Butterfly Lane by T. L. Haddix

it. Unable to so much as speak a syllable, John watched as she dropped it on top of her shirt.
    She was perfect, absolutely perfect. Swallowing hard, he held out his hand. She took it, and they closed the distance between them, stopping when only a few small inches separated their bodies.
    Her pale skin was smattered with freckles across her shoulders and chest. She’d bemoaned her inability to tan while they were at the pool, but John had assured her he preferred her skin tone.
    “You’re like peaches and cream.” Trailing his fingers up her arm from where their hands were clasped, he let his other hand rest on her bare shoulder. Despite the summer heat, her skin was cool. She closed her eyes, bringing her hands up to his waistband to tangle into the belt loops.
    Moving slowly, wanting to savor every second, he touched her as though they had all the time in the world. When his hands finally cupped her breasts, lifting them into his palms, Zanny let out a shuddering sigh.
    “John…”
    He teased her nipples then moved his hands below her breasts to rub at the red marks her bra had left. “You can touch me, too, you know,” he whispered.
    She flattened her hands against his abdomen with the same easy reverence he’d used. John let her explore, his muscles rippling as she touched him. They didn’t speak as they learned each other’s bodies. They didn’t need words.
    Bending his knees, John wrapped his arms around her waist, and then straightened up. When Zanny’s arms came around his neck, her legs around his hips, the contact of their bare skin was very nearly overwhelming. He buried his face in her throat, pressing soft kisses there while she stroked his hair.
    He pulled back and glanced around the empty hayloft. His parents hadn’t had livestock for a few years, though his mother was thinking about getting goats again, and there was absolutely nowhere to sit.
    “Hang on to me,” he muttered. With Zanny still in his arms, he eased down to his knees and from there, to sit cross-legged. Grabbing their shirts, he put them under her legs where they touched the wood floor. “Good?”
    She nodded.
    The position brought their lower bodies into close contact, and John reached down to adjust himself through his khaki shorts. Zanny eased back and watched, her face hot, but her curiosity obvious. She reached out a tentative hand to touch his erection through the fabric, and John’s breath hissed between his teeth.
    “Will you show me?” Her words were so quiet that John thought he’d misunderstood her at first.
    “Show you…”
    She nodded. “You know.”
    His hand tightened on her hip at the very idea. John had to clear his throat. “Um.”
    “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
    “It isn’t that I don’t want to. It’s that I don’t want to embarrass myself by uh, well…I don’t know if I can hold back my…I might get too excited.”
    “Would that be bad? I mean, I wouldn’t mind. If you did get too excited.”
    Her cheeks were bright-red flags of color, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze, but the way she kept touching his chest and shoulders told John she was serious.
    Sending out a silent, fervent prayer for strength, he leaned back and undid his shorts. He was so aroused that getting the zipper down was a bit of a struggle, but he managed. Without the heavy press of the fabric containing him, his erection made a tent in his boxers.
    Even though he wasn’t a virgin, the kind of intimacy he and Zanny were sharing was something new. His previous encounters had been, for the most part, brief and had in no way prepared him for what was happening.
    Everything seemed so still around them as he opened his fly and brought himself out. Time slowed down and sped up at once. Zanny sucked in a breath, and he lifted his face to watch her.
    Her hands were clasped underneath her chin, and she was nibbling on her thumb. John barely stopped himself from whimpering and offering her something else to occupy