Page 32 of A Fighting Chance

His hands land on each side of my face, as if he knows what I’m thinking. He looks me in the eyes. “Everything about you is beautiful,” he says, and then he presses his lips to mine again.

I breathe into his mouth, his tongue pressing against mine. My hands find the button on his pants and undo it. Then I unzip them slowly, feeling him grow beneath my hands. The zipper’s noise and our breathing are the only sounds filling the room. I play with the edge of his boxer briefs, tugging at them. His hands grow feverish, caressing all over my body. I tug at the bottom of his shirt and he lifts his arms. With him being much taller than I am, I’m only able to get the shirt halfway up before he has to help me, and we giggle.

As if sensing the intimacy of the moment, I watch his face twist from the laugh to something serious and almost painful. I take in the sight of his bare chest as I did before. His chest I’ve seen, but now I need to know—Iwantto know—what the rest of him looks like.

I step toward him and slide my hands into the sides of his briefs, gently pulling them down until they fall freely from him to a puddle of fabric on the floor. Then I step back and look at all of him. He’s an impressive specimen. I don’t know how else to say it. Somewhere, there’s a sculptor, chipping away at marble, hoping to capture the lines of Gentry’s body, the ones he makes so effortlessly.

Gentry stands there, letting me look at him for a moment, and then he holds his hand out to me. “Come here,” he commands.

And I do.

He walks me to the side of his bed and begins kissing me again, the backs of my legs pressing against his mattress. As he kisses me, I hear him rip open the condom wrapper and I stop him.

“Wait,” I say. I sit down on the edge of his bed and take the condom from him, setting it next to me. I look up at him, his eyes studying me. Then I take his length into my hand and feel his body stiffen. I inch closer to him and when he senses my intention, he speaks.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says.

“Tell me to stop,” I say, my eyes fixed on his as I blow on his sensitive skin, but he says nothing. So I take him into my mouth and hear him curse under his breath. I reach up, placing my hand on his stomach, grabbing at his skin as I work up and down the length of him. When I feel him growing rigid, I pull away and quickly place the condom over him, rolling it down and into place. I look up at him again.

His eyes are glossy, his lips parted. He’s panting, hungry with desire. I lie back on the bed and wait.

He lowers himself over me, hovering above me. I can feel the tip of him grazing over where he kissed before and I arch toward him. The soft teasing touches make me want him even more, if that’s possible.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He leans down and kisses my mouth hard then pulls away, waiting for my answer.

I reach up and pull his face back to mine, kissing his mouth and jaw, nibbling his earlobe. Then I press my lips to his ear and say, “I want you.”

Acting on my words like they’re a command, he parts and enters me in one fluid motion.

I inhale and moan against the soft hair of his cheek and then I bite his jaw. I hear him groan and he pushes into me again. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my fingertips into the flesh of his well-formed back. His muscles flex beneath my palms. My breath quickens each time he moves against me. He fills me, rocking against me over and over again. His pace and breath quicken in unison. Then he bends down and puts my nipple in his mouth, and I can’t contain my moans anymore. I move my hand over my mouth to stifle them. His tongue licks and swirls and nibbles me. He kisses between my breasts before taking my other nipple into his mouth. I press my eyes closed, my body arching in response.

“Lyla,” he moans against my skin.

I look down at him, meeting his gaze. His expression is fervent, needing, one of desire and something else I can’t name.

“Tell me you want me again,” he says, but I hesitate. “Tell me. Please,” he begs. He moves in and out of me, his body rocking against mine, eager and hard.

“I want you,” I whisper. “I want you.”

His body moves faster then, and I feel my climax building. My breaths become shallow. He’s looking down at me, watching me, silently telling me to let go, to unravel. I keep my eyes locked with his and feel myself do just that. My body arches uncontrollably, the center of me exploding in the most delicious way, confetti raining down inside me.

His pace quickens again, his muscles growing stiff. His eyes shut tight for a moment and then open again.

I want to watch him the way he watched me. I want to see him lose control inside of me.

And he does. His lips press into a tight line as he attempts to stifle his moans, his body shuddering before he collapses on me. He kisses my lips again as our bodies shake, our chests heaving. He doesn’t move from above me. He just holds himself there, still inside me, for a few more moments.

When he pulls away, I gasp, feeling suddenly empty. He lies beside me and props himself on his elbow. He brushes my hair back from my face and kisses my cheek, the hair of his beard tickling my acutely sensitive skin. My mouth softens, my lips turning upward into a slight smile. His leg is still hooked over one of mine and I like it. I close my eyes and bask in the feelings of the moment. Pure. Perfect. Exhilarating. My body starts to relax, my breathing starting to slow. Gentry’s hand sweeps down my arm and he curls his fingers into mine. He pulls my hand up, taking it gently by the wrist, and presses a kiss to the palm of my hand.

I curl my hand into his and pull him around me, turning my body so that my back presses against his front. I wrap his arm over me and tuck it close to me. I feel his breath on the skin of my neck as I begin to drift to sleep, but I feel him start to pull away.

“Where are you going?” I ask, my eyes still closed, already half-asleep.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers. “Let me help you to the pillow.” His arms pull me upward and gently place my head on a soft, warm pillow. This, his arms leave me.

“Please come back,” I say.

“I will. I promise,” he whispers.