Shatter (True Believers #4)(6)
Author: Erin McCarthy

He had shifted closer, too, and I could see that he had an erection. It hadn’t been there before, and now it was. Bam. The sight of it so clearly outlined beneath his jeans had me tingling in places I had thought no longer existed. I hadn’t had a single sexual urge at all since RAN and now a warm sensation was pooling between my thighs and spreading out to all my limbs. My ni**les felt constrained in my bra. My 34C bra.

“Can you just show me instead of explaining it to me?” I asked, and I was shocked to hear the flirt, which I thought had taken a permanent vacation, return to my voice for the first time in four months. “I learn better hands-on.”

“With visual aids?”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip.

“Come here,” he urged, holding his hand out to me.

I did, crawling up between his legs, breathing in his scent, taking in his narrow lips, his eyes, so dark behind the lenses of his glasses. He reached out with his thumb and wiped the tears that were still lingering on my face in itchy, wet streaks.

Then he kissed me.

CHAPTER THREE

It was a delicious kiss, the kind that started slow and tentative then grew deeper and deeper until I needed to pull back and snag a breath. For a heartbeat, I stared at him, my mouth hovering over his, the light reflecting off his glasses so I couldn’t read what was in his eyes, but he didn’t give me enough time to speak or think any further. He put his hand on the back of my head and erased the space between us, and for some reason it mattered to me that he didn’t pull me to him, he came to me. It wasn’t a lazy kiss, a hey, baby, give daddy some sugar, kind of lame, puckered-lip sloppiness.

This was like when you went tubing on the river and you drifted along, eyes closed, face turned up toward the sun, relaxed, warm and cold at the same time, aware of every sensation, fingers trailing behind in the murky water. Like each moment mattered, time caught in a mental camera roll¸ captured in sparkling perfection, time slow and easy, yet disappearing faster than you could have ever imagined. Jonathon kissed like that, his tongue teasing the inside of my mouth, his fingers massaging the back of my head, his legs and arms forming a warm circle around me. It was like he had nowhere to be and nothing to do except this, and he didn’t grind or grab or push my hand onto his junk.

It was like he could kiss me indefinitely, and I could hear my breathing grow ragged, could feel my body growing hot, heavy, eager. When he briefly pulled back to study me, smiling a little, I saw that I had fogged up his glasses. I gave a soft laugh.

“What?”

“Your glasses are steamed up.”

I expected him to smile or laugh with me, but his expression was serious, intense.

“It’s because you’re damn hot,” he said, his voice low, before he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it.

“Oh,” I murmured, leaning on him sideways, my hands around his neck. My response wasn’t meant to be an agreement, it was just an involuntary reaction to the sensation of him sucking on my flesh, the tugging echoing at all the warm spots of my body. I squirmed a little as he dipped down and nuzzled along my neck, amazed at how turned on I was from so little contact. My fingertips dug into his shoulders and he eased me back onto my bed.

“Can I take your sweater off?”

That he asked me instead of just tearing at my clothes stunned me and I just nodded. Something about him made me speechless, and it felt bizarre and confusing, yet arousing. I didn’t need to chatter away to keep his interest, and I didn’t feel like he wanted the  p**n  star partner Nathan had always craved. This was slow and easy, and as Darwin stripped my sweater off carefully, making sure he didn’t accidentally pull my hair, I didn’t feel the need to pose or pout. Instead, I reached up with one finger and pushed his glasses up since they had slipped, and it felt natural to do that.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

He kissed me again, a deep, sexy kiss that had me rubbing my leg over the back of his calf, straining to meet my hips to his.

His hand rested on my hipbone, heavy and large, as his tongue slid across my lower lip and down my neck. I shivered. “Oh, God.” His fingers jerked a little on my hip.

My bra strap had fallen off my shoulder and he shifted his hand to pull it all the way down my arm. I finished the job, lifting my hand to remove the strap entirely. He repeated it on the other side and while his hands explored my br**sts over my bra, his mouth continued to float over my flesh, sometimes on my neck, sometimes my cle**age, sometimes my lips, so that I never quite knew where he was going. It went on and on, minute after agonizing minute, and I moaned, my hips grinding more desperately against him. I hadn’t had sex since August and I hadn’t devoted this much time to making out since tenth grade.

He paused long enough to strip off his own T-shirt, revealing a chest that had more definition than I could have ever expected for a guy who spent all his time with beakers or whatever they had in chem labs. I ran my fingers over it, wanting to feel him. His skin was warm and wherever I touched, goose bumps appeared, and for some reason that pleased me. When I reached the button on his jeans, I popped it, and he drew back to look at me.

“I was wondering if we were going there,” he said. “Is that a yes?”

For a second, I felt a little confused. He really hadn’t seen sex as a definite conclusion? That seemed hard to believe. But it cemented my decision. I had already decided to without going through any actual decision-making process, and this forced me to stop and think and be one hundred percent certain. Did I want to have sex with Darwin? Oh, hell, yes. My body was on fire and he seemed like a guy who wanted to do everything to the best of his ability. For every tool who had told me I wouldn’t be disappointed, the majority of the time I had been, but the amount of effort Jonathon had given to making out made me certain in this case I wouldn’t be.

I nodded, biting my lip. “It’s a yes.”

He didn’t speak, he just popped the back of my bra and lifted it off of me. He studied the tag.

“What are you doing?”

“34C. Damn, I’m good.”

I laughed. “Or a pervert.”

“Not usually. But you bring out the pervert in me. I told you that you were dangerous.”

“I’m not taking responsibility for you staring at my br**sts.”

His mouth descended onto my nipple.

“Or doing that.” Oh, God, that felt good. He took his time, sucking slowly, his hand cupping the weight of my breast. I could feel his erection thick against my leg, the heat from my body feeling trapped inside my jeans. I wanted to be naked. I wanted him to be naked. I jerked his zipper down and slid my hand inside his pants.