Trust in Me(69)

            “What?”

            My pulse pounded in several parts of my body. “You’ve never been kissed before, right?”

            “No,” she whispered.

            “Just so we’re clear. This isn’t a kiss.”

            Before she could speak, I swept my lips over hers. It was barely a kiss, more like a brief meet and greet, but the shock that traveled through my system blew the air out of my lungs.

            “You kissed me.” Avery’s fingers clenched my arms.

            “That wasn’t a kiss.” She shuddered as my lips brushed hers. “Remember? If we’ve kissed, then that means you going home with me could potentially mean something more serious.”

            “Oh,” she sighed. “Okay.”

            “This is also not a kiss.”

            I kissed her for real this time, tracing the pattern of her lips, learning the feel of them. They were as soft as I believed they’d be, absolutely perfect against mine. When she leaned into me, making a tiny breathy sound, lust fueled by something far deeper slammed into me.

            This was her first—I was her first kiss. No one could take that away from us. And no matter what happened a week from now or a month, we would always have this. A primal male pride wrapped itself around me.

            Closer—I needed her closer, to feel her body under mine. I shifted her onto her back, keeping only my mouth on hers, and her lips moved against mine. She was kissing me back, tiny little ones that were clumsy and yet entirely sexy in their artlessness.

            A sound came from deep within me and my body demanded that I sink into her, but I held myself above her, coaxing her lips open. She shuddered under me, and I shook with a need I’d never quite felt before. Her mouth opened, and I slipped inside, flicking my tongue over hers, deepening the kiss. Her back arched and when her breasts grazed my chest I had to throw the brakes on.

            Lifting my head was the hardest thing I’d ever done. It seemed to go against nature, made even more difficult when a whimper escaped her as I nipped at her lower lip.

            She was breathing heavily, like me, eyes unfocused. “Still not a kiss?”

            Sitting back, I pulled her up. My gaze roamed over her face, searching for any sign that she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss. What I found was the exact opposite. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fevered, and her chest rose and fell rapidly.

            I reached between us, running my thumb over her lower lip as I leaned in. “No, that wasn’t a kiss.” I brushed my lips over hers, swallowing her sweet sigh. “That was a good night.”





Sixteen

            “A girl?”

            I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. “Yes, Mom, a girl.”

            There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “A lady?”

            “Yes.”

            “A real, live female?” she asked.

            “Opposed to a fake, dead female?”

            Mom shushed me. “You’re actually bringing a girl with you home?”

            I started to frown. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

            “You never bring a girl home, Cameron. You—hold on. Honey!” A rustling sound interrupted her and then, “Honey, Cameron is bringing a real, live girl home for Thanksgiving! Can you believe it? No. I can’t—what . . . ?”

            “Oh my God,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.