Page 57 of Sex Positive
She nods. “Okay.”
His fingers skim down her throat and then pull away. “Come with me.”
Wes strolls to his bedroom. Charlie steadies herself before following him, a mixture of calm and anticipation warring in her gut. But most importantly, there’s a feeling of absolute comfort, something that has never been present with anyone before him.
His room is painted pale gray, and framed photos hang on the walls. A queen-size bed covered in a navy duvet and gray throw pillows takes up most of the space. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf sits on the opposite wall next to a window overlooking the parking lot.
Wes stands in the middle of the room, relaxed, watching her take in the space.
“I like this for you,” she says. Then her eyes land on a candle flickering on one of the bedside tables. She stares at it pointedly, then at him. “Really?”
He shrugs. “Don’t overthink it.”
“This isn’t supposed to be flower petals and lit candles. It’s an experiment.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “God, your dirty talk is positivelytoe-curling.”
She rolls her eyes and steps toward the bookshelf, but he wraps his fingers around her wrist, tugging her to his side.
“No you don’t, Rogers.” He presses his mouth to her throat. “You can do a closeup examination later.” His lips brush the curve of her ear. “Go lie on the bed.”
Wes’sbed. A place she’s only ever dreamed she’d be.
At his assertive command, her blood ignites, a shiver of anticipatory excitement racing down her spine. It’s maddening how comfortable she feels with him, the prickly unease she felt with Nash entirely absent.
“Why do you have so many throw pillows?” she asks, tossing one to the floor.
He kneels beside her, his eyes gleaming. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
She arches a brow, challenging. “Why don’t you do something about it?”
He barks with laughter. “Somouthy.” He nips the notch between her neck and collarbone, then moves his mouth over her throat. She gasps, the sensation somehow more exquisite than it was the first time.
“And soresponsive.” His hand hovers over her waist. “May I—”
She nods before he finishes. “Yes.”
His palm burns as it slides under her shirt, dancing up her rib cage, light and delicate, before curving around her breast. Pushing her back against the pillows, he sucks at the hollow of her throat. When she moves her hand to the nape of his neck, dragging her fingers through his hair, he lets out a soft moan.
“Do you touch yourself, Rogers?”
His words spark a match, igniting the fire inside her. Her pulse races faster, and he slides his hand down her neck to rest on her collarbone. She wonders if he can feel her erratic heartbeat. There’s no way he can’t.
“I’m not a prude.” She fights for the last bit of control over her sanity before she spontaneously combusts from his touch. “Just a virgin.”
A smile tugs at his lips, his mouth so close to hers, and she considers letting go and…leaning in.
“Teach me how to touch you,” he whispers. “Show me how to make you feel good.”
His hands skate down her rib cage to her waist, hooking into the waistband of her leggings. His eyes, dark glittering jewels, rise to meet hers. “Can I?”
Her breath stutters, and she nods.
He sucks on her pulse point. “Words, Charlie.”
“Yes,” she gasps.
Slowly, he rolls down her leggings and underwear, and she shifts her hips to help him.
