Live For Me (Blurred Lines #2)(41)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“I’m really sorry,” Devin said. “About your grandmother, about knocking the bag out of your hand.”

“I know.” I shut the drawer. “It’s okay.”

“If there is anything I can do to help with anything, let me know.”

I nodded. “I appreciate that. We can talk about it later. I’m not really ready to deal with it, but it means a lot that you’re here for me.” It was a novel feeling and I was both basking in the idea and balking from it. I didn’t know how to graciously accept help. It hadn’t been offered to me very often, and sometimes even when it was, it had strings attached.

When I turned back, he smiled, his arm outstretched. I took the hand he was offering. He led me to the bed, and my heart was racing, with nerves and anticipation. I didn’t want to disappoint him again. I knew that I had before Christmas. Not that he would ever say that, but I knew.

Urging me onto the bed, he kissed me before pausing to yank his shirt off. I reached up and touched his chest, endlessly fascinated by those muscles he had there. He didn’t have any tattoos on his chest, and I was glad. I didn’t want the distraction. I just wanted his smooth skin and the hard, masculine, underlying motion. Devin bent over me, his belt buckle hitting the button on my jeans, his arms holding him up so he didn’t crush me. His hair fell forward and I reached up, sliding my fingers into the silken strands.

When his mouth covered mine, I opened my lips automatically, wanting that intimate sweep of his tongue over mine. He didn’t just comply, he made love to my mouth with his touch, leaving me breathless, body restless, burning. He didn’t touch me anywhere, just kissed me endlessly, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of the taste of me. I shifted my hands so that they were on his back, gripping him, pulling him closer to me.

Finally when my lips were swollen and my breathing was ragged, he sat back on his knees. Tugging at my sweater, he said, “Sit up. Let’s take this off.”

I half sat up and let him pull the shirt over my head. But he made no move to take my bra off too. My necklace thumped back against my chest. It was a tiny heart on a cheap chain.

“What is this?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you wear this.”

“It’s always under my shirt.” It was so small it was likely he hadn’t even noticed it when we’d gotten partially undressed in the family room after putting up the Christmas tree.

“Where did you get it?” He fingered it, the tiny heart dwarfed by his long fingers.

“It was a Christmas present the year I turned ten. From my foster mother. She was diabetic and she wasn’t mobile, so I did a lot of housework there, but she was very kind to me.” When Devin dropped the necklace, I rolled it between my fingers. “She told me that I had the two greatest gifts a girl could hope for- intelligence and a good heart.”

“She was right.” He rubbed his thumb over my lip. “Both of yours are immense. What happened to her?”

“She died.”

“Jesus.” Devin shifted so that he was lying beside me. He pulled me against him, snugly. “You amaze me.”

“Why?” I wished he hadn’t asked about the necklace. Or that I hadn’t answered. It had shifted the mood from seductive to solemn.

But Barb had been a very special woman and I couldn’t relegate her gift to a conversation to have later. She was one of those stops along the way that had given me strength and courage and hope. Somewhere I imagined she knew that, or I hoped she did.

“Because you’ve survived some really shitty situations.” His fingers traced lazily back and forth across my stomach. “We don’t have to do this all tonight, you know. We can get there one step at a time.”

He was talking about sex. “Please don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’m not.”

“That’s not what I meant. But you’re inexperienced.”

“So were you, once. And how did you get experience?” I asked. “By doing.”

He kissed me, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth before releasing. His amber eyes were dark in the muted light. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because I’m starting to wonder.” A girl couldn’t help but get a complex when a guy was hesitating that much.

“Of course. I want you so bad it’s killing me,” he murmured. “But I’m afraid of hurting you. Of taking it too far.”

“I trust you.” I did. “And this time I promise not to blurt out any awkward confessions right in the middle.”

“Never be afraid to share your feelings.” His fingers had shifted lower, over the front of my jeans, to stroke between my thighs. “You can tell me anything.”

God, that felt good, but it was barely anything. Such an unfulfilling tease. “Then I’m telling you that I want you. Now.”

His fingers were just dancing around my thighs, lightly scraping over my labia, my clit, down even lower. It caused goose bumps to pop up all over my flesh, and an ache stirred to life. “Fine,” he said, his tone teasing. “Jesus. Bossy.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

While he popped the button on my jeans, he buried his head in my neck and flicked his tongue over my skin. “Brat.”

“If I’m a brat, I think that makes you an ass**le,” I murmured back.

He laughed softly, taking my zipper down. “I never claimed otherwise. We’re both walking around with our arms folded across our chests, aren’t we? I guess that’s why we understand each other.”

“Yes. We do.” I sucked in a breath when he moved his hand inside my panties. I hadn’t been anticipating that and his long, warm fingers stroking through my moist heat had me letting out a soft moan.

“You like that?” His tongue dipped into my bellybutton as his finger sank inside me.

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. But he glanced back up at me, removing his hand immediately.

“Oh,” I said in disappointment.

“Take your clothes off,” he said. “Stand up and undress for me. Prove to me this is what you really want.”

I immediately hesitated. “I’m not a stripper.”

“I’m not asking for a dance routine to go with it.” He sat up. “Here, I’ll show you what I want.” Devin rose off the bed and stood next to it, facing me.

I rolled on my side to better see what he was doing, palms sweating with nervousness. There was no way I could just stand in front of him and strip. I couldn’t expose myself like that. But it didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be with him, that I didn’t want him to take my virginity. I did. And I knew he would give me pleasure. I just wanted it to be in the dark, with him covering me with his own body. I didn’t know how to be overtly sexy.