Chapter 19
Nineteen
It’s All Fun And Games Until The Batteries Die
Miles
The moment her lips meet mine, everything else falls away—the lake, the breeze, even the dim stars overhead.
All of it blurs compared to the softness of her mouth against mine.
I keep the kiss slow at first, my hands loose at her waist, giving her space in case she changes her mind.
She tastes like the evening air and cinnamon from the Fireball candy she’s been sucking on all day.
Then she shifts. At first, it’s subtle—her knee pressing between mine—but my body reacts instantly, heat flaring low.
“Nora—” Her name slips out, not to stop her, but just to say it.
She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, tiny gold flecks swirling in her hazel eyes.
Then she moves again—this time swinging her leg over mine and settling fully onto my lap.
The rough denim of her jeans presses against my thighs.
Her weight settles there, and my breath stutters at the heat of her through layers of clothing.
Every place we touch feels newly calibrated, my body trying to register pressure, warmth, proximity all at once, as if it’s never had to process so much information at the same time.
It’s been years since I was this close to another person.
Even then, it never felt like this. And it definitely wasn’t in public, with the world still moving around us.
Unsure what to do with my hands, or myself, they hover at her waist for a second before I drop them, palms flat against the ground.
Her hands slide up my shoulders. “Put your hands on me.” Her request is barely above a whisper.
I obey without thinking, sliding my fingertips over the rough denim of her thighs. “Okay,” I whisper.
The corners of her mouth tip up. “Is that really where you want to put them?”
I glance down, then back up at her, acutely aware of how badly I don’t want to mess this up. “I don’t know.”
“Put them on my waist.”
Slowly, I slide my hands up until I’m gripping her there, thumbs resting at her sides.
“Good,” she murmurs.
My nerves loosen at the praise. I didn’t know how much I needed her approval until she gave it, and now I want to earn it.
She leans in and presses her lips to mine.
My thumb traces a small arc at her waist, tentative, testing, silently asking a question.
She answers by pressing closer, her forehead brushing mine between kisses, a quiet check-in that calms me more than words.
Her hips slide against me. My body is fully awake now.
Every nerve firing in rapid succession while my mind clings to a single thought: don’t rush this.
I pull back just enough to breathe. A few strands of her hair fall between us, and I gently tuck them behind her ear before resting my forehead against hers. “Are you sure?”
She nods immediately, brushing her nose against mine. “I am.”
That’s all it takes. I kiss her again. My hands stay firm at her waist, keeping us balanced.
And for the first time, I’m not guessing what comes next.
We’re finding it together. I slide my tongue against the seam of her lips, and her mouth opens a fraction.
The quiet restraint I’ve been clinging to snaps clean in half.
A low groan slips from my throat before I can stop it as I kiss her deeper, my hands tightening at her waist. Her tongue slides against mine in a gentle caress, unhurried but sure.
Her fingertips trace a slow path from my shoulders to my wrists.
Then she’s guiding me—teaching me—until my hands come to rest at the curve of her breasts. My breath leaves me all at once.
She breaks the kiss, lips brushing my ear. “You can touch me. And don’t be shy about making it rough.”
She rocks forward just slightly. My slacks tighten, heat pooling low in my stomach. With tentative fingers, I cup her breast and massage her softness. She fills my palms perfectly, as if she was made for me. She moans softly, and I file her reactions—the way she responds to pressure, to closeness.
“Is this okay?” I ask, my voice rougher than I expect.
She nods immediately. “More than okay. Keep going. Don’t stop.”
I kiss her again, slower, but deeper, memorizing the shape of her mouth, the warmth of her skin, the way she moves with me as if we’re already in sync.
Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer until there’s no space left.
She keeps rocking against me, each shift sending a jolt through my body—every slide lighting up another nerve.
My hand slips into her hair, cradling the back of her neck the way she liked last time.
Her breath hitches. “Good,” she whispers. “That’s… good. Keep going. I love your hands on me.”
Her lips crash to mine, hot and insistent, and I follow her lead without thinking.
Her tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open.
She tilts her head, deepening the kiss as she slides her hips over mine.
Again and again. A deep rumble builds in my throat.
The sensation builds fast, too fast, until everything in me tips over all at once.
I groan. “Oh—Nora—I—” The words fall apart as the intensity hits harder than I’m prepared for, and I bury my face against the crook of her neck.
Her arms tighten around my shoulders as her breath skates across the shell of my ear.
“I’m sorry,” I say, still breathless. “I—uh.” I grip her waist, then hesitate, then finally shift her off me.
She goes easily, settling beside me on the rocks, while I stare down and awkwardly drop my hands to the front of my pants as heat creeps over my cheeks.
Nora tilts her head, studying me with a look that makes me feel seen and undone all at once. “What’s wrong?”
I shift my weight. “Nothing. It’s—nothing.”
She brushes her hand slowly up and down my arm. “Miles. Talk to me. You can talk to me.”
I hesitate, shame creeping in. “It’s embarrassing.”
Her mouth quirks. “What—coming in your pants?”
I wince. “That obvious?”
She blinks, lips kiss-swollen, eyes warm. “Hey,” she whispers. “It’s okay.”
