When the kiss was finally over, no less than one million thoughts filtered through my mind. How in the world had I gone sixteen years without one kiss, but managed to get two in less than ten minutes? I tried to focus on the thoughts that told me the quality of the kisses were both based on experience, which would explain why Cory's was the less successful of the two; Hayes obviously had more experience. And while I was busy convincing myself the kiss with Cory was just a matter of practice, I also tried to tamp down the voice in my head that was telling me it was more than that. The small, yet loud, voice that screamed at me that the kiss was about chemistry, and that I had none with Cory. I tried very hard not to listen to my body which, after both kisses, could declare a clear winner.
My poor heart. No one had informed it there'd be a competition. No one had warned me about Hayes.
"Wow," Cory breathed as he pulled away from me, his eyes still sparkling, mouth tipped up into a smile. I tried to match his smile, tried to, in some way, force myself to be just as enamored with that kiss as Cory was. "I know you're nervous, Kenz I do," he said as his forehead came to rest against mine, both his hands now wrapped firmly around my waist. I let myself lean into him, hoping he could calm the panic rising within me. "But I know we are meant to be together, and I'll spend as long as it takes convincing you of that."
His mouth moved slowly toward mine again, and thankfully, the second kiss was much better than the first. It was soft and sweet, less insistent and less involved. It was the first kiss I imagined us sharing, except it wasn't my first.
"Let me prove it to you." He whispered this against my lips, and I knew I had no other choice except to answer with my own whispered response.
"Okay."
Chapter Two
1:00 a.m., Cory's Seventeenth Birthday
McKenzie
I was startled awake by the unmistakable sound of my window being opened. The sound of wood sliding against wood pulled me from a deep sleep and it took me a moment to realize where I was and what was happening. Once it fully occurred to me that someone was climbing in my window, I shot out of my bed like lightning. I had made it to my feet just in time to see a dark, shadow of a person moving toward me. Before I could scream to save my life, warm and familiar hands rested on my shoulders, and a soothing voice spoke to me.
"Kenz, it's me, don't freak out." Cory's voice was instantly recognizable, and it took me from terrified to irritated in a flash.
"What are you doing?" I whisper-yelled, my eyes starting to make out the features of his face in the darkness. He stepped closer to me, his hands moving down my arms, then landing on my waist and moving upward. It had been exactly one year, to the day, even, since Cory had started touching me less like a best friend and more like a boyfriend. I'd be lying if I said that it didn't take a while to get used to. But I'd also be lying if I said I didn't like it.
I pushed his hands away halfheartedly, grinning when they only started at my waist again and moved up. He was hard to dissuade, I'd found.
"It's our one-year anniversary, Kenzie. I was lying in bed thinking about how much I love you, and I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come over here and tell you to your face." His lips found mine and I could feel his smile against my mouth. His hands traveled north again, stopping very high along my ribcage. "Sweet Jesus, you're not wearing a bra." As if to prove his point, his hands moved all the way to my back, feeling for my bra strap. "Tiny sweet baby Jesus," he whispered as his hands moved toward my front. I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see me. I swatted his hands away just before they covered my breasts. Not because I was particularly against him touching me there, but more so because I knew it would frustrate him and he'd just woken me from a very deep sleep. Karma was a bitch.
"Girls don't normally sleep in bras, Cory." His hands came to my hips again, but this time they moved south. He let out a soft groan when his hands smoothed over the edge of my nightgown, which only fell a few inches below the curve of my rear. Suddenly, his hands moved down even farther, wrapping around the back of my thighs, lifting me. I stifled the yelp I wanted to let out in surprise, and wrapped my arms and legs around him.
He slowly lowered me to my bed, letting his body cover mine, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other pressed against the mattress by my head.
"This is the best anniversary gift ever."
I rolled my eyes playfully, watching a smile spread across his face before he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of my neck. "I wasn't expecting you, Cory. I didn't put this nightgown on for your enjoyment."
"That's not going to stop me from enjoying it." His mouth moved along my neck and I bit down on my bottom lip to keep quiet.
