“I’m not embarrassed,” she huffs again.
“Then why won’t you look at me?” I brush her hair gently from her forehead.
“I don’t know.” She crosses her arms and glares.
I laugh.
She glares. And continues to glare.
“You’re cute when you pout.”
“I’m not pouting or cute,” she says, then adds with a sigh, “I just… I always thought something was wrong with me.”
I frown. “Wrong with you? In what way?”
She shrugs again, smaller, shyer this time. “I don’t know. I was a late bloomer. I was never interested in guys until after high school and then…” She nibbles at her bottom lip. “I dated before Eli, and I liked messing around with those guys and with him, but I never lost control, you know? I never even felt tempted. I guess I’d started to think I wasn’t the type of person who was super into sex.”
“But now you might be changing your mind?”
“Smug is not a good look on you,” she says, but she smiles when I laugh. “I mean, what clued you in?”
“The moaning my name was nice,” I say, my fingers brushing back and forth across the sliver of bare stomach between her underwear and tank top. “And how wet you were when I touched you.”
She exhales a shaky breath. “You are something else.”
“Something good, I hope?”
She nods, but there’s uncertainty in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I rest my palm lightly on her stomach.
“Nothing,” she says. “I just want to wait a while before we take this much further. Not because I don’t want to, I just…” She pulls in a breath. “I don’t want to slow down, but…I don’t want to speed up, either. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely, just ignore me.” I cast an embarrassed glance down to my boxers, where my cock is still doing its best to burst through the fabric like Superman shedding his street clothes. “I’ve been trying to talk myself down, but…” I trail off, my face going hot as her eyes drift lower.
“Ignore you? Now why would I want to do that?” She smiles as she rolls onto her side, brushing gentle fingers across my cheek that make me shiver. “I’m a virgin, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to return the favor.”
My brows shoot up and my mouth goes dry. “Yeah? I mean you don’t have to, honestly, I—”
“Oh, hush,” she cuts in, grinning as she leans close. It’s a gentle kiss, a connected kiss that makes the moment she rubs me through my boxers that much sweeter.
I sigh her name, my chest clenching as she pushes me back onto the mattress, deepening the kiss as her fingers wrap around my cock and she proves she knows exactly what to do with her hands.
Perfect pressure, perfect speed, she takes me to the edge so fast I should be ashamed of myself, I guess, but it feels too good to care.
“God. Faith, fuck yes.” I come with a groan, electricity rocketing down my spine, bliss dragging at my balls, shuddering as she strokes me through to the end.
“Sorry,” I say, still breathing hard as I kiss her forehead.
“Why?” Her brows furrow.
I shrug, a little shy for some reason. It’s not like I haven’t done this before. Lots and lots of times, in fact. But I’ve never done it with her. Or with any girl who looks at me like Faith, like she sees through me but doesn’t mind the parts I’ve always tried to hide. The uncertain parts. The scared parts. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “The mess. It’s messy.”
She trails a playful, sexy finger through the come on my stomach. “It’s okay. I kind of like the mess.”
“Like my thing for drool?” I ask, making her laugh.
“Exactly like that.” She kisses me again then pulls away and sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “But a shower does sound nice.” She hops to the floor and heads for the bathroom while I drink her in, a little shocked by how sexy I’m finding this very modest pair of pink granny panties.
“We should probably get cleaned up before we hit the road,” she continues, stepping into the bathroom. “We’ve got another nine-hour drive ahead of us.”
Ugh. That sounds fucking awful.
We shouldn’t get back in the truck. We should stay right here.
And just like that, inspiration strikes.
“What if we stay?” I call out.
“What?” She pokes her head back out of the bathroom. “You mean stay the night?”
“I mean stay tonight and tomorrow night,” I say, sitting up. “We have the room for Friday and Saturday. We could drive home Sunday morning and still get a good night’s sleep before work on Monday. You think you can get someone to feed Captain Snugglepants?”
She shoots me a narrow look, clearly waiting to see if I’m going to tease her about her cat’s name again, but I’m not.