Falling Into You (Falling 1)

“God, she was intense,” Kyle said, snorting in laughter.

“Yeah she was,” I agreed. “I think she knew what we were doing, and she didn’t like it one bit.”

“Well no shit she knew,” Kyle said. “There’s only one reason two sixteen year olds would get a hotel room on Valentine’s Day without any luggage.”

“Think she would tell anyone?” I asked.

“Who would she tell? It’s not like we’re running away.”

I had no answer for that besides a shrug and a nod. We were at our room, 313. Kyle slid the card in and the light turned green with a click, audible in the silent hallway. He pushed the door open, led me in to the darkened room, clutching my hand tightly.

He flipped a switch, bathing the room in too-bright light. He seemed to sense the feeling of the overhead light being too bright and immediately left my side to click on the lamp affixed to the wall next to the queen bed. I turned off the overhead light, and we both sighed in relief.

Kyle sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the end of his tie. I smiled at him. He was so handsome in his black suit, a daring pink tie the only splash of color against his black dress shirt. He unbuttoned his blazer and rubbed his palms on his knees.

I licked my lips, twitching the hem of my sleeveless, coral knee-length dress. Our eyes met and skidded past each other, nerves rushing back in spades, now that we were alone in a hotel room.

At my house or his, in his car on the back roads, everywhere we’d ever kissed, there had been the knowledge that someone could find us. The back roads were regularly patrolled by county sheriffs, and at least one of our parents were always home. This was the first time we’d ever been truly alone, in private, with no possibility of being interrupted.

My heart was beating so hard I was sure Kyle could hear it from across the room.

My eyes flicked back to his face, watched his tongue slide across his lower lip, and I mimicked the action, almost unconsciously. That was the breaking point. Kyle lunged off the bed and was pressed up against me before I could react, one of his large, strong hand cupping my cheek, the other resting on my waist just above my hip. He didn’t kiss me immediately, though. He hesitated, his lips an inch from mine, his eyes hot and soft on mine.

“Are you afraid?” He whispered, his breath huffing softly on my lips.

I shrugged, a tiny roll of one shoulder. “Yes, a little.”

“We can leave.”

I shook my head. “I want to be here with you,” I breathed.

I lifted my hands to tangle my fingers in his hair. I pushed my fingers through his hair, gel-spiked locks prickly but soft, then curled my hand around his nape and pulled him into a kiss.

“Let’s just start with this,” I said, pulling away. “One step at a time.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

We stood in the middle of the hotel room, kissing, hands grazing faces, pawing at shoulders and backs. We didn’t try to push it, initially. I felt his heart pounding in his ribs, my hand on his chest, and the knowledge that he was as nervous as me gave me courage.

I pulled back from the kiss, met his gaze, then brushed his suit coat from his shoulders. It fell to the ground behind him, and I pulled his tie loose with both hands, slid the silk free and dropped it on the blazer. He searched my eyes, waiting. I fumbled with the tiny top button, finally got it open with a nervous laugh. Kyle laughed with me, resting his hands on my hips, lower now. Our eyes were locked together as I undid his dress shirt one button at a time, my hands shaking. Finally, the shirt hung open, revealing a stark-white wife-beater tank top that hugged his muscular torso. I took one of his hands in mine, unbuttoned the cuff, then the other, tugged the sleeves down past his wrists so the shirt billowed to the floor at his feet.

He reached behind me for the zipper of my dress, but I stopped him. I wasn’t done yet. I was determined to do this right, to do this as I’d imagined. See, I’d pictured this moment over and over in my mind. I would slowly undress him, and then wait, heart in my throat as he unzipped my dress and let it fall away. I never got past that moment in my imagination, though.

He kicked off his shoes, and then stood still once more, waiting, smiling hesitantly. I licked my lips, watching his eyes follow my tongue. I put my hands on his waist, hesitated, then pushed up the cotton tank top, baring his torso slowly, one inch at a time. He lifted his arms over his head and we removed the shirt together, leaving Kyle standing shirtless in his suit pants, gloriously beautiful.

Now came the hard part. I drew in a deep breath and reached for his belt. His eyes widened and his fingers tightened on my hips, curling into the fabric of my dress and into the flesh beneath. My hands were trembling like leaves in a long wind as I unbuckled the belt, drew it free, and then reached for the slip-catch of his pants. He held his breath and drew in his belly as I opened the top. His eyes closed briefly as I tugged the tab of his zipper down. His pants fell around his ankles and he stepped out of them. His tight boxer-briefs were tented in front, and we both blushed and looked away.

He kissed me, pushing my hands to my sides. “My turn,” he whispered.

I nodded, and now my heart crashed wildly in my chest. I had a lot less for him to take off. He slid his hands up my bare arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake. I held my breath as he pinched the zipper pull in his fingers, bit my lip as he drew it down agonizingly slowly. A whisper of fingers against flesh, and then my dress was pooling around my feet, leaving me standing before him in my bra and underwear.

He’d seen me in a bikini before, but this was different somehow.

“You’re beautiful, Nell.” His voice was a husky breath in the silence.

“So are you.”

He shook his head, giving me a lopsided grin. His fingers skated over my shoulders, toying with the bra straps. His grin faded as I reached up behind me to unhook the bra. He stopped me, his hands stilling mine.

“Are you sure?” His eyes searched mine, tender and hesitant.

Hesitant. A voice in the back of my head murmured doubts, but I pushed them away.

I nodded. He brought my hands around to rest on his shoulders, and then took the bra hooks in his hands. He fumbled a bit, and his tongue darted out. I stifled a laugh against his shoulder.

“Shut up,” he muttered. “It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s cute.”

He growled under his breath as he freed one hook, then a second, mumbling a curse as the third and final hook defied him. “It’s not supposed to be cute,” he said, peering over my shoulder to try and see what he was doing. “It’s supposed to be hot and erotic and romantic.”