"My parents are just down the hall," I whispered.
He pulled away and looked me right in the eyes, his nose an inch or two from mine. "Then you're going to have to be really quiet."
Before I could think of a response his lips were kissing mine. As if it came naturally, my knees spread, making room for him, and I felt every movement as his hips settled between them. The rubbing of his denim jeans against the bare skin of my thighs, the zipper of his hoodie snagging on the soft cotton of my nightgown; I felt it all.
This wasn't necessarily an uncommon occurrence for us. We made out often, as any seventeen-year-old couple would. Almost any chance we got alone we spent exploring each other, but I had never let it go very far. Up until that point, our clothes had always remained on, and he'd only ever felt me up on the outside of my shirt. So to feel him hard, pressing against me, well, that was something new to experience.
It had taken me a while to warm up to being Cory's girlfriend. It felt strange and awkward at first, as though it were forced, which made it uncomfortable. But then, one day, I had a moment of realization where I stopped looking at Cory as the boy everyone expected me to spend the rest of my life with, and looked at him as though he were my boyfriend in that very moment. No history, no future aside from our plans the next weekend.
I took the pressure off our relationship and realized it was easier to be with him, easier than constantly thinking about how much everyone expected of us. And even though I wasn't looking into the future with Cory, he definitely was. He'd immediately told me he loved me, which caused an epic panic attack. It was two weeks after his sixteenth birthday. He'd taken me to a fancy restaurant, and from across the table, with a lit candle flickering in between us, told me he loved me. He said he'd always loved me. And while I'd always loved him too, it'd been my best friend I'd loved, not my boyfriend.
When I couldn't say it back, when I wasn't even sure I'd ever be able to say it back, he simply reached across the table, took my hand in his, and told me he'd wait forever-that he knew I'd come around. He'd been waiting almost a year to hear me say those words, and I still wasn't ready.
There were nights I'd lie awake and think about him, think about us, and wonder if I was being fair to him by staying with him, but caring too much about someone seemed like a terrible reason to end a relationship. Because I did care about Cory, so much, but I worried it wasn't the same way he cared about me. I also worried that even though he said I'd come around in time, I never would.
All these heavy thoughts seemed to float away like vapor when he kissed me though. When his hands drifted over my body my mind shut down and I didn't think about anything except the way he made my body feel. Tonight was no exception.
My nightgown was a very thin divider between us and offered no buffer to the way his hands were roaming over my breasts, the way he tentatively palmed me through the cotton, gently squeezing. I gasped, my mouth breaking free from his, and my back arched off the bed. I wanted more friction, wanted him to not be so tender with me, but a tiny voice in the back of my mind told me that was slutty, made me feel dirty in some way for wanting those things. It was hard to wrap my mind around, especially when Cory's hands were on me, doing things to me that made me feel good. I just always seemed to want it to be … more … in some way.
His hands left my breasts, sliding down, and he sat up a little when they reached my hips. His fingertips started slowly bunching up the material of my nightgown, pulling it up to my waist. His eyes were locked on mine, silently and respectfully asking permission. I gave him a slight nod, wanting to feel my body on fire again, and my breath hitched as I watched him pull my nightgown all the way up, then over my head, revealing me to him for the first time ever.
I was trapped in a weird moment where I desperately wanted to watch his face, to see his reaction the first time he saw me nearly naked, but I also felt more than a little embarrassed and fought the urge to cover myself. Cory, the boy who'd pulled my pigtails in kindergarten, who'd seen me throw up in the bushes during our families' annual camping trip, was looking at me topless. My best friend was looking at me as though I were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and I had to remind myself that he was my boyfriend, that I should be excited that he wanted to see me naked, not embarrassed.
However, much like all our previous encounters of the physical nature, my thoughts ceased when his hands came to my skin. When the warmth of his skin slid over me, my eyes closed and I was no longer looking at my best friend, I was only feeling. His fingers slid up my skin and I nearly cried out, the tension in my nipple surprising me. They were tight and hard, practically aching, and I needed something to take away the ache.