I groan into her mouth, grabbing her thighs and pulling her closer to the edge of the desk so our bodies are pressed against each other. My fingers itch to reach for the fabric of her sweater but I don’t, wanting and needing her to be the one to willingly escalate things fully.
“Bronx.” She breathes my name against my lips, the tiniest whine in her tone.
“Yeah?”
Damn. Why does my voice sound so rough?
Instead of using her words, she places her hands over mine, skimming them up her thighs. When my fingertips graze the hem of her sweater, I pull back.
“You sure?” I ask, breathless, my heart hammering in my chest.
She looks up at me with hazy eyes, then her gaze drifts over to my bed. “Yes.”
Hands practically shaking, I grab the hem of her sweater and tug it up. She raises her arms, allowing me to slip the fabric up and over her head, revealing a simple white T-shirt underneath.
She pulls me in for a searing kiss, her fingers raking through my hair. I grab the backs of her thighs, lifting her and carrying her the few steps to my bed, gently laying her down.
I crawl on top of her, one hand pressed into the mattress near her head while the other rests on her hip, slowly creeping up and under the thin fabric of her T-shirt, my fingers grazing her soft, warm skin.
“Wait.” She pulls away from the kiss, breathless, her hand shooting down to capture my wrist.
I freeze automatically, pulling away. Looking down at her, her eyes land anywhere but mine.
“We don’t have to do this, Finch,” I assure her, afraid everything is happening too fast.
“I know. But I want to. I just—can we . . .” She takes in a deep breath, her eyes finally meeting mine. “Can I keep my shirt on?” she asks shyly, her cheeks flaring red.
“Baby, you have nothing to worry about,” I promise softly, brushing some hair out of her face. “You’re perfect.”
She looks at me, eyes hesitant, and it breaks my heart that she would be so insecure about her body. But I won’t push her. I’ll gladly accept whatever she’s willing to give me and fully cherish her with zero questions asked.
I know this isn’t the most ideal place for our first time being intimate; the harsh florescent lights in the dorm rooms are far from romantic. If anything, I pictured candles casting a soft glow and flowers everywhere, along with a plush king-size bed, not a shitty twin-size mattress that’s almost as stiff as cardboard. But I know what hooking up in this room symbolizes, since I’ve refused to bring anyone back here before. How it would change everything and show her just how much she means to me. How she’s nothing like the other girls. Not even close.
I swallow thickly. “Yeah, baby. You can keep it on if you want to, and just know we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I reiterate, needing her to know that I expect nothing from her. That she doesn’t have to feel obligated to do this just because we made up and emotions are running high.
A flash of relief passes in her eyes before they turn soft, adoring. “I want to,” she affirms, her voice absolutely sure.
It takes everything in me not to take her right this second.
“Finch—” I strain, fighting against my most basic instincts to starttearing her clothes off.
She leans up and gently presses her lips to mine, letting me know she’s sure, and I’m a goner.
Slowly, I skim my hand up her spine under her shirt until I reach the clasp of her bra.
“Can we take this off?” I ask, hesitant, not wanting to completely push her boundaries.
She nods, and with one flick of my fingers the back comes undone, and she works her arms through the straps and the holes of her shirt, managing to pull her bra out, dropping it to the floor. I can’t help but stare down at her perfect, petite breasts, her nipples pebbling through the shirt. Unable to resist, I dip my head low and take one into my mouth, sucking softly through the fabric.
She takes in a sharp breath, arching her back. Her hand flies to the back of my head, fingers carding through my hair. Sweet little moans pour from the back of her throat, and I automatically decide it’s my favorite sound ever.
Switching breasts, I give the other one the same treatment, and my hands find their way to her jeans and my fingers work on popping open the button and pulling down the zipper.
I kiss down her clothed torso, leaving an open-mouthed kiss when my lips finally graze skin, only a small sliver of it showing between the hem of her shirt and jeans.
I hook my fingers under the waistband of her jeans and panties, looking up at her through my lashes for permission. Panting, she pushes up onto her elbows and nods, observing my every move.
Carefully, I ease the fabric down her long legs, revealing her sex. I swallow thickly before looking up and meeting her gaze, her eyes hooded and cheeks flushed.
