore, but she also isn’t hesitant.
She watches my face while she opens them, like she’s more interested in the reaction than the actual act.
That becomes obvious as soon as she touches me.
I breathe out harder than I mean to. Her eyes lift immediately.
There it is, that look again. That satisfied look in her eyes.
Then she lowers herself in front of me.
“G.”
She looks up. “Yeah?”
I glance toward the hallway before I can stop myself.
Her smile returns. “That’s the fun part.”
“Somebody can still walk in.”
“You told me we have hours.”
“We do.”
“Then stop looking at the door.”
I look down at her and touch the side of her face. “You sure?”
Her expression changes immediately, the teasing slipping away. “Yes.”
That’s enough.
She grabs me then. A full grip and stroke of my dick. Her mouth wastes no time. The first touch of her wet lips makes my hand tighten against the edge of the counter.
“Fuck.”
Gianna looks up. Seeing her eyes makes it even hotter.
I move one hand into her hair, not pulling, just holding it away from her face so I can see her. She notices what I’m doing. Her mouth moves over me again.
I breathe through my teeth, feeling my dick hit the back of her throat.
“Fuck, G.”
She hums softly, and I have to close my eyes for a second.
Every time my breathing changes, she notices.
Every time my hand tightens in her hair or I say her name differently, she adjusts.
There is this quiet satisfaction in her face when she realizes something works, and the fact that she’s enjoying getting a reaction out of me makes it significantly harder to keep one under control.
I look down again. “Oh, fuck.”
She works me deeper, then she sits back on her heels and strokes me. She catches her breath and goes again. Her lips tighten, and I’m seeing stars.
She looks up at me again, and that does it.
Everything in me tightens.
“G, I’m close.” I warn her because I’m still capable of enough thought for that.
She doesn’t stop.
I say her name again, rougher this time, and come with one hand braced against the counter and the other still tangled in her hair.
For several seconds, my brain is completely useless.
Gianna sits back on her heels.
I breathe.
She wipes at the corner of her mouth with her thumb and looks so pleased with herself that I start laughing.
“What?” she asks.
“You’re a problem.”
“You liked it.”
“I like you.”
Her smile disappears as she looks up at me.
“Yeah,” I say, reaching down.
Her eyebrows lift when my hands go under her arms. “What are you doing?”
I lift her.
She squeals and grabs my shoulders while I set her on the counter. “Rowan.”
Her knees open naturally around my hips.
I step between them. “I’m returning the favor.”
Her expression changes. “Oh.”
“That’s four.”
“Stop counting.”
“Can’t.”
“Dick.”
I kiss her. The balance changes immediately.
Gianna had been in control a minute ago, watching everything I did and enjoying every reaction she got.
Now I get to do the same thing. I like it more than I expected.
Her sweatshirt comes off first. The tank underneath follows after I ask, and she lifts her arms to help me without breaking eye contact.
When I look at her, some of the confidence leaves her face. She covers it with a joke.
“Do you need a minute?”
“No.”
“You’re staring.”
“I like looking at you.” The words came out without much thought, but the effect they have on her is immediate. Gianna’s entire face softens, and for a second she looks almost shy.
I step closer. She touches my chest. I kiss her slowly. Her bra comes off after that, and she laughs when the clasp takes me longer than I want it to.
“Do you need help?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“You look like you’re losing a fight.”
I finally get it loose.
Gianna smiles. “Never mind.”
I kiss her before she can keep going.
That works.
Her teasing stops when my mouth moves over her chest. Her hands grip my shoulders, and the little sounds she makes are quieter than I expected.
I have to listen for them. I pay attention.
I figure out what makes her breathing catch and what makes her fingers tighten.
I notice the places she leans into me before she says anything.
By the time my hand moves down to the button of her jeans, she’s breathing hard.
I look up.
Her eyes are already on me.
“Yeah,” she says.
I open them.
She lifts enough to help me slide them down. That’s when she suddenly looks toward the front of the house. I stop.
Her attention snaps back to me. “What?”
I smile. “You checked.”
I laugh and pull her jeans the rest of the way off.
She’s sitting on the kitchen counter in her underwear and socks now.
I look at her, and she immediately covers her face.
“Oh my God. Stop.”
I reach up and pull her hands away. “Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re looking.”
“That’s how it works.”
Her confidence is strange. She can tell me to take my clothes off without blinking, but the second I slow down enough to actually look at her, she gets shy.
I like that too.
“You’re beautiful, Gianna.”
She stops moving. She doesn’t have a joke. No response.
I kiss her once before she has time to figure out what to do with the compliment. Then I move lower.
Her hand catches my shoulder immediately. “Rowan.”
“Yeah?”
She glances toward the hallway again.
I grin. “Are you nervous?”
“Fuck you.”
I grin. “Not what I’m doing.”
That gets a laugh out of her, but she clamps a hand over her mouth halfway through because the sound carries through the empty house.
I kiss the inside of her thigh. Her laugh disappears.
I take my time.
Partly because we have it.
Partly because I like what happens to Gianna when she realizes I’m not going to rush.
Her knees move farther apart.
I touch her through her underwear first.
Her breath catches. “Rowan.”
The sound goes straight through me. I move the fabric aside. She’s already wet. I look up. Her cheeks are pink.
I touch her, and her head drops back. Whatever argument she was going to make disappears. I learn her the same way she learned me. Slowly. I pay attention to the way her hips move, the way her breathing changes, the way she says my name when I get something right.
When I stop for half a second to adjust my hand, her eyes open immediately.
“Why’d you stop?”
“Do you like it?”
She chuckles. “I like you.”
I glance at her naked body, feeling hard all over again. “Fuck.”
I replace my fingers with my mouth, and Gianna makes a sound loud enough that her hand flies over her mouth.
I look up, licking her. Her eyes are huge. Then she starts moaning behind her palm.
“Oh my fucking God,” she cries, panting. “Rowan.”
I pull back just a little. “You’re loud.”
I dive back in, and the sound she makes is even louder. Her fingers slide into my hair. Her thighs tighten around my shoulders, loosen, then tighten again, and I know she’s close before she says anything because her whole body changes.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpers.
I don’t.
Her fingers tighten hard in my hair, and then she comes.
For a second she goes completely still, then her legs shake around me and her breathing breaks apart into a long, sweet moan.
I stay where I am until she pushes weakly at my forehead.
“Okay.”
I sit back.
Gianna is breathing hard with both hands covering her face.
I stand between her knees, and I’m so fucking hard that it hurts.
She slowly lowers them. I grab my pants when she sees my erection.
“That was…” she says out of breath.
Her eyes narrow as I tuck my dick into my pants and zip them up.
I grin at her.
She kicks me lightly with one socked foot.
I lean in and kiss her.
We stay in the kitchen for a while after that.
Not doing anything else. I thought once we started, the whole night would be about sex.
Instead, Gianna ends up sitting on the counter in her sweatshirt and underwear while I stand between her knees, and somehow we spend ten minutes arguing about whether Stanley could survive a week without ordering food.
“He could,” I tell her.
“No.”
I nod. “He cooks. He can make eggs.”
She deadpans, “Everyone can make eggs.”
“Percy can’t.”
Gianna pauses. “Seriously?”