It’d been awkwardly long. What if he thought she was calling the cops or something insane?
Gotta go. She mashed her fingers into the phone until it was in silent mode and then threw it in the corner. She grabbed her glass, took a huge swig, and poured some more.
What was the plan? What was she going to do?
She stood for a moment or two, feeling short on time, and came up with nothing. Perhaps she could just sit down beside him again, and maybe he’d try again and she could just lean toward him this time. And if he didn’t, she could plan her next move out there, not while she was in here doing who knew what.
It was a terrible plan, but it was all she had.
She strode out, trying to walk in some kind of sexy fashion, although she had no idea if she was pulling that off, and then plopped back beside him on her coach.
His arm felt missing behind her neck. It had felt so natural to have it there, and it would feel so right for him to simply put it back there now. But he didn’t.
The movie had marched on, over their drama. She could ask him which parts she’d missed if she wanted to make conversation, but… No. She’d seen it too many times, anyway. She sat in silence, barely aware elves and dwarves and hobbits struggling on-screen, much more acutely aware of his body beside hers.
Could she do it? Could she just move her hand over a few inches and rest it on his leg? Like it was no big deal?
She tried. Her hand twitched. Fuck. She tried again. And failed. What if Anka’s interpretation was wrong? What if he had realized something but had nowhere to go? What if her breath was terrible? What if he didn’t want her? Climbing in his lap might get super awkward then.
This was never going to work. She couldn’t even get her hand to move. She was going to die an old maid. She wanted to groan but stopped herself. What if… what if she could try to explain what had just happened? Maybe in some sort of roundabout, casual terms.
“Hey, Nick?” She took another long gulp of wine. God, what if he got annoyed with her talking over the movie? But it was too late to turn back now. “You ever get… nervous?”
“Of course. All the time.” He looked down at her, frowning and completely uninterested in the movie too.
“What do you do when you get nervous?”
“Uh, I have a tendency to get jumpy. Fight or flight and all that.”
“Is that what just happened,” she muttered, not really a question. He raised an eyebrow, but she waved off the comment and trained her eyes on the TV. “I tend to… freeze up. Especially if it’s about something I really care a lot about.”
He stilled. “Deer-in-the-headlights style?”
She snorted. “Why does everybody keep using that phrase today? It’s kind of… morbid. Isn’t the deer about to get hit by a car?”
“Things you really care a lot about, huh?” He sat forward, as if he was trying to get her to look at him.
She winced. “Yeah.” Had she revealed more with that statement than she’d intended? She hid her embarrassment behind another hasty gulp from the wine. Or three. What would he think if he knew she’d had a crush on him for over three years? Maybe longer. She tried not to think about it.
To her surprise, he set the tumbler down on the coffee table and slid to his knees on the carpet in front of her, turning so he could face her head-on. One hand was dangerously close to touching her knee, the other on the coffee table. She could almost see him place his hands on her knees, slide up her thighs—
Concentrate, girl. He’s going to say something.
“Look, I’m sorry I just tried to bail on you there. This has been a really awesome night. I’m glad I’m not wrecked in a ditch somewhere. I’d much rather be here with you.” He paused but seemed to have more to say, so she waited. “And it’s very generous of you to offer to have me back here.”
“Not a big deal,” she muttered.
“But look, I… I will admit I was nervous. Am nervous. Whatever. And I am maybe a bit confused. I don’t want to make anything awkward between us. I have the utmost respect for you.” He stopped for a moment. What was he thinking? What did any of that mean? Why was he even saying any of this? She could see the words running through his thoughts. “And… I also really, really want to kiss you right now. But only if you—”
She moved her right thigh out an inch, so that her leg touched his hand.
He stilled, eying her knee. “–want me to.”
With her other foot, she pushed back the coffee table, risking sloshed wine everywhere but leaving more room in front of her. She paused, foot still propped high on the coffee table, legs parted before him.
