Oh, dear God. Ying and Yang really had it right when it came to intimate touch. Gentle, hard. Soft, rough.
Since I knew I was nearing the point of being struck temporarily mute myself, I moved my hands down until they reached the top of his sweats. I was close enough to feel him ready to go, but one layer of fabric separated us.
Not for long.
He didn’t say anything or try to stop me when I slid his shorts over his backside and let them drop to the ground.
Now Jesse’s ass . . . that was f**king beautiful. I didn’t have to see it sans clothes to know that; I could tell from touch alone.
I pressed closer until I felt him hard against me. Breathing was becoming such a chore I needed to get horizontal before I passed out.
Jesse’s chest rose hard and fast against mine. “Just because I told you I loved you, Rowen, doesn’t mean I expect sex two minutes after.” He lifted his hand to my face and smoothed his thumb down my cheek. “I’m not one of those guys who expect sex in exchange for love.”
I kissed his palm. “I know that. Believe me, I know that. Even if you were one of those guys who expected sex in exchange for love, I’ve known plenty of others who expect it for much less.” The skin between his eyebrows came together, but his eyes stayed on mine. “I’m not going to have sex with you because I feel like I have to. I’m going to have sex with you because I want to.” I ran a finger down the line between his eyebrows, trying to erase it. “I appreciate you checking, but if you’re done playing the part of Mr. Chivalry, think you can hang up your moral high ground ways and rock my world?”
“I had to check,” he replied before kissing my forehead. “I will most certainly try to . . . rock your world . . . but what I might lack in experience and skill, I can make up for with persistence and lots of practice.” His smile curved up higher on one side. “Lots of practice.”
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of skill, but I’m totally committed to the lots and lots of practice thing. Sounds good.” I winked at him, grabbed his hand, and led him to the mattress.
I loved how I was about to make love to the guy of my dreams on a mattress on the floor of a drafty old farmhouse attic. It wasn’t exactly the stuff fairy tales were made of, but it was my tale. And I’d never envy that Cinderella chick again.
“Before we get too comfortable,” I said, stopping at the edge of the mattress, “you better have your condoms handy. I won’t be able to take much more foreplay. Really. I’m close to going cross-eyed if we keep it up for much longer.”
Jesse’s face went a little deer-in-the-headlights. I’d known plenty of guys who weren’t big fans of condoms because they were Grade A Dickheads, but Jesse wasn’t close to one of those guys. I knew that wasn’t why he’d gone a little blank when I mentioned bagging his boy.
And then I realized another reason why his face might have dropped.
“Please tell me you’ve got a condom.” Really, fate wouldn’t be that mean, right?
He rubbed the back of his neck. Oh, hell no.
I’d been on the pill since I turned thirteen. Mom was convinced that if I wasn’t already, I would be getting it on soon. It was good to know that, at least once in my life, I’d lived up to her expectations. However, I adhered to the two forms of contraception rule for a lot of reasons. Even though Jesse was the closest by a landslide to the only exception, I couldn’t. For his sake, for my sake, for the potential glimmer in our eyes’ sake.
“Jesse?” I said slowly.
He lifted his index finger. He twisted around and inspected his room as if it was a black hole. “I’ve got a box in here . . . somewhere.”
I exhaled my relief.
He bee lined for his dresser, so I made myself comfortable on his mattress and enjoyed the view. My God. That ass . . .
He tore through the contents of the top drawer. Socks and undershirts parachuted to the floor. Apparently finding nothing, he moved on to the next drawer. Same thing, except for the jeans being tossed out of the drawer. He was frantically searching and I only let myself grin at his panic because he couldn’t see it.
One more drawer to go.
Jesse was the first guy I’d known who didn’t know exactly where his condoms were. Guys lived by them and died without them. Or at least their penises did. For Jesse to have no clue where his were led me to believe he was either absurdly absent-minded or hadn’t used them in a while.
Since he and Josie had broken up six months ago and he had moved rooms for me, I supposed Jesse could have forgotten where he kept his stash.
Rummaging through the third and final drawer, Jesse gave a victory cheer as he threw his hand up in the air. A box of condoms was clutched in his fist.
I sighed again in relief.
He headed back toward the mattress, a victorious smile on his face. I had a full-on, frontal view, so my gaze didn’t linger on his face.
“Exactly where I forgot I left them.” He shook the box and opened it.
Like, opened it for the first time.
Something I’d never once considered entered my mind. “Jesse?” I said, sitting up. I felt a little deer-in-the-headlights.
“Yeah?” he replied as he fumbled with the box.
“You’re not a”—I fumbled to get the word out—“ . . . virgin . . . are you?” Please, please, please say he wasn’t.
He stopped fumbling with the box. My stomach dropped.
“Define virgin,” he said slowly.