Page 17

When I put my clothes on and took a few steps toward the bathroom door, my heart seemed to beat in my throat, and I closed my eyes.

There was a chance I would step out there and find Patrick fiddling with his phone, looking at me awkwardly and apologizing for changing his mind.

Hell, he might not even be there. I didn’t know how long I’d been in the bathroom; I just knew I’d seen him naked before, and if my hunch was right, I needed to be ready.

Whatever was out there, I had to stay calm.

I opened the door, light and steam pouring into the bedroom, and my eyes almost popped out with shock.

Every empty surface, every scrap of table or nightstand, was covered with candles, their wild scents of orange, cinnamon, rose, apple, leather, chocolate, and vanilla filling the room until it felt like walking through a tangible thickness of scents.

Patrick stood in the far corner of the room, arms crossed on his chest, chin high, and gaze sharp. “It’s all the candles I could find,” he said.

I looked around again. “It’s about a million more than I’d expected.”

He bit his lower lip hard and let his arms drop to his sides. He still wore his black shirt, a few top buttons undone for a roguish look, light cream pants tight on his muscled legs, chest rising high with each breath. “You didn’t…change your mind, did you?”

I wanted to laugh, but only a nervous breath escaped me. I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”

Those three words gave him confidence. I could see that each step closer was firmer, more decisive, until he stopped a pace away from me.

It was like he had walked away from a shadow of doubts and stood before me with nothing but decision.

His gaze scanned me slowly, and I tucked my hands into my pockets, not sure if I needed to do something to move this along.

“You’re already hard,” Patrick said, his voice a little cheeky.

I snorted. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“You tested me,” Patrick said, but it wasn’t an accusation. There was almost a note of respect in his voice. “You took my pulse every time we were alone and in, ah, risky situations.”

I shook my head, hating that he was still talking about this. But he had every right. Except he wasn’t making me face the ethical breaches; he was teasing me.

“That’s kinda hot,” Patrick said, his voice dropping half an octave lower, raspy and husky, the last word crackling with possibilities.

“What do you think you’ll see now?” he asked, baring his wrist to show me the smartwatch.

“A smart guy like you, looking at data tomorrow like it’s a dirty photo,” he said, close to laughing. “Wanna find out?”

My mouth was dry and throat tight with tension, but it wasn’t the bad kind. Hell, I lived for this feeling now. I wanted him to keep going. I wanted him to stretch me so thinly that I would be ready to snap. “Yes,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

Patrick lit up a little. “Take your clothes off,” he said. “Let me see you.” A shiver passed over him, and I could see the spike in his heartbeat without downloading the data from the watch.

“Won’t you kiss me first?” I asked.

Whatever it was—pleading, asserting, yearning—it made Patrick’s eyes shine brighter.

He reached over, his hand closing around my hoodie, and pulled me in.

His lips touched mine, a far sweeter kiss than the raw inability to resist the temptation downstairs.

He kissed me softly, his tongue slipping just between my lips, and he lifted his head a little, just enough to be out of my reach.

“I’m gonna kiss every inch of you if you do as I say,” he said.

Oh, fuck , I thought, my knees buckling.

Patrick stepped back, his eyes hungry for it.

I didn’t hesitate anymore. I took the edge of my hoodie and pulled it over my head, replacing my glasses as soon as the hoodie was off.

I didn’t wear an undershirt. It was just me, tall, slim, lanky as fuck, but something in Patrick’s eyes glimmered with unfiltered desire.

He wanted me like this. There was no mistaking it.

“Your pants,” he said, his gaze dragging slowly down my torso to where my cock bulged toward my right hip.

My pants were baggy and loose. I undid one button, and they opened, sliding easily down my legs and leaving me in my dark blue briefs. The seam along my leg was lifted off the flesh with how hard I was and how far the fabric was stretched.

I stepped out of my pants as Patrick bit his lower lip, his gaze caressing my cock. I’d expected at least a little uncertainty from him, but there was none. Not anymore.

“Now you,” I said.

The corners of his lips ticked up, and he nodded.

“Fair enough.” He undid the buttons of his shirt, one after another, and so slowly that I wanted to cross the space between us and rip it apart.

