I turn to face him on the couch. “I’m not.”
“Every time I touch you, you pull away.” His voice softens. “It’s noticeable.”
I exhale. “I hadn’t realized.”
“What’s going on, Dec. We don’t do secrets?” The worry flooding his large brown eyes guts me.
“I just feel like eyes are always on us. Everyone is speculating on details of our romance or oohing and aahing. I guess it’s giving me performance anxiety.”
E hums. “I can see how it’s off-putting.” He takes my hand, holding it between his. “But none of them matter. It’s just us.”
That’s the problem.I squirm in my seat, moving away from E. “I know that.” I tuck a curl behind my ear.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” I reply defensively.
He leans in, and I jerk away, tumbling off the couch with a squawk. “Ow.”
“Yeah, I can tell you’re not nervous at all,” he says dryly.
“Okay. Maybe I’m a little rattled.” I sit up, and he offers me his hand, pulling me up and onto the couch.
“We just need practice.”
“Practice?” I wrinkle my nose.
“Being intimate.”
“I don’t know if that’s–”
He pulls me onto his lap, and my words dry up like water in the desert. Engulfed by his warmth, strength, and earthy smell, my brain momentarily goes offline. He runs a hand down my arm, and I shudder.
“We’re not used to being this close.” He runs the top of his nose up and down my neck. “It’s understandable.”
“What are we doing?” I whisper breathlessly.
“Getting cozy.” He places a large hand over my waist, and I lean back into him, arching slightly.
“It’s not so bad, is it?”
“N-no.” My voice quakes.
“All we’re doing is expressing our affection in a new way.” The bulge in his pants grows beneath me.
My core grows damp in response. I’m affecting E like this.
“You can touch me too, December.” His voice is deeper and husky. His lips brush against my neck, and I groan. “Would you like that?” he nips the skin on my neck. “Touching me?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Do it.” As he has our entire lives, he eggs me on. Never one to back down, I turn sideways in his lap. Meeting his low-lidded gaze, I press my trembling hand on his chest. His pecs contract, and his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply.
I explore his hard planes with my fingertips. Leaning in, I inhale his scent, hovering over his pulse point. My lips brush against the spot, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. I taste his salty skin with my tongue, and he moans. The sound rumbles through his large frame. I circle my hips as his insistent bulge continues to grow.
E grunts. “Tease.”
I throw my leg over his body, bracketing his rigid frame. “I thought we were learning each other,” I whisper coyly.