“I love you, too, Cruise. I’ve never felt like this about anybody. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.” I press my lips against his and drag them all the way to his ear. “Let’s go home. I want to show you exactly how much I want you.”
Cruise glides us over iced roads and lands us in the driveway at record speeds. He whisks me in his arms and carries me over the threshold with his lips adhered to mine. Perhaps he’s afraid I’ll change my mind, and this is his way of keeping me quiet, but the love he declared just moments before resonates through my soul like a bell you hear high and clear long after it’s stopped ringing.
I slide down his leg, playfully tugging him toward his bedroom.
He shakes his head and pulls me into my room instead.
“It’s this bed I haven’t defiled. I want everything we share to be special—pure.” He dots my forehead with a heated kiss. “I want you to remember this.”
My heart thumps in a series of wild convulsions. Cruise wants this to be special, memorable, and pure. I don’t turn on the lights. I simply flick off my heels and pull him to the mattress.
Cruise lies over me as we exchange a kiss that pulls out for eternity—the hot bite of lust fresh on his tongue. The bulge in his jeans aches for me already. I try to memorize the husky moans emanating from his throat, the way his body presses into mine as if it desires nothing more than to melt over me—into me. But deep inside I don’t want to simply remember this, I want to relive it night after night.
My hands spread over his chest in one sweeping move and pull off his coat as I fumble with his buttons. Cruise peels off my jacket. We’re all hands and teeth as we discard our clothes in staccato jerks. Cruise reduces me to panties and a bra, while I manage to strip him clean in less than a minute.
I pull back and examine him as an anemic spray of moonlight dusts over his body—his broad chest, the curves of his well-hewn arms. I run my hands over his skin and appreciate the granite-like texture, nothing but skin over steel. A ragged breath escapes me as I reach down and run my fingers through the soft curls just below his hips. Cruise is hard, like he was this afternoon, and this time there’s no metric distance between us, no audience to depreciate the moment, just the two of us, all night, nowhere to go.
I close my fingers around him, and he lets out a heated breath.
“Kenny.” He buries the whisper directly in my ear. My fingers flex over him. He’s smooth, like velvet covering marble—a ridge traces up the back toward the tip. I run my hand to the base and touch him underneath where the skin is soft and tender, so incredibly full. It takes both my hands just to hold him.
“I love you,” he whispers, dotting my neck with kisses. His hands slide down the back of my underwear and stop high on my hips. My body arches into his, and every ounce of me cries out for him to remove them, to explore every intimate part of me with his touch, his mouth. Cruise runs his fingers along the elastic and gives a gentle tug.
His heart pounds erratic over mine, letting me know without a doubt, he craves this as much as I do.
He pulls off my underwear, unhinges my bra, and I’m quick to toss it to the side. Cruise pulls me in with erotically slow, barely there kisses.
This unbearable ache to have him is mounting to an all-out explosion.
Cruise hikes up on his elbow and washes over me with a peaceable smile. I glance down at my pale arms, my breasts that bloom like magnolias in the night, paper-white and glowing.
His dimples flex as he takes me in. “I’ve never done this before,” he whispers it like a secret buried in midnight, and for a moment, I wonder if all the male prowess was nothing but an act, but I doubt that.
“Done what?” I gently drag my nails across his chest like painting a picture. “Had sex?” I tease. “Are you feeling like a virgin?” I meant for it come out soaked in sarcasm, but it sails from my lips as if I were presenting him with a menu—myself as the virgin. I’m too locked up in the beauty of the moment to leverage any of this with humor. I run my fingers through his hair and quiver for him.
“I’ve had sex plenty of times, but I’ve never made love.” He says it with an earnestness that can only be born from the truth.
Cruise lies back over me with the curve of a naughty smile—and the sheets—the bed—the room ignites in an invisible blaze. He pours over me with a string of molten kisses, dragging his lips to my breast, and my body electrifies with a charge of erotic bliss like I have never known. A staccato series of breaths choke out of me as his tongue lashes over my body. Cruise covers his mouth over my nipple and drinks me down, eliciting a groan from my throat as I tremble beneath him. My insides melt. A soft ache pinches my stomach as I writhe with fervor. Cruise enjoys each one in a wash of affection as if they were enough for the evening all on their own.