Flesh revealed itself inch by grueling inch, until Patrick shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and let it fold on the floor.

He was divine, but that was no surprise.

Taut skin stretched over the firm muscles of his torso, and I followed their curves all the way to his Apollo’s belt.

He didn’t need me to ask; he pulled the belt out of his pants and took them off, bending down to drag them over his feet, then straightening to reveal that the bulge in his bright red boxer briefs was as fierce and excited as mine, if significantly bigger.

My throat tightened with a mix of surprise and devastating lust.

Patrick grinned. “You first,” he said.

I scoff-chuckled. It was an immature, childish game, but I played it anyway. I hooked my thumbs inside my underwear, but an alarm went off and made my heart drop.

Patrick glanced at the watch on his wrist and laughed. “Look at that,” he said. An alert was flashing a warning that his heartbeat was too high, proposing to call the emergency hotline.

Instead of undressing, I stepped closer to Patrick and took his hand in both of mine. “I don’t need this data, Patrick. I know you want me.”

He shot me a surprisingly shy look as I stripped off the watch from his wrist and tossed it on the nightstand by the cluster of candles.

I was glad the undressing game was over now.

I stepped even closer, sliding my arms under his and wrapping them around his torso.

My hands went to his upper back, and I pulled him into a close, tight hug.

His body was like a furnace, and I could feel his heart beating against my chest.

Patrick held me, too. He held me tightly, rubbing his body against mine with every little move, and I just about went mad with desire.

“I’m nervous. This is crazy,” he said, voice cracking.

“It’s all new for you, too,” I said. “First time with a guy.”

He pulled away from me just enough to look into my eyes. “It’s not that. I got over that weeks ago. It’s just…” He licked his lips and lifted his hands to cup my cheeks. “I want this to be good for you.”

“How could it be anything other than that?” I asked in a whisper.

It was encouragement enough. Patrick leaned in, kissing me gently on the lips, his eyes closing as he inhaled in the middle of it, as if drawing the very essence of me into his lungs.

I remembered to close my eyes this time.

It was so much better that way. There were no shimmering lights to distract me from how tasty he was, from how much I liked his cologne, from the warmth of each of his fingertips, his torso, his leg between mine.

Nothing to distract me from the very present sensation of his hard cock pressed between our bodies.

We inched toward the bed until I felt the edge of the mattress behind my knees.

I sank on it lightly, Patrick leaning down and not letting it break the kiss.

His lips pressed harder against mine, his body towering over mine as he pushed me down on my back and lay flat on top of me.

His hands went from my face to my arms and down their length to my wrists until he closed his fists around them.

He lifted my hands above my head and pinned them down with an unbreakable hold, kissing me evenly throughout.

And when the shivers ran down my arms and into my torso, he kissed me just the same.

“Weeks ago?” I whispered between the kisses, my chest shuddering with a unique cocktail of desire and fear.

Patrick lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “Weeks and weeks.”

I nodded, although it made no sense. “You never said a word.”

“You knew anyway,” he said.

My chest rose with a breath and touched his chest. His abs pressed down on my stomach.

“I needed time,” Patrick said and leaned in. He kissed the tip of my nose. “I had to be sure.”

I nodded, then lifted my chin a little and kissed him back.

I wondered what I had been afraid of all this time.

I had imagined such awkwardness and uncertainty around sex.

Not in my fantasies, of course; I was always very confident in my fantasies.

But when the fantasies passed, the cold shower of reality would remind me that I wasn’t so sure of myself and that the real thing would be terribly weird.

With Patrick kissing me slowly, almost lazily, there didn’t seem to be a thing to worry about.

He held my crossed wrists with his left hand and dragged his right down the length of my left arm.

He kissed me when I wiggled, the tickling sensation enhanced by the fact I was trapped, and kissed me still when the tickles passed.

His fingers trailed the length of my ribcage, and his lips moved on from mine to kiss my neck instead.

The neck kisses made me antsy. I wiggled again, but his hand and his weight held me in place. I craned my neck to defend myself, but Patrick only chuckled. “This tickles you?”

I knew I was screwed. “Yeah,” I admitted.