Dearest Clementine (22 page)

“I can top that. In fifth grade, we got a new teacher, Ms. Holloway, and all of my friends thought she was hot. I didn’t really see what the fuss was all about. I thought she was pretty, but nothing worth losing sleep over. But when we came back from winter break, she had gotten a makeover and was wearing this really tight red sweater…”

My eyes widen because I know what’s coming.

“Yeah, I guess my fondness for her, uh,
grew
that day.”

I snort, and his face reddens a bit. “Luckily, that only happened whenever she wore that outfit, and the next year she switched to a different school, thank God.”

“Adolescence is plain embarrassing. Parts are growing, hormones are raging, and things are coming out of your body that have no business seeing daylight.”

Gavin busts out laughing, and I grin back, enjoying that we can share these silly memories.

Our phones are sitting on the table after we shared a few photos from the summer, and one buzzes with a text. He glances at it and grins.

“I think this one is for you,” he says slowly, handing me my cell.

It’s a message from Jenna, and because it’s short, the whole thing fits on my screen as an alert:
Ur hard cock felt good between my moist lips.

“Holy crap.”
Really, Jenna?

I glance at him briefly before I bury my head in my hands, his laughter ringing out in the quiet restaurant. I wait for my mortification to subside before I attempt to text back.

I stammer, “If I don’t write back something… appropriate, she’ll send me more.”
I’m going to kill her!

When I’m done typing the message, Gavin raises his eyebrows as he waits for me to share my response. Reluctantly, I hand him my phone.

He clears his throat. “So that represents a B—”

“Yup,” I say, cutting him off. My message to Jenna:
:0

Yes, that’s our blow job emoticon.

He chuckles, and I give him the finger. “Don’t talk to me right now.”

His laughter is warm as he reaches across the table and peels my other hand off my face and pulls me around the table, settling me in his lap.

Our waitress, who has been ogling him all night, walks up and stares at us. Gavin has his arms wrapped around me, and I’m still blushing.

“Dessert?” she asks.

He nibbles my neck as goosebumps race down my arms. “Yes, she’s dessert.” My face continues to burn as I playfully smack his arm and slide off his lap.

Over a couple of slices of cheesecake and coffee, we talk about our classes, my sex-obsessed romance-writing professor, and all the weird things he’s seen as an RA. He seems careful not to ask me anything about my family or Daren, which is a relief. I get the sense that I can tell him when I’m ready, a thought that puts me at ease.

Actually, everything about our date makes me relax. The way he laughs at me when I’m being a smartass. The way he ignores our beautiful waitress who looks like she wants him for her own main course. The way he holds my hand all night or wraps his arm around me as we walk home.

So when we reach my building, I’m definitely not ready to say goodnight. He stops in front of the steps and tucks his hands in his pockets. The fact that he’s trying to respect my need to take things slowly makes me want him more.

I stand on the step above him and pull him to me by wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Gavin,” I whisper.

“Clementine.” His breath tickles my ear.

“I’d like for you to come upstairs with me.” I lean back and look at him, studying his face—his strong jaw, those full lips, his smoldering eyes. Damn, he’s sexy. “I’m not ready for any home runs tonight, but maybe we could go for second or third base?” I keep staring into his eyes as I kiss his lips softly, waiting for him to answer.

“Have I ever told you how much I fucking love baseball?” He leans down to deepen the kiss as I try not to giggle.

God bless baseball!

* * *

The instant my bedroom door shuts, Gavin’s hands wrap around my waist. He whips me around and presses himself against me, and he feels so good.

He threads his fingers through my hair, sending sparks through me like a plasma globe.

“Does this mean you’ll go out with me next weekend? And maybe the weekend after that?” he says in between kisses. “And the one after that?”

Dear lord. If he keeps talking to me like that, I might not be able to keep this from going too far. Somehow, I have the restraint to push him back, but I keep my hands on his shoulders. He frowns at the lost contact, but there are things I need to ask.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” I ask hesitantly. Does he think of me as his girlfriend? The thought of that used to terrify me because it means vulnerability and letting someone get close and the threat of getting hurt, but when I think back to Angry Red, it galls me to think of sharing him with anyone.

He chuckles, pulling me closer. “Baby, I hate to tell you this, but we’ve been dating”—he leans down and kisses my neck—“for a while.”

It’s difficult to concentrate as his mouth migrates down to my shoulder, and it takes everything in me to stay focused.

“So you haven’t… you haven’t been going out with anyone else?” His answer scares me, but I need to know.

“Not since I slept in your bed. On your birthday.” He says it without hesitation, his breath hot against my skin.

Wow. That wasn’t what I was expecting. It’s better. Grinning, I start to relax against him when he stops caressing me and looks up.

“Why do you ask?”

I bite my lip. What do I say to that?
I saw you with that bombshell and instantly assumed you guys hooked up?
Okay, maybe I don’t say that.

“I, um, saw you talking to a girl the other day in the student union, and she seemed… comfortable with you.”

He tilts his head, obviously confused.

“She had red hair?” I say it like a question to prompt him. I bite my tongue to keep from sharing what I overheard in the convenience store because I really can’t be sure Angry Red was talking about Gavin.

I don’t mean to bring her up like this, and this is most definitely
not
the way to kick off a heated makeout session, but I guess we should talk about it if I have hopes of this going anywhere.

“Angelique? You saw me talking to Angelique?”

“Beautiful. Tall. Curvy.” Glancing down, even with the push-up bra, I’m immediately disappointed with my B-cup.
Jesus, Clementine. Stop being so insecure.

He angles my chin up with his finger, forcing me to look him in the eye.

“Darlin’, that’s been over a long time.” He sighs, and I see exasperation and fatigue in his expression instead of longing or regret. “Yeah, she wants to get back together, but I’m not interested.”