There, was that any clearer? She had no idea how it looked to him, but to her it felt daring, brazen. Insanely bold. Terribly vulnerable.
He swallowed. She licked her lips, managing the slightest nod. His eyes darted down.
Without warning, his mouth covered hers, lips pressed gently for a moment, then harder, his beard scraping her skin. Oh, God, yes. His lips parted slightly, hot and wet. She followed his lead. And then his tongue was in her mouth, sweeping along her lip, plunging into her with greater and greater urgency. She clung to him, gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. His hand slid up her back, under her hair, and cradled her neck as he delved deeper into her mouth. So good, so great. She’d have gasped if she could have, but she was hardly even breathing at this point. His other hand ran up her thigh, gliding around her lower back, sweeping her hips forward and urging her closer to him. She scooted up to the edge, eager to feel his body against hers in more places than one.
Some incredulous part of her was shaking off the deep freeze and doing a happy dance. She had done it. Bring on the confetti, girls. Nick Markov was in her apartment.
And he was kissing her.
If this was possible, who knew what else the night could hold?
Nick might have misjudged her spot on the futon. And possibly her enthusiasm. As he tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, she shifted forward eagerly. No longer frozen, apparently. The whole odd movement sent him off-balance and her practically off the couch on top of him.
He recovered before that could happen, but this was an awkward spot. He could only kiss her so long at this angle on his knees. He needed to either move beside her on the couch, move somewhere else entirely—dare he dream the bedroom?—or take advantage of this position and head south.
He had zero idea if she was interested in either of the latter two ideas, so he should start with the couch. A gentleman would.
Still, he delayed. Here her legs were spread around him, thighs pressing against his hips, and the whole lengths of their bodies molded together. Her soft curves pressed against his chest, and he didn’t want to give up any of it. He ached to be as close to her as he possibly could, and he plunged his tongue further into her mouth, hungry, starving, desperate even. She hadn’t moved much, but she seemed to be enjoying herself, clinging to him tightly and her tongue moving against his in a tentative caress.
Maybe… maybe he should try a different tack. He slid his hand from her hip down, slowly, toward her rear, giving her plenty of time to smack it away. She only kissed him harder. He gave her a tentative squeeze, urging her closer to him again.
A small squeak escaped from her, and he opened one eye, but she still seemed wholly engrossed in the kiss.
Time for the real test. Sliding up again, he found the edge of the white dress shirt and slid his fingers underneath, grazing the soft skin of her lower back.
She inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. No, in fact, her back arched beneath him. Her own hands seemed to remember themselves. They drifted down his chest toward his waist. His heart raced. Was this actually happening?
He was in Penny Collins’s apartment, and she was kissing him. And reaching for the button on his jeans. This had to be a dream.
But in his dreams, her skin never felt quite this soft. He ran his hands up and down her back, trying to memorize the soft slide of her skin against this finge
rs, the temptation of her bra strap. She reached his belt and unbuckled it, then moved to the button on his jeans, but fumbled with it for a while. He would have smiled if he weren’t kissing her, her awkwardness both sweet and electrifying. She clearly did not make a habit of inviting men back here, as many things had evinced throughout the night.
But she’d invited him.
Well, if she was going for the gold, so would he. He swept his hand up her rib cage and cupped her breast, savoring the slight roughness of lace under his hand. Of course she’d wear lace. Suddenly, he longed to see her. All of her. This had to be a dream. There was no way she would let him. This encounter was way over his level. She deserved way better than him.
But his hands had a mind of their own and reached for the sweet, small buttons on her shirt. Her own hands abandoned his pants and moved to help him, unbuttoning quickly, almost frantically. He moved to help her pull back the shirt, but she had already whipped it off, and his hands met only the smooth, naked skin of her shoulders.
Whoa, she was eager. Way more than he’d realized. Had she really had this in mind all along? When she’d suggested him staying over? Or was this just… impulsive?
