ravel as my palm presses against her warm, slightly damp skin. We both freeze and I swear to fucking God I can hear both of our hearts pounding insanely. This isn’t the first time that an awkward, intense moment has happened between us and I’m starting to think it won’t be the last. I know I should pull back, because it’s going to go somewhere beyond the friend zone if I don’t, but her breathing accelerates, her chest rapidly rising and falling, her breasts heaving up and down with her deep, ravenous breaths. My cock goes hard and the idea of touching her is so tempting. Suddenly, like my damn hand has a mind of its own, it’s slipping up her leg. Her skin is as soft as I remember. I knead my fingers into her thigh and she shudders again, her whole body quivering.
As my hand drifts higher up into the towel, my thoughts wandering to how it would feel if my fingers were inside of her. Fucking good, I’m sure. Way too fucking good. I could find out. I know she’d probably let me, but the fact that she would so easily makes me feel guilty. She lets just about everyone touch her, but not because she’s a slut. I don’t believe for one second that she is. There’s something hidden inside her that she’s trying to cover up with sex. I can see it in her eyes sometimes, when she gets really quiet. Sadness. Self-doubt. Self-torture, even.
She’s not like that now, though, seeming more content and subdued than anything. My hand lingers on the top of her thigh, my fingers brushing toward the inner section, whichis even softer. I can feel warmth radiating off her and wetness. God damn it, she’s getting wet and I can feel it, which only makes me want to feel more. As my fingers make a path inward, just about to brush across her wetness, she grips down on the armrest and moans. Actually arches her neck, tips her head back, and fucking moans. My pulse hammers as my fingertips press down into her skin.
Fuck
.
“Ethan… God…” Her hair falls back from her shoulders, her chest bowing upward, and I nearly attack her with my lips, lick a path up her leg, slip my tongue inside her, something I’ve wanted to do since the first day I laid eyes on her.
My fingers dig deeper into her skin, as confliction settles inside me.
Pull my hand back. Keep going.
Somehow I manage to snap my thoughts away from my cock and swiftly pull my hand away. I can’t believe I screwed up again. I’ve always had my rules about fucking around with girls who I had any sort of feelings for.
I’m practically sweating as I get to my feet, digging my keys out of my pocket, hoping she doesn’t notice my cock bulging in my shorts. “I got a few things to do, but I’ll check up on you a little bit later.” I wait for her to say something about what just happened, that I almost stuck my fingers inside her, but all she does is frown up at me.
“You don’t need to check up on me.” She adjusts the bottom of the towel over her thighs, crosses her legs, and covers herself up a little. “I’m perfectly okay by myself.” She smiles at me but it looks fake.
I move for the door. “I’ll check up on you later,” I repeat, then open the door and step out into the sunlight, angry with myself for messing up and extremely angry at the part of me that wanted to mess up and throw my rules right out the window. I set them for a reason. To stop myself and others from getting hurt.
As I head to my truck, my phone beeps from inside my pocket. I retrieve it and check the screen. Rae again. I think about texting her back and telling her that I won’t go to Virginia. But part of me wants to see London again, even if she’s not the same London I fell in love with. I want to say good-bye, yet I don’t. And part of me wants to run back to Lila because for some reason, being around her makes me feel better. I’m so confused at this point as thoughts of both London and Lila clash in my head. Who do I hold on to? London? The girl who I thought I once loved?
As my hand drifts higher up into the towel, my thoughts wandering to how it would feel if my fingers were inside of her. Fucking good, I’m sure. Way too fucking good. I could find out. I know she’d probably let me, but the fact that she would so easily makes me feel guilty. She lets just about everyone touch her, but not because she’s a slut. I don’t believe for one second that she is. There’s something hidden inside her that she’s trying to cover up with sex. I can see it in her eyes sometimes, when she gets really quiet. Sadness. Self-doubt. Self-torture, even.
She’s not like that now, though, seeming more content and subdued than anything. My hand lingers on the top of her thigh, my fingers brushing toward the inner section, whichis even softer. I can feel warmth radiating off her and wetness. God damn it, she’s getting wet and I can feel it, which only makes me want to feel more. As my fingers make a path inward, just about to brush across her wetness, she grips down on the armrest and moans. Actually arches her neck, tips her head back, and fucking moans. My pulse hammers as my fingertips press down into her skin.
Fuck
.
“Ethan… God…” Her hair falls back from her shoulders, her chest bowing upward, and I nearly attack her with my lips, lick a path up her leg, slip my tongue inside her, something I’ve wanted to do since the first day I laid eyes on her.
My fingers dig deeper into her skin, as confliction settles inside me.
Pull my hand back. Keep going.
Somehow I manage to snap my thoughts away from my cock and swiftly pull my hand away. I can’t believe I screwed up again. I’ve always had my rules about fucking around with girls who I had any sort of feelings for.
I’m practically sweating as I get to my feet, digging my keys out of my pocket, hoping she doesn’t notice my cock bulging in my shorts. “I got a few things to do, but I’ll check up on you a little bit later.” I wait for her to say something about what just happened, that I almost stuck my fingers inside her, but all she does is frown up at me.
“You don’t need to check up on me.” She adjusts the bottom of the towel over her thighs, crosses her legs, and covers herself up a little. “I’m perfectly okay by myself.” She smiles at me but it looks fake.
I move for the door. “I’ll check up on you later,” I repeat, then open the door and step out into the sunlight, angry with myself for messing up and extremely angry at the part of me that wanted to mess up and throw my rules right out the window. I set them for a reason. To stop myself and others from getting hurt.
As I head to my truck, my phone beeps from inside my pocket. I retrieve it and check the screen. Rae again. I think about texting her back and telling her that I won’t go to Virginia. But part of me wants to see London again, even if she’s not the same London I fell in love with. I want to say good-bye, yet I don’t. And part of me wants to run back to Lila because for some reason, being around her makes me feel better. I’m so confused at this point as thoughts of both London and Lila clash in my head. Who do I hold on to? London? The girl who I thought I once loved?
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