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“Listen,” I started. Ciaran’s head jerked at my sudden serious note. “I’m not usually insecure about these things, but it’s different with you.” I drew circles on his chest with my finger. “Any regrets? Do you want to talk about anything?”
His eyes danced. “Regrets about what?” he asked with a smirk. “What do we need to talk about what?”
I gave him a look. “You’re going to make me spell it out, aren’t you?”
“Oh, definitely.”
His impish grin made my heart squeeze. I plopped myself on top of him.
“Matty!” he wheezed. Air whooshed from his lungs as I let my full weight press down on him. I started nuzzling at his neck. His stubble scraped against my own, and I enjoyed the rough sensation, even as he tried to squirm away due to the ticklishness.
“What?” I asked with faux confusion. “You asked me to spell it out for you.”
“Using words.”
“My vocabulary is rather limited when there’s a hot guy in my bed.”
“You think I’m hot?” Ciaran wrapped his legs around me, and our erections slotted together.
A soft moan escaped his lips.
“Uh, yeah.” I waited for him to reciprocate the statement. Ciaran offered me a wicked gleam. He could read me so well. I loved that he kept me on my toes. He thrust against me, though there was no urgency to it, but it didn’t stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head.
“Well?”
“Well what?” he asked innocently as his hands slid down my lower back.
“Brat.”
“You adore me.”
“I’m seriously reconsidering that.” I pouted, and a stupid grin spread on Ciaran’s face.
“Have you seen yourself? Paparazzi follow you around. The world thinks you’re hot, Matty.”
“I don’t care what the world thinks. I care what you think.”
“Fine, I’ll stop tormenting you. You’re hot and sexy and you make me smile like I’m a besotted fool. And, before you ask again, I don’t have a single regret.”
“Thank God,” I exhaled, but realized I couldn’t leave it at that. “I mean, you’re allowed to regret it, of course. I can’t tell you how to feel but I’m relieved you don’t regret it. Last night was amazing and you’re perfect and you took me beautifully.” I buried my face in his neck. I felt hot, like my mouth was running away from me. If I kept at it, I’d start naming our children or something. “And it was good for you? Pleasurable? I didn’t hurt you?”
“You’re cute when you’re insecure.” I bit his shoulder and he yelped. I soothed the area with my tongue. “Yes, it was very pleasurable and no, you didn’t hurt me.” He leaned into the touch and his nails scraped my lower back. Then Ciaran went very, very still. “Oh, my God,” he gasped.
Did he figure it out? My heart sputtered. Would he be mad or upset with me? Would he think I took advantage?
“W-what?”
“You didn’t bring someone home that night, did you?” Ciaran asked. “The night of the bonfire party.” He didn’t sound mad. It sounded more like he was solving a mystery that’d been bothering him. “It was me.”
“Uh…”
“Matty, tell me what happened.”
So I did. “You were pretty drunk, so I carried you up to your room. You seemed to gain a second wind and started kissing me.”
Ciaran groaned. “Oh God, what else did I do?”
“Well, I mean, I started kissing you back and you took off my shirt.”
