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Holt deepens the kiss as he gives me his weight—and my body comes alive.

We’ve made out a few times. These forbidden moments of stolen pleasure the highlight of my teen years, I just know it.

Heck, everything with Holt—every moment—will highlight the happy, carefree time I’m living now.

I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want this to end.

And yet, I can’t wait to experience more with Holt. More of this. More of life.

“I love you.” Holt swallows the words in another deep kiss. He pushes his knee between my legs, giving me even more of his weight.

“I love you, Faye.” Holt rocks into me, just a little. But I feel so much. He’s hard behind his jeans. I swear the stitching around my heart comes undone, it’s beating so hard and fast.

I spread my legs wider for him, wanting to feel more of him.

He grinds into me again. My eyes roll back behind my closed lids.

Between my legs, my panties feel warm and wet and slippery. There is a pulse of hunger where, before Holt, I’d never felt it.

“I want to touch you.” The words stamp heat against my lips as longing spears into the core of me. I’m so turned on. Under my skin, I swear I feel the spread of fire.

“Touch me.”

Holt presses his mouth to mine again, his tongue slipping between my lips to taste and tangle with mine. His hand slips under my shirt. His skin is rough to my soft, the evidence of his hours working out, on the ice, and working for his dad stamped there on his palms. But I love the feel.

I think this could be my very first addiction. It’s even better than Cherry’s glazed croissants. Definitely better than her cinnamon buns.

His hand moves higher to cup my breast over my bra. A low groan breaks free from the trap of his throat, and it’s me who hurries to swallow the sound. I want to trap it forever in the depths of me. To carry something of him inside me forever.

I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Deep and rough and dripping with want for only me.

My hips rock into Holt’s grind, and I swear, my head spins with the sensations. I need more. I need him.

He abandons my breast, dragging his hand down my belly to the band of my jeans. He breaks our kiss, and my eyes drift open to see him watching me through hooded eyes the color of the deepest brown.

He’s so handsome. So mine.

He says nothing as he pops the button of my jeans, then slowly pushes the zipper down. There’s a question in his eyes. I only need to say stop, and he will.

But I don’t.

I don’t want him to stop.

I don’t take my eyes off his as his fingertips find the band of my panties, dipping just inside. My lips part and air invades my lungs in a rush. His eyes drop from mine for the first time to land on my mouth. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it fast.

His eyes lift back up to mine and they are filled with so much. More than I can decipher. More than I have the experience to decipher.

Still, my body responds.

There is physical pain between my legs now. The throbbing pulse he’s inspired there is a violent, insistent thing.

It’s the sweetest, most addictive agony.

Oh, wow. If this is what it feels like to be an adult, sign me up. I’m here for it. All the way here for it.

Again, there is wordless question in his eyes as he begins to slowly push his hand deeper into my panties. My belly quivers and sharp breath hitches in my throat. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as his hand touches me there. Between my legs. Where I’ve never been touched before by anyone who was not me.

And this is nothing like when I touch myself.