I search his face, looking for any hint of half-truths or ambiguity but find none. I nod, but I’m embarrassed I asked, and I start to look away, but he won’t let me. He holds my face between both hands, gently stroking my skin with the rough pads of his thumbs. “She’s got nothing on you. Trust me.”

That’s what it comes down to. Trust. Do I trust Gavin not to hurt me? Staring into his endless emerald eyes, I think I do.

I smile back, the relief in my chest palpable, and I reach up and run my finger over his lips.

“If we’re going to do this—date, I mean,” I say quickly, realizing how that sounds—“I want to be clear: I don’t share.”

He laughs, turning and pushing me onto the bed. “Good. That makes two of us.” He slides over me and kisses me hungrily. “Agreed. No sharing,” he says into my mouth.

As our bodies meld together, my hands roam down his fabulously rock-hard body, along his broad shoulders until they reach those beautifully sculpted abs. Frustrated by the barrier of his clothes, I tug his shirt out from his pants and drag my fingers down his stomach.

I love his weight on me, and I’m reveling in his absolute perfection when I hear knocking on the front door. When it doesn’t stop, I kiss Gavin once more and groan. “Hold that thought,” I say as I crawl out from under him. After I let in Dani, who had forgotten her keys, I scurry back into my room. Knowing that I can hear Jenna and Ryan screwing from the four corners of this apartment, I walk over to my desk and pop on the makeout mix on my iPod, the one I’ve been using to write all of my hot hookup scenes in my story.

As Sia’s exotic voice comes through the speakers, I turn back to Gavin and kick off my shoes. He’s sitting on my bed, watching me. Standing in front of him, I put my hands on my hips as I soak him in.

“I rather like you in my bed,” I admit. He is a fine specimen of a man.

His eyes are hooded as he reaches out and runs his hand up my leg. When he reaches the edge of my thigh-highs, his eyes widen briefly and his breath catches. “Do I get to see what’s under here?” he asks, his voice deep and seductive.

“If you’re very good. Or very bad. I haven’t decided which yet.” I marvel at how I’ve become undone and wanton for this man. How I crave his touch.

He licks his lips and pulls me to him so that I’m straddling his lap. My dress pulls up, and the edges of my tights peek through. His hands immediately go there, his fingers lightly skimming my pale skin.

“You know you make me crazy, right?” he whispers as he kisses my neck. His words make my heart thunder in my chest, and I’m aching, everywhere. I’ve never felt like this before. Needy. Euphoric. Wanting him under my skin.

“I could say the same about you,” I say breathlessly as moisture pools between my thighs.

His mouth descends to my collarbone as I rock against the hardness between my legs, making us both groan. I want him so badly, my skin burning against him. Pushing him back onto my bed, I lean down to run the tip of my tongue gently over his lips.

“Fuck, Clementine,” he growls, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling me tightly to him. I’m careening over a precipice, everything in me yearning to know what’s on the other side.

I push away and sit up, leaning back to rub the apex of my thighs into him. His eyes flutter closed. There’s something powerful about sitting astride him, watching him react to my movements. As I reach out, tracing his cheekbones with my finger, Gavin looks at me, his expression so intense and full of the same desire.

His hands travel up my hips and across my stomach until he cups my breasts. The thrill of having his hands on me like this catches me off guard, and I arch my back, shamelessly forcing my body against his. He pulls down the front of my dress, exposing my bra. Before I realize it, he’s unlatched the snap in front, and I’m bare, the cold air giving me goosebumps. I lurch forward a bit, my long hair in my face, almost covering me but not quite.

“You. Are. So. Beautiful.” The appreciation in his voice has me trembling. When I lost my virginity, the guy basically hiked up my skirt and went to town. And I allowed that memory to harden me to other men, to think they were all alike.

But this? Feeling cherished. Desired. Worshiped. It’s an overwhelming rush. I’ve always thought getting naked with someone would be embarrassing, but watching Gavin want me somehow makes me more confident.

Reaching down, I slowly unbutton his shirt. When I reach the last button, he sits up, and my hands travel along his muscular chest until they reach his shoulders. The sight of his bare skin makes me want more. So much more.

I push the shirt off him and reach for his belt buckle, drawing it open before I scoot off him so he can slide off his pants. Standing next to him, I remember Ryan’s words about Gavin deserving lewd. I don’t know that I’m going to go that far, but I definitely feel safe with him, treasured by him, and I want to show my appreciation.

His hand goes to the back of my knees to pull me back, but I stop and reach for the hem of my dress, slowly pulling it up and over my head so that I’m only wearing a pair of black bikini underwear and thigh-highs.

“Damn, baby.” His eyes take me in, the hunger in his stare palpable. I let him look, a wolfish grin spreading on his face.

In a heartbeat, he pulls me back onto the bed, flipping us around so that I’m on my back, making me gasp. He settles between my legs, fitting our bodies together, with only his boxers and my underwear separating us. I’m drenched
there
and a little embarrassed by my own desire, but as he presses against me, I could care less.

We rock together, his mouth on my neck like he’s tasting me. I almost can’t stand what he’s doing to my body. I’m on fire everywhere we touch.

His hand travels up my thigh, and as it reaches the edge of my panties, he looks up at me, a question in his eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me, an answer to his unspoken words because, God, yes, I want him to touch me.

As he slips his hand beneath my underwear, sliding across the most sensitive part of me, I moan, arching my back, unable to control myself. His finger travels up and down in a slow, delectable rhythm that has me panting.

I’m so close a few minutes later when he slides in and palms me, and I explode, gripping his shoulders as I come unraveled, shaking and delirious with pleasure.