Del felt his heart quicken in his chest at her reaction, and he reached behind him, blindly putting the bottle on the floor before he brought his hand back up and slid it beneath her hair. The way she was kissing him only served to provoke him, and he cupped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her further into the kiss.
As soon as he did, he felt her lips part as her tongue entered his mouth, and all sense of restraint or coherency left him in a rush. Somewhere in the back of his hazy mind, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, knew he had just crossed a line, yet he deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency, shifting his body closer to hers.
Suddenly he felt her leg come over his hips as she moved to straddle his lap, and Del forced himself to stifle a groan.
She brought her hands to his face then, tilting it up so she could kiss him more freely, and he allowed her to, relishing the way her tongue felt against his; gentle but determined, and mind-numbingly sensual.
His head started to spin with the taste of her, with the feeling of her weight on his lap, and he couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to lose himself in what was suddenly happening.
Del brought his hands to her sides, gripping her waist, trying to keep himself grounded. She felt so tiny in his hands, and suddenly he was grazing them up her sides, stopping on her ribs before sliding them back down to her hips.
Lauren nipped his bottom lip then, igniting a visceral reaction in him, and he gripped her hips and pulled her firmly against his own.
She gasped against his mouth, followed by a soft, throaty moan that nearly caused him to lose his mind. He jerked back and stared up at her, wide-eyed and breathless.
“Jesus Christ,” he exhaled before he brought his mouth back to hers, and she met him in earnest, kissing him with { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: leasharenewed intensity.
He hadn’t expected any of this: for her to kiss him back, for her to take control the way she was, for that sexy, womanly sound to come out of her mouth.
She was determined. She was confident. She was perfect.
And he wanted her. Badly.
Del slid his hands up under her shirt, gripping her waist and feeling the heat of her skin against his palms, when the sound of a door slamming below them caught his attention. He was hoping he’d imagined it until he heard the muffled yell from downstairs.
“Yo, douchebag! How’s your face?” The laughter of two other boys followed, and Del instantly pulled his hands from under Lauren’s shirt and pushed her back somewhat roughly by her shoulders.
She whimpered in protest and leaned back toward him, clearly oblivious to the sounds coming from downstairs, and Del reached down again and gripped her hips, lifting her off his body and forcibly putting her down on the floor next to him.
She looked completely stunned: her eyes were darker than he’d ever seen them, her hair somewhat mussed, and her chest was heaving as she stared at him. She was pure sex in that moment, and he felt something frighteningly powerful tearing at him. Every part of his body was charged; it actually felt like his blood was vibrating in his body. He had never been this turned on in his entire life, but he knew it was so much more than that.
Lauren leaned forward on her hands, attempting to bring her mouth back to his, and for a second, he gave himself over to the raw need and met her, their lips moving together again, still hungry. He felt her hand come to the side of his face as she ran her fingertips over his cheek, feather-light and gentle despite her urgency.
In that moment, something irrevocable ignited inside him, and he knew he’d never be the same.
“Tell the truth, Delaney! Did she slap you because you can’t hold your load?” a voice called, spurring another bout of raucous laughter. As the sounds of his friends coming up the stairs burst into his consciousness, Del jerked away from Lauren again.
“You should go,” he said through his labored breath.
Lauren stared at him for a second before she blinked suddenly, her eyes widening as she glanced at the door, as if she’d just come back down to earth and heard them for the first time.
Del reached for his bottle as she jumped up from the floor, stumbling a bit as she composed herself, and just as his bedroom door burst open, she turned and headed toward it.
“See you tomorrow,” she called casually over her shoulder, but the look in her eyes was pure fire, and Del could only swallow and nod in return as she squeezed her way through his rowdy friends and slipped out the door.
He spent the next hour in relative silence as his friends continued to take turns tormenting him for the Tanya incident. He knew they attributed his silence to being drunk, or angry, or both, and he let them.
But the entire time, all he could do was sit there reliving that moment with Lauren.
And when they finally left, having tapped themselves out of crude jokes for the evening, Del laid in bed for hours; sleep eluded him as he replayed those last few minutes with her over and over, until his heart rate sped up and his breathing became irregular.
Eventually, the heat of the memory wore off, along with the buzz of the alcohol, and was quickly replaced with an overwhelming sense of guilt.
What the hell had he been thinking?
{ display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: leashaHow could he have kissed her that way? Handled her that way?
And what would have happened if his friends hadn’t shown up when they did? If he had allowed himself to—
Del couldn’t even let himself finish the thought. He would have never forgiven himself.
He would have hated himself.
And what was he supposed to do now? What was she thinking? After she had time to decompress, would she be angry? Offended? Or worse, would she expect to eventually finish what they started?
Del closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was such an asshole.
At around four in the morning, he fell into a restless sleep, still wondering what the hell he was going to say to Lauren the following day.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot of the school, he had decided on a plan of action.
He would avoid her.
He knew it was weak and pathetic, but he had already determined that he was an asshole. Might as well add coward to the list as well.
His inexcusable plan worked until fifth period, when he turned the corner to see her waiting at his locker. She shouldn’t have been there. She had gym now, all the way on the other side of campus.
He faltered for only a second before immediately putting on a casual face and continuing toward her.
Her expression was tentative as she looked up at him.
“Hey,” she said softly, stepping back to allow him access to his combination lock.
“‘Sup?” he said.
There was a beat of silence before she uttered the dreaded words.
“Can we talk?”
“About what?” he asked casually, spinning the lock and not even paying attention to the numbers.
“About last night,” she said, and this time, there was a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“What about it?”
Del knew it was a dick thing to say as soon as it came out of his mouth, but he didn’t know how else to handle the conversation. He hadn’t prepared for it at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift as she folded her arms and cocked her head at him. “Are you going to say it was a dare again? Because it wasn’t this time.”
Yes, she was definitely annoyed now. Her words were clipped, her tone brazen.
Del turned his head toward her, his hand still on his combination lock. “No, I wasn’t going to say it was a dare. I was going to say it was a mistake.”
Lauren’s brow instantly smoothed as she took the tiniest step back, the hurt apparent in her eyes.
Fuck.
He needed to fix this. He didn’t want to hurt her. It was exactly the opposite.