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"What do we need to talk about?" he asks again, his voice low and raspy.
I turn around to face him, see the desire shining in his dark eyes. "Matt can't know about this."
He nods in agreement. "What if this isn't a one time thing?"
I hadn't thought about that. What if this leads to more? Do I want it to? I'm not really sure. He's in Boulder two hours away from me. I don't even know when I'll see him again. Maybe my birthday brunch?
"I don't know," I shrug against his chest. "I hadn't gotten that far."
He runs a hand through my hair. "Let's just cross that bridge when we get to it."
I decide I don't want to talk anymore and take a step back, grab the hem of my shirt and begin sliding it up my stomach. Kyle reaches out a hand, stops me.
"I get to take that off," he lowly informs me.
I drop the material and move closer to him.
His hands grip my top, slides it quickly over my head. He discards it somewhere behind him before his eyes settle on my hot pink sports bra. His fingers slip beneath the soft fabric, teasing the swell of my breasts. He begins to tug at it, but I grab his hand.
"No, it's my turn," I grin up at him.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise, but his hand slackens in my grasp. I let go, let his arm fall to his side as I eye his sweatpants, excited.
I lick my lips as I reach for him, slide my fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants. His stomach muscles twitch as my fingers lightly graze his soft, warm skin.
God, he's so sexy.
My fingers hook around his pants and tug them down to his ankles. He kicks out of them as I reach for his boxers, but he grabs both of my wrists in his hands, quietly tsks me. "My turn."
I let out a petulant huff as he fingers the button on my jeans. He quickly unbuttons and unzips my pants, slowly pulls the dark wash material down my legs. When they reach the floor, I use Kyle's shoulder to steady myself as I step out of them.
He looks down at my thong before running his hands over the tops of my thighs to my backside. The moment his warm hands grasp my bare cheeks, he lets out a quiet moan. "Fuck, Jenny, I've never been so fucking hard in my life."
A nervous giggle escapes as I reach for him. I run my fingers over the erection straining against his boxers. He surprises me by cupping my hand with his and forcing me to apply more pressure.
"So. Fucking. Hard," he grunts in my ear.
I think that's supposed to be a good thing.
A wave of nervousness washes over me, settles in the pit of my stomach. I've never seen a, you know, up close before. I've barely even kissed someone. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I wonder why I chose the second most experienced person I know (Fallon’s obviously the first) to do this with.
"Kyle, I'm nervous," I breathlessly confess.
He releases my hand, brings both of his up to my face. "We don't have to do this."
"I want to," I whisper. "I just hate that I don't know what I'm doing."
"It's okay." Kyle rests his forehead against mine. "I didn't know what I was doing the first time either."
"How old were you?" I ask. Maybe talking will calm my nerves.
"I was 18," he reveals. "It was that girl Hannah I dated in high school."
I had forgotten about Hannah. They dated for a while, too. Seven or eight months until they broke up after graduation.
"It's hard to believe you once had a long-term relationship," I admit with a laugh before running a hand absentmindedly up his arm. "Everyone always said you were such a player in high school."
Kyle motions towards his bed. He pulls back the down comforter, then the grey sheet, helps me climb in. He plops down beside me, wraps his arms around me, and holds me tight against his warm chest. My fingers strum along his toned stomach.
