Biggest Flirts (Superlatives #1)(5)
Author: Jennifer Echols

He nodded ahead of us. “Isn’t that the high school behind the fence?”

“In all its glory.” I swept my arm in an arc wide enough that I pitched myself off balance and stumbled over a root that had broken through the sidewalk. Will grabbed my arm before I fell.

The campus didn’t look too impressive. I’d had a good time for my first three-fourths of high school, but that was because I had a lot of friends and didn’t do a lot of homework, not because the school was some kind of fun factory. It was just a low concrete block labyrinth built to withstand hurricanes, although the gym and auditorium were taller, and our football stadium was visible in the distance. There were lots of palm trees, too, and a parking lot bleached white by the sun.

“That’s a convenient location for you,” Will said. “Though I guess you have to go all the way around the fence to get to the front entrance.”

“Yeah, I ride my bike when I have time. Then I can go straight to work after school. But some mornings I’m running late. Well, most mornings. Then I go over the fence.”

“What if you have books and homework to carry?”

“I don’t do my homework, so I don’t bring my books home.”

“Oh.” He followed me onto the front porch and waited while I unlocked the door. When I turned back to him, his head was cocked to one side like he was trying to puzzle me out.

I didn’t play games with people. Mostly I told the truth. What you saw was what you got. Maybe that confused him.

“Come in?” I asked.

He stared at me a second too long, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Sure.”

He didn’t seem sure, though. The swashbuckling pirate I’d wanted was retreating over the waves, and I didn’t know why. He wasn’t drunk. In fact, now that I thought about it, had he even opened the beer I’d handed him? Maybe he was tired from his move. I knew if I’d moved to Minnesota after living in Florida for seventeen years, I would have been stumbling around the frozen tundra, crying, Where am I?

To reassure him that everything was okay, I took him by the hand and led him into the house. I didn’t flick on the light, because that would only have scared him. My dad and I hadn’t finished unpacking from the last time we moved. It seemed futile, when the house wasn’t big enough to hold our stuff. The space that wasn’t taken up with furniture was filled with half-empty boxes. I tugged Will on a path so familiar I didn’t need lights, through the den and down a short hall into my room and onto my bed.

He sat down next to me, his weight drawing me toward him on the mattress. Street lamps cast the only light through the window blind. Stripes of shadow moved up his broad chest and arms, his strong neck, and his sharp chin darkened with stubble. I wondered again if he could possibly look as good in broad daylight as he did in the sexy night.

Will might have been wondering the same thing about me. He pulled my hand toward him and clasped it in both of his, massaging my fingers. He looked me over—my hair, my eyes, my shoulders, my br**sts—like he wanted to remember every inch of me. It was oddly touching but also strange. I kept getting mixed messages from him. He seemed to want me as much as I wanted him, but something was holding him back. Maybe he thought I’d be an ugly duck if he saw me walking down the street during the day. Or his reluctance might have had nothing to do with me. I wondered if there was trouble back home in Minnesota.

I reached up to rub my thumb across the line between his brows. “So worried,” I whispered. “Relax.” I swept my fingers through his hair and gently pinched his earring that I found so fascinating.

I’d hit upon his trigger. He sucked in a little gasp. Then he plunged both hands into my hair and held me steady while he kissed me.

I was surprised at how hot his mouth was. His lips pressed the corner of my mouth at first, then the other corner, then kissed me full on. His tongue teased my lips apart and swept inside.

We made out for a long while. He was a great kisser, gently controlling me. I could have stayed just like that with him for hours. But by this time, most guys would have made another move. When he didn’t, I was afraid I’d mistakenly given him the message that I didn’t want more. I took him by both shoulders and pulled him down on top of me as I lay back on the bed.

He held himself off me. I thought for a split second he was going to back away. But he was only arranging himself so that our bodies fit together, his mouth on my neck, his hands on my br**sts, his erection pressed against me. He settled more of his weight on top of me, and I sighed with satisfaction.

“Wow,” he whispered against my lips. “I like Florida better now.” He kissed me deeply before moving to my earlobe.

I turned my head so he could reach my ear better. I was rewarded with a gentle explosion of tingles that spread down my neck and made the hair stand up all over my body.

“Do you like that?” he asked, inducing delicious shivers.

“Not really,” I said drily.

He chuckled in my ear. This was the hottest thing he’d done yet.

He trailed one hand from my ear down my neck, traced his fingers lightly across my breastbone, and deftly undid the top button of my shirt. “Do you like this?”

“It’s okay,” I managed between gasps as his fingers continued downward. They blazed a trail of fire across my skin, paused to release another button, and traveled down again. When he reached the bottom, I panted in anticipation.

He reversed direction and smoothed one side of my shirt back against my shoulder. After fumbling underneath me to unhook my bra, he moved the satin out of the way too. With a light scratch of his stubble across my tender skin, he put his mouth on my breast.

“What?” I murmured.

He laughed against me, each puff of his warm breath sending a fresh chill across my chest. “You don’t like this?”

“No, that I’m sure I like.”

In agreement, he took me inside his hot mouth. For long minutes I was afraid I might explode with pleasure, holding my breath for each new thoughtful stroke of his tongue. Boys had done this to me before, yet not so slowly or thoroughly. Not like this.

I didn’t want him to stop, but I couldn’t be greedy. I took his cheek in my palm and brought his lips up to meet mine. Then I moved my hand down between us, under his weight, and into his waistband. I knew he was enjoying it because he forgot to keep kissing me.

“Do you like this?” I asked innocently, as if I didn’t know the answer.