It didn’t matter. She was working on the buttons to his shirt now with more success. He needed to see her, sneak a peek of what they’d revealed. He broke away and moved his kiss down her jaw, then down her neck, stealing a long look at the pale pink of her bra and the curve of her breasts beneath it.
Pink and perfect. Of course.
She was making quick work of his shirt too, and suddenly her hands slid around his stomach and up his back, urging him closer to his surprise, and inadvertently driving the hard bulge in his pants into her hips. She let out a little gasp, and he smiled but tried to hide it in her hair, which smelled like a cupcake. Or maybe the whole apartment did.
There was a sweet, delicate innocence to her, in spite of her urgency. Hmm. He was likely more experienced than her. Maybe a lot more. Maybe he was not out-leveled after all.
Could it even be her first time? Well, he was just the man for the job. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he throbbed with need for her at the thought. Buttons on jeans weren’t that hard to undo, were they?
Was this moving all way too fast?
He couldn’t bring himself to care. Or stop. All the stars—and snow—had aligned today to bring them together here. He wasn’t going to second-guess fate.
He shook his own shirt off now, tossing it aside, and her hands skimmed over his shoulders hungrily, down his arms, up his sides, and then again for another round. Memorizing him as well? The excitement, the reverence in it surprised him, almost as if she were savoring every moment of touching him. Pretty much nothing like having sex with Ashley. Whom he was definitely not going to think about again for the rest of the night.
He almost laughed as her hands slid down his back and slowed, hesitating. He hid his amusement in the crook of her neck as she sprinkled kisses across his shoulder, and sure enough, her hands drifted down now and grabbed his ass, ramming him against her again. Another breathless gasp. Finally for the first time tonight, one thing was clear. She definitely wanted this.
He kissed a gentle trail up to her earlobe, took it in his mouth, and sucked just for a second, earning a soft squeak. He straightened and whispered in her ear, “Do you want to go somewhere more comfortable, or are we doing this right here?”
She drew back sharply, eyes wide. Realizing just how far they’d been going? Having regrets? Please don’t have regrets. But she seemed to relax when she caught sight of his smile. Nervous, he reminded himself. She’s just nervous.
He shrugged, his hands still splayed across her lower back. “Unless you want to go back to watching the movie.”
She looked at him like he was insane. Still not successfully forming words, she stood up. He stared up at her glorious form before taking her outstretched hand and rising.
His heart raced faster. He followed her to a dark room he presumed was her bedroom, snatching his bag on the way. As his eyes adjusted, yes, he could see a large bed to the left covered with pillows, a small end table and lamp, and a dresser to the right. And lots more unpacked boxes. The place was neat, if somewhat unlived in.
“Oh—wait, one second.” She dropped his hand and dashed back into the living room.
He took the chance to pull the pack of condoms out of his bag—he was ever the optimist—and to throw the bag on the floor by the end table. He set the condoms cautiously by the lamp. Hopefully that wasn’t too forward at this point. Penny did not seem like she’d have her own.
She came back with the pillow from the futon in one hand and two glasses of wine cradled skillfully in the other. She set the wine down next to the condoms, her eyes as round as the moon at the sight of them. She crawled onto the bed, sweeping all the fluffy pillows off the other side—a cloud and a rainbow went flying.
The view of her behind nearly drove him mad with desire. He ached to reach out and take her right there, but of course, it was too soon. Not for the first time. Especially not if it was her very first time.
No, not ever. Penny was too sweet, too good to want it rough. He pushed that darkness back down, but a knot of apprehension tightened in his stomach anyway. He’d bury that darkness forever if he could—what kind of person gets off on controlling the person they’re supposed to love? But hating his darker urges had never made them go away.
He forgot all that, though, when she flopped over and looked at him, eyes hungrier now, hooded and smoky. Silver moonlight streaming in the window lit the edges of her shoulders and haloed her pale hair—gorgeous rim lighting that would make an amazing portrait, not that he was taking one or sharing this view with anyone else. Ever. He could just make out the curves of her breasts, the pale pink of her bra. Her long legs stretched out before him. He just looked at her for a moment, drinking her in.
