You Make Me (Blurred Lines #1)(35)
Author: Erin McCarthy

I wasn’t sure if he was asking about us being together after today or if he was asking about sex, but I was absolutely positive about both. If he wasn’t talking about being together, I didn’t actually want to know right then, so I wasn’t about to ask for clarification. I just nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He kissed me again, hard, before pulling back and staring down at me. “Thank you.”

Heat stained my cheeks at his words. He looked fierce, and yet vulnerable. Like he’d been unsure what he might find when he got here to Vinalhaven. Yet he’d come anyway. I lifted my head, lips seeking his, and he met me halfway. I sank back down as he kissed me over and over, an eager reacquainting that felt like I had ached for forever, had thought would never happen. Yet here it was. Here we were.

When his hand started to roam up under my shirt, towards my br**sts, I gave a sigh of pleasure.

But suddenly he paused. “Let’s go in the bedroom.”

“Okay.” The couch would work but he didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver.

He stood up and held his hand out to me. I took it, lacing my fingers through his. As we walked up the stairs, it felt odd to be in the house, just the two of us. I didn’t think that had ever actually happened before and I felt nervous, like my parents would walk through the doorway. Which of course wasn’t going to happen. But the corners had shadows and the house was cold. It would have been lonely staying there alone for longer than I had.

And no one else belonged there with me except for Heath. I never would have brought Ethan here. Ever.

It was my room he took me to, easing me down onto the bed in the dark carefully. Rolling over, he switched the lamp on so a feeble glow illuminated us and the bed. He pulled his shirt off over his head and I traced my fingers over his muscles, over tattoos he hadn’t had before, one a pirate ship, another a quote in a foreign language I didn’t recognize.

“I’m afraid,” I confessed, fingertips moving up to touch his bottom lip. I wanted this so much, but I was scared, too. It mattered to me, what he thought of me. That he enjoy me.

“Afraid of what, sweetheart? Are you afraid of me?” He looked puzzled.

“No! Of course not. I could never be afraid of you. I’m afraid that it won’t be the same. It won’t be good… enough… for you.” I was pretty sure I would die if he’d gone off and realized that what we had shared was amateur stuff and it- I- could no longer satisfy him.

But he looked incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious.”

“Cat.” He took my hand and put it on his erection. “We’ve been kissing for less than ten minutes and I want you so desperately I can’t even think. I’ve loved you for five years. I’ve thought about our one and only time together a million times, wishing I had one more chance, just one more kiss, one more touch. It will always be more than good enough with you. It will always be the ultimate, because you’re my ultimate.” He kissed me. “Do you understand?”

I nodded.

He kissed me again. “Do you trust me?”

I nodded.

His lips buried in my neck. “Do you want me?”

Nod. “Absolutely.”

“Then don’t be afraid. Don’t ever be afraid when you’re with me.”

“I won’t,” I whispered, my ankle wrapping over the back of his. I wanted him closer, body hard on mine. I gripped his bare back as his lips trailed down my neck, and over the front of my shirt, his teeth scraping my nipple.

He popped the top three buttons on my fitted plaid button up. It was a blue color and he watched me as he undid it. “This shirt brings out the blue in your eyes.”

“I think my eyes are green,” I said, knowing why he was saying it. It was an old joke between us. My eyes were actually brown, something I had lamented to him once. So he had taken to teasing me, always giving me the same line. I always gave him the same response.

“I think they’re beautiful.” He bent over and kissed the swell of my breast.

I lifted my hip, stunned at how much I physically wanted him. He kissed me, sliding down the cup of my bra and playing with my nipple, teasing it with his tongue before finally clamping down and sucking. I felt every flicker, every tug and tease, deep down between my thighs, and I was gasping already, my eyelids heavy. His hand palmed my other breast and I bit my lip, moving my hands restlessly over his back, enjoying every touch, my body alive with desire. At random intervals he raised his head and gave me a kiss, sometimes with his tongue, sometimes without.

I felt helplessly inactive, wanting to please him, but not knowing how. I’d been completely inexperienced in our teen fumblings, and I didn’t feel much more like a seductress now. I was torn between wanting to just enjoy myself and let him do whatever he wanted, and wanting to be the one who gave him pleasure, who showed him how much he meant to me. But he was undoing my jeans and I temporarily forgot about wanting to blow his mind, because his hand had found its way inside my panties. It seemed he was going to blow my mind first.

“Heath,” I breathed.

He didn’t answer, his mouth over my breast, as he stroked over my clitoris and down into my dampness. I moaned, arching my hips to meet him. We found a rhythm easily, grinding and stroking and kissing.

“You taste so good,” he said, before suddenly sitting back and jerking at my jeans. “I want to taste all of you.”

I was already breathing hard, and as he yanked violently at my pants, I reached behind and undid my bra. I wanted to be naked, to feel all of him. I tossed it, desperate to have it away from me. We’d never been naked together before, not completely skin on skin, and he seemed to be of the same mind as me because after my jeans were off, he ditched his quickly. It was already different than our gropings under and over each other’s clothes in our relationship before. Our lust was darker, more mature, questing, and without hesitation.

He dipped his tongue into my bellybutton, then he shifted downward, pulling my knees apart as he kissed over my most sensitive flesh. “Oh,” I moaned, head falling to the side, fingers tugging at his hair. I needed to hold on as he did the most delicious things to me. My knees fell further apart and my tight need swelled and broke on a hot, intense orgasm.

It caught me completely off guard and I jerked, yanking at his hair. “Shit, oh, damn, Heath…”

Glancing up at me over the length of my body, his expression was feral, pleased. “Memories couldn’t do it justice,” he murmured. “You taste better than I remembered.” He kissed my inner thigh.