Page 84 of Slapshot Kiss

He leans in and kisses me.

The second his mouth touches mine, some of the tension leaves my body. This I know. Kissing Wyatt has become familiar enough that I don’t have to think about every little thing anymore. I can just sink into it.

My hand curls into the front of his shirt, and his slides around my waist, pulling me a little closer. His mouth moves slowly over mine, nothing rushed about it, and for a few seconds I forget what we were even talking about.

Then I remember.

Orgasm.

Right.

My pulse immediately picks up again.

I have absolutely no idea what comes next.

I expect him to undress me for starters. Or should I do it myself maybe?

I’m still trying to work out whether taking off my own shirt would look confident or completely ridiculous when Wyatt breaks the kiss.

I wait.

He doesn’t reach for the hem of my shirt. He doesn’t start touching me anywhere new either.

Instead, he brushes a strand of hair away from my face, studying me for a moment. “I think we should go about this a little differently, though. If you’re okay with it.”

“Hmm?”

My brain is still somewhere back at his mouth.

“I think you should learn what feels good to you first.”

I blink.

That takes a second to penetrate the fog in my head.

“Wait. What?”

His mouth twitches.

I stare at him. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“I am.”

“But you just said I should—” I stop when I realize what he means. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

My stomach drops approximately three floors.

“You mean I should do it?”

“If you’re comfortable with that.”

I stare at him.

Of all the directions I imagined this conversation going, that wasn’t one of them.

Somehow, the idea of Wyatt touching me is less intimidating. I could let him take charge. He knows what he’s doing. I could follow along and hope my body cooperates.