Taking His Virgin(12)

By: Lila Younger


“Over what?”

He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. He’s got his sleeves rolled up for work, and it stirs something inside of me. Of course he was up here working too. We’re all alone up here, I realize. I’m on a bed. My mind jumps into the gutter before I can stop it. Quickly I get off and fiddle with the plastic sheeting, hoping he didn’t pick up on what I’m thinking. I can feel his gaze lingering on me.

“She doesn’t want me here,” I say at last. “She thinks I should go to college.”

I hear him walk a few steps into the room. The next thing I know his strong hands are taking the plastic, pulling it over the large bed with ease.

“And I take it you don’t want to go.”

“No, not at all. I like working here at the B and B. There’s something so wonderful about this place,” I say, gesturing to the room around us. “Even if it is run down.”

“It won’t be once I’m finished. It’ll be restored back to its glory. I’m actually excited. I don’t often get to work with a house like this in my line of work. We update houses of course, but feels more meaningful.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” I say softly. “All this history, all the stories in these walls. I’m glad we’re not going to destroy it.”

He heads toward the old wingback chairs by the windows, and I hurry to help get the other one. We place them side by side in the middle. I look up at him, and words leave me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to James. I must not have, because I would remember those eyes if I did. Like warm chocolate, with mesmerizing amber flecks. I could just look at them forever. He leans in for just a second, and the smell of him fills my lungs, woodsy and dark, with an undertone of clean sweat from the hard work he’s been doing all morning. I feel a pull in my chest towards him.

Silence falls between us, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he leans even closer. His hand cups my face. It’s rough and calloused, I notice for some reason. From a hardworking man. One who doesn’t just give orders, but actually does the work too. I wish I could understand what he’s thinking, but his eyes have darkened somehow. His thumb strokes my cheek, a touch more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t think straight, every part of me zeroed in the point where we’re touching. My breath hitches, my nipples hardening in response to his presence. My knees are quivering, and I clutch onto the back of the chair to keep myself upright.

“Ava,” he says, his voice husky and low.

My mind flashes back to the way he looked at me in the car, his eyes taking in my body in that stupid dress Macy made me wear. Did he like the way my breasts spilled out? Did he enjoy looking at my legs? I thought he didn’t because he was so angry, but now, with the way he’s looking at me, I can’t be so sure. Could he... could he want me too, as much as I want him? My whole face is warming up at the idea.

His hand tightens on me, and my whole body coils up, anticipating what’s to happen. My lips part, and I see the way his pupils dilate open. I don’t know what’s going on, only that I want it go continue on. I want to touch him too, I want to pull him to me, but I’m too afraid. I don’t know what to do with a boy, much less a man.

As if sensing how nervous I am, James gives me a tiny smile, before leaning in and kissing me. I stiffen up, afraid to even breathe, but the kiss is so gentle, so tender, that I start melting in his grip. He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to kiss me again, firmer this time, and it’s like my body wakes up at last. My hand goes to his shoulder, steadying myself against him. Soft cotton over hard muscle. James definitely worked out.

When he kisses me again, I respond this time, pushing back gently, getting lost in the feel of our lips against each other, the roughness of his stubble, the warmth of his tongue as it sweeps past my lips and tangles with mine. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to his body in a possessive way that made me ache between my legs. Sensations are lighting up all over me as my brain tries to process the fact that we’re pressed together, that this is happening at all. James is my first kiss, but even with nothing to compare to, I know that this is amazing. That this is worth all the waiting.

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