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Slumping against me, he lets out a laugh. “That’s one way to sober up.” He’s still kissing my neck and trying to slow his own breathing; it’s not helping. He’s still breathing heavy. Every once in a while, he chuckles at his futile attempts and then I start laughing.
Sliding off him, I stare at my hand covered in his cum. Grayson leans forward to underneath his seat where there’s a towel. “Sorry about that.” His voice is gravelly, unlike his usual soft Southern tone. I take it, wipe my hand off and he does the same. When I don’t say anything, he sighs.
“Hey.” Gently placing his hand under my chin, he lifts my head so that I’m looking at him. “Are you okay? Did you not want to do that?” He sighs, his jaw tight. “Fuck… I should have asked you first.” Regret and concern crush his face. “I—”
“No, I don’t regret it,” I assure him. “Not at all. I guess I was just…. It all happened so fast. I wasn’t sure what we were doing. I… well, I don’t know.”
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I wouldn’t have fucked you in my truck, Evie. Give me some credit here.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “If I would have asked, you would have.”
“I would’ve at least put you in the truck bed. There’s more room out there,” he teases with a cocky grin, watching me.
I elbow him in the stomach. “Always an answer.”
He laughs again, catching my hand with his own and tugs. I meet his eyes. “I was just about to stop us, but I thought why not let you have a little pleasure out of it and then somehow, you put your hand….” He lets his eyes fall to his lap. “Before I knew it, I couldn’t stop what was happening.” He pauses as if deciding what to say again. “Actually, I could have, but didn’twantto.” He clarifies, kissing me again. “I spent three years alone. I’m a little worked up.”
At least he’s honest. Three years? He hasn’t been with anyone?
I keep asking myself, should I be doing this?
Is it too soon?
Is it normal to want this from Grayson?
I don’t have a direct answer, just that I’m happy with him, and I think that’s all that matters.
36
EVIE
After we get back to his house around one, Grayson and I intend on watching a movie but once we’re alone in his room, he has other plans. It seems he didn’t get enough in the truck because he’s on top of me before the opening credits roll, palming my breasts and kissing with intent.
His voice shakes and flutters in a delicious rhythm as he whispers, “I should sleep on the couch tonight.”
I whimper in reply, grasping his biceps and widening my legs. “No, don’t go.”
“You and I both know where this is heading if I don’t.” His lips work in perfect unison against my own. With his hair falling into his eyes, he hitches my leg around his waist, pushing himself deeper between my legs. He groans, and my head falls back against the pillow, exposing my neck for his taking. He makes his way over my shoulder, his tongue sliding along my collarbone. We move together, his hips grinding against mine, his hands kneading the skin of my lower back before gripping my waist to create the friction.
I moan against his heated skin, which spurs him on further, pinning me against the mattress, holding my arms firmly over my head with one hand. His touch, it’s not rough, but it sends athrill through me to see the muscles in his arms flexing as he holds me still. With his eyes on mine, I can see the war raging inside him, but he doesn’t stop. His free hand trails down the length of my upper body until it reaches the hem of his old baseball shirt I have on.
Carefully, he slides it over my head, leaving me in my bra, his hooded beautiful eyes narrowed in on me. “You are so fucking pretty.”
Biting down on my lower lip, I shake my head. With the flickering of the television the only light in the room, it’s enough that it illuminates the want in him. “No, you are.”
Slowly, he bends forward and gives me his weight, his lips dragging lightly over my jaw. He chuckles when I whine that he’s not kissing me but eventually his warm lips meet my own. He kisses me slower this time, which sends a jolt of electricity between my legs.
Frustrated, I yank at his shirt. Pulling back, he takes it off, and I start to tug at the basketball shorts he’s wearing, trying to slide them off.
He shakes his head and places my hand back on the mattress, his lips swollen, cheeks flushed and hot to the touch. “We can’t have sex.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not ready.” He drops his lips back to my neck. “And I don’t have any condoms.”
“Frankie does.” My hands creep around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.
He rolls over pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling him. His hold prevents me from moving forward. “I am not getting condoms from my sister.”