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He shifts slightly to the side, putting more of his weight against the back of the couch. One of his hands skims under my sweatshirt again. Eagerly, I arch my back, encouraging his touch, silently begging him to explore wherever he wants. His rough hand brushes against the underside of my breast and I gasp.
He pulls back, wide-eyed, as if he’s shocked to encounter skin instead of fabric.
“What’s wrong?” I frown. My breasts certainly aren’t small. I got teased mercilessly in sixth grade for already needing a C-cup when Cindy Adams stole my bra out of my gym locker and passed it around. Plenty of guys only spoke to my chest. And more than one date has tried to grope me the second they got the chance. Griff shouldn’t be disappointed.
“Absolutely nothing.” Gently, almost reverently, he touches me again. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. His knuckles graze the side of my breast, lightly stroking. My nipples tighten, anticipating his touch. When he finally grazes his thumb over one peak, my body jumps and I whine into his mouth.
He answers with a low sound of approval and runs his nose along my jaw, raising the tension in my body another degree. “I thought about you all night,” he murmurs as he trails his lips down my neck, stopping and nipping, then teasing his tongue against my skin.
“Me too,” I whisper.
My whole body shivers and tingles when he gently teases his teeth against my earlobe. Under my sweatshirt, he strokes my breast again, lightly sweeping his thumb over the tip.
“I want you so much.” He drops his head, staring down both of our bodies to where he’s pressed against me. “Obviously.”
I want him too but fear rushes in, colliding with my desire, and seals my mouth shut.
I’m not afraid of Griff. But of what comes next. Of what he expects. How I’ll compare. Taking that next big step.
Making out in his car was different. We were on the street. In front of my house. It seemed unlikely we’d strip naked and go further.
Here in my living room, alone, we could do so much more. Am I ready for that?
If I’m not, will he go find someone who is?
Will it hurt?
Change everything?
“Molly?” He pulls back and frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Are you sure?” He leans in and nips my earlobe again.
“I, uh...” My mind blanks.
What should I say? What does he want me to say?
Griff
I’m not so far out of my mind that I can’t feel Molly’s body freeze. I lean in and kiss her neck again, inhaling her. God damn, she smells so fucking good. And she’s soft. Fuck, everywhere my rough fingers roam, she’s so soft.
“What do you want?” I kiss her again. “Tell me.”
“Well…” Her voice cracks and she whispers the rest. “You know…We could maybe…if you want…whatever you want…”
Ah, fuck. That’s not desire making her trip over her words. It’s apprehension or confusion. Nope. I don’t ever want her to have doubts. Not about us or anything that we do together.
I want everything from her. But I’m sure as fuck not an asshole who’s going to talk her into something she’s not full throttle into no matter how painfully hard my dick is.
Slowly, I ease my hand out from underneath her shirt and stare down at her, studying her face. “If you can’t say the words, you’re not ready.”
She blinks up at me. “No, maybe…” She closes her eyes, suddenly shy again. Is this the same girl who boldly threw her leg over mine and practically ripped my shirt off five minutes ago?
“A maybe isn’t a yes.” A mixture of amusement and disappointment wars inside me.
I take a breath. Close my eyes for a second. It’s okay. This is fine. I’d rather stop now than keep going and have her be sorry later.