She still had her socks on. Sky blue with smiling ice creams cones and cookies. Kawaii everywhere. Fucking adorable. Gently, he lifted her right foot, stroking the sole as he slowly took off one sock, then switching to the other foot. Her leg trembled beneath his fingers.
Setting her foot back on the bed, he ran his hands up her calves, nudging her legs apart. Making room for him. She shook again beneath him as he knelt onto the bed, crawling his way on hands and knees over her, until his face was barely an inch from hers. His thigh nestled against the heat between her legs.
He kissed her softly again before she collapsed off her elbows and back on the bedspread, her breaths warm and quick. Her hands reached for his forearms now, ran up him, eyes searching. Memorizing, he thought. Just like he was. Trying to capture this moment and never forget it.
“Pen, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Very.”
She swallowed and brushed some hair back off her face. He waited a moment longer, hoping to stave off any regrets that might be lurking.
“Very sure,” she said as he continued his vigil. She opened her mouth again, hesitated, but then seemed to muster her courage. “I mean,… I guess you should know… I’m not very experienced.”
He smiled, drifting closer to her, letting their chests brush as he kissed her shoulder, shifting down to her cleavage to ease the tension in them both. “I gathered that,” he whispered against the pale lace.
“You did?” She didn’t sound too happy about that.
“That’s why I asked.” He kissed the edge of the bra tenderly, wondering if this was the wrong time to yank it down and take her nipple in his mouth. Probably.
“What if I told you I’m like… really, really not very experienced?”
“Is this your first time, Pen?” He ran his tongue under the edge of her bra, kneading her gently with his fingers.
She shivered, then nodded and bit her lip in that way that made him want to bury himself inside her and never look back. “Yeah.”
He forced his restraint, his mind back to her and what she was feeling.
“Are you cold? What is it? Should we get under the covers?”
“No, I just—I mean, yeah, let’s get under the covers. But I just like it when you call me that.”
He smiled, then reached over and pulled the covers down. She moved toward them, but he caught her by the waistband. “Wait. Let’s take care of these first.” Relenting and smiling herself now, she lay back as he unbuttoned her trousers and pulled them and her panties down in one smooth motion. Another soft gasp. He hoped it were more of the delighted than terrified variety.
Then he gazed at her lovely form on the bed while he unbuttoned his own pants and dropped them, kicking his boxers off. As they fell, she propped herself up on her elbows again. Trying to get a better look? He smirked, but then tried to hide it. There wasn’t much spectacular about his lanky, geeky frame to get a look at.
He pulled the covers down further and climbed in, and she slipped in beside him. His mouth met hers as his fingers went for the one remaining obstacle—the bra clasp. His erection was hard as hell by now and pressed insistently and rather rudely into her leg. Hopefully she didn’t mind.
The bra came free, and she wriggled around until it was extricated. He tossed it aside, sweeping her against him, reveling in the smooth warmth of her skin against his.
“Still sure, Pen?” he whispered against her mouth.
“Hell yes,” she whispered back.
He grinned. “Okay, well, if you’re sure, you just keep telling me when you like it, and when you don’t, and we’ll be fine.”
“That sounds easier said than done.”
“Practice makes perfect, right?”
“What?”
“Well, we’ll just have to practice. A lot.”
She burst out laughing. Before she could even stop, he scooted rapidly under the covers, calling, “First lesson!”
“What?”
She seemed legitimately unsure of what he was going to do, especially given the gasp as his nose nuzzled into the hair between her legs. He ran his fingers over her soft center and restrained himself from thrusting a finger straight into her when he discovered her wet center. She might be inexperienced, but her body certainly knew what it was doing.
Bad Game: A Geeky New Adult Romance (Leveling Up In Love Book 2) Page 6