“No, I—” I drag in a shaky breath. “I really didn’t mean—”
Her gaze drops, then lifts again slowly. “Miles, look at me.” When I don’t, she cups my cheek, her palm warm against my skin, and forces me to meet her gaze. “Don’t be embarrassed. That just means you liked it. I did too.”
My breathing stills. I did like it. I liked it because it was her.
She leans closer, lips brushing my ear. “It’s actually… really sexy. Knowing you enjoyed it as much as I did. It was hot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Her tone is calm, certain. “You enjoyed yourself so much you couldn’t control it.”
I let out a long breath. “For me, it doesn’t feel like that.
There was this one time…” I trail off, gesturing awkwardly between us as if that should explain everything.
“I was ready,” I mumble. “Or at least I thought I was. I wanted to. But as soon as I rolled the condom on, I—” I lift my hands helplessly. “My body just reacted.”
Her expression softens. “Miles, are you telling me you’ve never…?”
I shake my head, cheeks burning. “No. I haven’t had sex before. Not because I didn’t want to, but the one time I got close, my body reacted before it could happen.”
She doesn’t laugh or look surprised. She just nods, as if I’ve told her something ordinary instead of something that’s haunted me my entire adult life.
“First times, or almost-first times, are messy. They’re awkward. And look nothing like the movies. Honestly, I wish I would’ve waited.”
I glance at her. “Why?”
“I rushed into it because everyone else was doing it, and apparently I thought peer pressure was a solid life plan.” Her gaze drops to the rocks. “It wasn’t great. And afterward, he just… went back to his friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She gives my arm a soft squeeze.
“Your first time isn’t sunshine and rainbows.
It’s not frolicking through a field while butterflies float around.
” A small smile curves her mouth. “It’s more like a spinning carnival ride you only got on because you had a ticket and about five seconds in, you’re wondering if you can get a refund. ”
A laugh escapes me. “That bad?”
“Yes, but,” she continues, her eyes softening, “once you get your balance back, you go again. Round two is usually much better.”
I swallow. “Round two…”
She nods. “Round two is when you stop putting so much pressure on yourself. When you’re ready, you try again without the impossible expectations. Also, I hope I didn’t push you further than you wanted.”
“No. It was good. Well… not good in the way it ended. But I liked that it was with you.”
She smiles. “Me too.”
My whole life has been built around expectations and turning that voice off feels impossible. I clear my throat. “I need to grab something from the car.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t look surprised—just amused. “Okay.” She rises to her feet and reaches back, helping me up with her.
I blow out a breath, half laughing, half mortified. “I’ll be right back.” I jog to the SUV, pop the back door, and dig around, pretending this is not the most humbling moment of my life. When I finally find what I’m looking for, I straighten with a folded pair of pants in my hands.
When I turn back, Nora’s eyebrow is already raised. “Do you keep a spare set of clothes in your car?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. Then I shrug; honesty feels easier than pretending.
“Sometimes you don’t know what’s going to happen.
” Her laugh is bright and unfiltered, making it both worse and better.
“Come winter,” I add because my mouth is apparently committed to oversharing, “I swap them out for something warmer.”
“Oh.” She nods solemnly. “That makes sense.”
I gesture behind her. “Could you—?”
“Yep.” She spins around instantly, lifting a hand. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone who doesn’t need to know about your… preparedness.”
“Thank you.” I change as fast as possible, doing my best not to think about the fact that five minutes ago she was straddling my lap. When I’m done, I tap her shoulder. “It’s clear.”
She turns back, eyes drifting to the rear of my SUV. “It’s all fun and games until the batteries die,” she reads from the bumper sticker. Then she grins. “I say the same thing.”
I blink. “You have a drone?”
“No,” she deadpans. “My vibrator.”
Heat detonates across my face, my brain helpfully supplying images of Nora on her bed with a vibrator, making the same soft moans from a few minutes ago.
“Don’t be embarrassed about vibrators,” she adds.
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Is that why you’re turning fifty shades of tomato?” She grins, clearly enjoying this. “Anyway, while we’re already knee-deep in awkward—what’s your manscaping routine?”
My brain goes blank. “My what?”
“Do you trim the bushes?” She gestures casually toward my crotch. “The nether region.”
“That’s… a thing?”
“It’s a courtesy. No one wants to get lost in an unruly jungle when they could vacation on a well-groomed beach.”
I hesitate. “Do you… manscape? Womanscape?”
“I don’t know if that’s the technical term, but yes. And it makes me feel sexy. Plus, during oral sex, no one needs to be flossing their teeth.”
My throat tightens as I stare very deliberately at anything that isn’t her. “Okay. Let’s get going before it gets too dark.”
Later that night, I’m home, staring at my ceiling as if it might explain adulthood to me, when my phone buzzes.
Nora
Here’s some study material for you.
I tap the link. A website loads with cartoon-style illustrations of five different manscaping options with percentages based on popularity.
Nora
Pick the one you like best. Except the last one. Trust me, no woman wants that.
Naturally, I scroll straight to the last option.
Woolly Mammoth: Let it grow wild and free.
Since Nora says that one is not an option, I scroll until I find the image with the highest percentage rating. Then I head into the bathroom, grab my razor, and yank down my pants because apparently this is where my life is now.