Page 65 of Good Directions

“First things first, then,” he says, hand cupping the nape of my neck.

His thick fingers weave into my hair, cradling my head, drawing me in closer. My breath hitches, pulse skittering as he leans, pressing his lips to mine. My whole body heats up, standing at attention as his tongue swipes against mine. Fuck, based on this reaction you’d think this was the first time he’d kissed me tonight instead of the hundredth.

Still, there is something different about this kiss. It’s just as sweet, kind, gentle as the others. But it’s also purposeful. Full of something different. A want that he’s been holding back. One that surges through me, all the way to my toes.

“Fuck, Sawyer…you have no idea what you do to me,” Anton mutters.

I suck in a breath, understanding his sentiment exactly. The desire coursing through me right now is more potent than anything I’ve ever felt, and I have no idea how to channel it. Sliding my hand between us, I palm his bulge, hoping that’s the right move. Anton groans, tightening his grip in my hair.

“Right back at you.”

“That’s one way to conquer your fear.” He chuckles.

“I’m not a complete prude,” I whisper, a little laugh sneaking out. I wish I could put all of my feelings into words, expressing to him this weird mix of emotions swirling inside. But right now, all I know is that I can trust him. “But I’ve never enjoyed sex. I want to, but…don’t. Like I said, it’s not about the want, it’s that it’s not…”

Anton nods. “So no one has ever gone down on you? Worshipped you like you deserve?”

I shake my head. Anton’s eyes go wide and I can’t tell if he doesn’t believe me or if it’s something else. Muttering something under his breath, he moves quickly out from under me, sending me toppling over. I don’t have time to readjust before he scoops me up and I’m airborne, in his arms, like a bride being carried by a groom.

“That changes now.”

There’s so much gruffness and power behind Anton’s voice I can’t help but shiver in his arms. The butterflies inside pick up their pace, the fluttery warmth they cause spreading through me.

A split second later we’re across the living room and in his bedroom. The large room is minimally decorated, with only a photo of a peach grove over the king-size bed. It could use some love—maybe even a woman’s touch—but I keep that comment to myself, my focus trained on Anton as he deposits me in the middle of the bed.

Leaning over me, he kisses me the same way he did earlier—with passion and purpose—stealing my breath. I whimper, losing myself into it, letting the moment take over. Letting him take over.

We continue like this, kissing and caressing, getting lost in each other, for a couple of minutes, not in any hurry. Something that is both a blessing and a curse since my body wants more, but my head is thankful that Anton seems to know exactly what speed to move.

Kissing along my jaw, Anton nips at my earlobe. I moan, squirming underneath him, feeling myself start to get wet. Fuck, is he good.

“Sawyer,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m going to worship every inch of your body. Until you’re screaming my name. Until you’ve forgotten your own. I’m going to make you feel better than you ever have in your life.”

Oh, fuck…yes, please…

“So, I’m gonna need you to use your words, okay?” I nod. Which isn’t using my words, but it’s all I have right now. Anton chuckles, continuing. “I’m gonna need you to tell me when you like something, or when you don’t. And if you want me to stop, then that’s all you have to say. Got it?”

“Yeah…”

“Then let’s give this pretty pussy the attention it deserves.”

I shudder at his use of pretty pussy—something about the simple alliteration doing me in. The way Anton’s eyes darken as he licks his lips tells me that he notices too, and I know I’m in trouble. He’s committing that to memory to use it against me later.

And there is a part of me that can’t wait.

In the blink of an eye, he has me out of my tank top and shorts, leaving me in nothing but my panties. The fabric of his T-shirt and shorts feels strange against my bare skin, the juxtaposition trying to steal me from the moment. As if he can sense it, Anton shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, cupping my face in his free hand.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he says, his voice low, reverent.

A flash of heat rushes through me as he drags a hand down my body, all my nerve endings firing up. Snaking along my torso and up my belly, his fingers circle my breast, then my nipples. It’s a slow, torturous tease, like he’s stealing the oxygen from the air one breath at a time, alternating between nipples, teasing one taut peak at a time, but never giving either the full attention they want. That they’re screaming for.

I suck in a harsh breath, my pussy starting to tingle from the preview of what is to come. Or so it hopes. I hope. Whimpering, I wiggle, trying to urge Anton on. Trying to get him to do more than simply run his fingers along my skin.

“Oh, did you want something?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” I moan.

“Use your words, Sawyer,” he says.