condoms right off the bat.
Her mouth got a little wetter. She wanted to go back to kissing, not go that far. A thump rocked over in her chest. All right, not that far this time. She bit her lower lip and tipped the box enough to see it was opened and it was full. Good to know. For next time. Next time, Tasha! She pushed the box back in place and mentally smacked her head.
Sex on a first date would be a little fast. Or second date. Spending ten minutes explaining her custom built shower rod surely counted as a date. No wait. He helped her sweep last week and stayed for ice cream after. Ice cream was definite date material that would make today a third date. Third date wasn't so fast. Three semi-sort-of dates. Her friends dropped panties on the first date. Tasha never had. She'd always waited a little bit to see if the guy was just there for her pants or if there was more.
First time for everything. It's what they said. Her palms were damp and she wiped them down her hips as she turned and walked from the bathroom. It was all that kiss's fault. It shouldn't have been so good. He’d lightly tugged at her hair and somehow that move yanked her into a thousand pieces and made her toes curl up all at once. Another shake shimmied through her limbs. Good Lord.
Maybe going through his things wasn't the best idea. She crossed through his room, heading for the door, but his big bed seduced her into stopping in her tracks. It didn't look big enough to be a king, but it was far bigger than her little twin mattress shoved in the corner. Plenty of space to curl on with him. Then some rolling room should that be needed. She couldn't help it and pressed down on the mattress. The pillow top gently gave as a mattress should and sprang back in place. Sweet mother, her back was crying out to lay on that.
The closet door stood open and his blue work shirts hung up along the left. A cute welding cap with cherries all over it dangled from a hook. A guy from college had taken a welding class, but his stuff was always sweaty and gross.
This one was clean, but a small tear on the side was fraying at the edges. She stroked her finger over the pattern and caught the dim, faded look of the red cherries against her bright and shiny nails. It'd gone through a lot of washes. Patrick's stuff was actually used daily and wasn't some shop class taken for credits.
She glanced over her shoulder and didn't hear or see anything, so she lifted the cap and fit it over her head in the mirror. The soft material dropped down to her eye lashes and she rolled it up one time, kicking the mini sized bill up in the air. A snicker started up and she silenced it to not draw attention.
Last thing she wanted was to be caught playing dress up in his clothes. Guys were supposed to be into women wearing their stuff, but it seemed too soon to be putting on his clothes. She stroked a finger down one of the stiff, long sleeves. She really wasn't up for any humiliation tonight, no matter how much she wanted to see where the bottom of this shirt would land. Knees? Mid-thighs? It wouldn't be any higher than that.
She lifted a shoulder and that kiss was back at the forefront of her mind. It had just been too hot. And his sides where she'd clung to him had been nothing but hard muscles. Plus that hard line of him in his pants that had appeared against her hip. A chill chased by a flush of heat went over her as she touched his shirt again.
She couldn't.
But she could.
But she shouldn't .
All the months of watching him come and go for ice cream and then that kiss and him being in her room and the scent of his cologne in the air washed over at once. She jerked his shirt off the hanger and glanced over her shoulder.
So what. It was just sex. With a hot guy she knew little about, but then at the same time, it seemed like she knew tons. He just...he got it. He got what she wanted and she ripped her shirt off. As sexy as his ass was in those jeans, and as hot as his hands had been
Her mouth got a little wetter. She wanted to go back to kissing, not go that far. A thump rocked over in her chest. All right, not that far this time. She bit her lower lip and tipped the box enough to see it was opened and it was full. Good to know. For next time. Next time, Tasha! She pushed the box back in place and mentally smacked her head.
Sex on a first date would be a little fast. Or second date. Spending ten minutes explaining her custom built shower rod surely counted as a date. No wait. He helped her sweep last week and stayed for ice cream after. Ice cream was definite date material that would make today a third date. Third date wasn't so fast. Three semi-sort-of dates. Her friends dropped panties on the first date. Tasha never had. She'd always waited a little bit to see if the guy was just there for her pants or if there was more.
First time for everything. It's what they said. Her palms were damp and she wiped them down her hips as she turned and walked from the bathroom. It was all that kiss's fault. It shouldn't have been so good. He’d lightly tugged at her hair and somehow that move yanked her into a thousand pieces and made her toes curl up all at once. Another shake shimmied through her limbs. Good Lord.
Maybe going through his things wasn't the best idea. She crossed through his room, heading for the door, but his big bed seduced her into stopping in her tracks. It didn't look big enough to be a king, but it was far bigger than her little twin mattress shoved in the corner. Plenty of space to curl on with him. Then some rolling room should that be needed. She couldn't help it and pressed down on the mattress. The pillow top gently gave as a mattress should and sprang back in place. Sweet mother, her back was crying out to lay on that.
The closet door stood open and his blue work shirts hung up along the left. A cute welding cap with cherries all over it dangled from a hook. A guy from college had taken a welding class, but his stuff was always sweaty and gross.
This one was clean, but a small tear on the side was fraying at the edges. She stroked her finger over the pattern and caught the dim, faded look of the red cherries against her bright and shiny nails. It'd gone through a lot of washes. Patrick's stuff was actually used daily and wasn't some shop class taken for credits.
She glanced over her shoulder and didn't hear or see anything, so she lifted the cap and fit it over her head in the mirror. The soft material dropped down to her eye lashes and she rolled it up one time, kicking the mini sized bill up in the air. A snicker started up and she silenced it to not draw attention.
Last thing she wanted was to be caught playing dress up in his clothes. Guys were supposed to be into women wearing their stuff, but it seemed too soon to be putting on his clothes. She stroked a finger down one of the stiff, long sleeves. She really wasn't up for any humiliation tonight, no matter how much she wanted to see where the bottom of this shirt would land. Knees? Mid-thighs? It wouldn't be any higher than that.
She lifted a shoulder and that kiss was back at the forefront of her mind. It had just been too hot. And his sides where she'd clung to him had been nothing but hard muscles. Plus that hard line of him in his pants that had appeared against her hip. A chill chased by a flush of heat went over her as she touched his shirt again.
She couldn't.
But she could.
But she shouldn't .
All the months of watching him come and go for ice cream and then that kiss and him being in her room and the scent of his cologne in the air washed over at once. She jerked his shirt off the hanger and glanced over her shoulder.
So what. It was just sex. With a hot guy she knew little about, but then at the same time, it seemed like she knew tons. He just...he got it. He got what she wanted and she ripped her shirt off. As sexy as his ass was in those jeans, and as hot as his hands had been
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