He chuckles and crosses my room to lay me flat on my bed, caging me in with his arms. “Of course,” he murmurs, his eyes flashing with desire. The fact that I create that look in his eyes makes my body ache with yearning. I need to touch him. To feel him. To love him.
He kisses my neck, his lips warm and smooth. I rock against him, all too eager to get to the good part, but he grabs my hips to still me. I whimper and he chuckles.
“Patience,” he murmurs. “Good things come to those who wait.” He nips my chin and then moves to my lips, kissing me deeply and so passionately that for a moment I can’t even feel the bed beneath me, it’s like I’m floating on a cloud.
I want to beg, but I keep my mouth shut because I know Bennett would only find it amusing and it wouldn’t work in my favor. Instead, I murmur, “I love you.” Neither of us have said it since that day at the rink. I’ve wanted to, but when it’s something so new to you there’s a part of you that’s still scared of the other person denying it.
Bennett makes a sound in his throat that echoes his approval and then he braces his body weight on his arms above me and gazes down at me in a way that can only be described as worshipful. “I love you too. More than you know—more than I ever thought I was capable of.”
I close my eyes as his fingers skim under my shirt and over my stomach. Being quiet will be hard, but I need this. I lift my arms so he can pull my shirt off and he rises up, gazing at me in my simple jog bra and pajama bottoms. It is arguably the most unsexy outfit ever, but he looks at me like I’m lying below him in the finest lingerie.
When he continues to stare, I whisper, “You next,” and push at his chest.
He smiles crookedly and reaches for the hem of his long-sleeve t-shirt and pulls it off. He holds it against his chest, hiding his body from me so that he can drive me nuts a few seconds longer. I rip the shirt from his hands and toss it over my head. Where it lands, I don’t know or care. I place my hands on his chest, palms flat, and move them over the smooth expanse of muscle. His skin is warm beneath my hands and I smile at the freckles dotting his shoulders. He breathes out slowly and I know he’s holding back, giving me this moment. It’s all too hard to get caught up in the frenzy of desire and rush things—like I wanted to do—but slow … slow is better. Taking your time gives you a chance to appreciate the other person in a way you normally can’t.
He takes my hands in his then and holds them above my head. I squeak in surprise at the sudden movement and he silences me with his lips. His hips rock against mine, and it’s impossible to miss the hard press of his erection.
I hold onto his sides, wrapping my legs around him, and kiss him back. I kiss him with everything I have in me. Each and every press of our lips conveying the love we feel—the love that is still so new and scary.
His hand finds my right breast, and he rubs his finger over the fabric covering my nipple. I want to take off the bra, so I can feel the heat of his hand against my skin, but I remind myself slow.
He moves and grabs me by the waist, turning me and placing my head on the pillow. His body covers mine once more and I feel like I’m shrouded in the warmest blanket.
He skims his hands down the sides of my body and I shiver from the sensation of his light touch.
“You like that?” He grins, his hazel eyes darker than normal, closer to brown.
I nod as he brings his hands back up and I shiver again. He chuckles and drags his hands down, this time grabbing the tops of my pajama bottoms and slowly pulling them down my hips and legs. He drops them on the floor and covers my body with his. He kisses my mouth, my neck, over the small swell of my breasts straining against the bra, down my stomach and lower. He loops his fingers into the sides of my underwear and brings them down, letting them fall off my feet. I feel ready to burst as he stares at me and I’m scared I’ll go off the moment he touches me.
Faster than I expect, he bends and pulls me forward lifting my bottom off the bed and positioning my legs over his strong shoulders.
He gives me a wicked grin before his lips touch my pussy. It’s even better than the first time since I know what to expect.
He moves his tongue in a circle around my clit and I claw at the sheets.
He pulls away and says, “If you’re not quiet I’ll have to stop.”
I press a fist to my mouth in answer and he chuckles. His laughter rumbles against my thigh and then he licks me again.
I want to cry out, but I don’t.
Quiet.
Quiet.
Quiet.
I chant in my head over and over again. The last thing I need is one of my parents—or brothers—coming to investigate the strange noises coming from my room.
I’m suddenly thankful that our house is fairly large and the rooms are spaced out with thick walls.
I bite my fist when I come, holding back my cry of pleasure, and for some reason, being forced to be silent makes me orgasm a thousand times stronger.
Bennett lets my legs fall gently to the bed and stands so he can get rid of his jeans. I sit up and tug off my bra, dropping it onto the bed beside me.
Bennett grabs a condom from his sweatpants and puts it on.
I raise a brow. “Did you know this was going to happen?” I whisper as he climbs back on the bed.