Page 20 of The Perfect Wrong
I’d shout his name—I’d scream it—but I’m too far gone for more than a breathless smile.
When I’m coming off the high, I push my lips against his shoulder, stifling the syrupy noises exploding up my throat.
“Babe? You okay?” His lovely stubble scratches my skin.
Slowly, I open my eyes.
It’s like being dragged back to reality from a dream.
My knees collapse and now he’s just holding me up, angling me against the wall, sheltering me through the best storm of my life.
“Yeah. I’m...holy shit. I’ve never had it so good,” I whisper.
I’ve never had it at all, but I’m afraid to mention that technicality.
What would this wolf of a man think if he knows I’m a virgin?
Two possibilities.
Either he’ll cut and run or else he’ll rip me away from the wall, push me into the sand, and mark me from the inside out for life.
It’s equal parts exhilarating and scary as hell.
The butterflies swarming my stomach take over, teasing my nerves, sapping the confidence I had earlier.
Maybe we should take it slow. Ease into this. Assuming he’s local...
We could work into it, right?
“My turn,” he growls darkly. “You kiss like a little maniac, Delia. I fucking love it. Now, get on your knees and show me what that mouth does. Show me everything, woman.”
Even if we don’t go all the way, I’m happy to try.
I swallow and nod.
His hands move to his hips and he backs up a step, tearing at his belt.
Here come those nerves again.
His size worries me more than my inexperience.
That monster ridge in his jeans gets closer, stronger,realerwith every movement.
I’ve messed around with toys, but his outline alone looks like he’d put them all to shame.
My pulse doubles.
My eyes are glued to his fingers, hovering over his zipper.
I wait breathlessly, drenching my ruined panties. My head swirls with ginormous images of what he’s about to reveal.
Then there’s a sound like someone shredding the night and a rumbling vibration in my pocket.
I jump, realizing too late it’s just my phone.
Ugh.
Worst timing ever.