Regret Me Not (7 page)

I want him now.

Now isn't soon enough. I want to succumb to the raging need consuming me. I reach for the waistband of his jeans, and fumble with the button. Brayden stops me, taking my hands in his. He advances on me, moving me backward, until I'm against the wall and can't go any further. Still holding me, he lifts my arms up, over my head.

His hands leave mine and inch down my arms, over my breasts, down to the hem of my top shirt. He lifts it and tosses it to the side. Over the material of my cami-shirt, he brings his mouth to my breast and clasps his teeth around one nipple, while his thumb strokes the other, making them stand at attention. Just as I think he's going to lay us down on the hard ground, he pulls back, takes my hands in his and whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

"Did that do anything for you?"

I take an extra breath to find my voice. "You wish."

I play it off. I don't want him to know how incredibly turned on I am. The truth is, he could be wearing a loin covering and hanging from a vine while pounding his chest like Tarzan and I'd think it's hot. It doesn't matter what Brayden does. Just one look at his smoldering eyes, his delicious pouty lips, or his strong sculpted body, and I'm done for. The bottom line is I love him and I want him.

Holding my hand, Brayden leads me into his room. I've been in his house before, but only the kitchen and the living room. His parents don't want us alone in his bedroom.  Not even with the door open. Brayden swears it has nothing to do with me, or anything they heard about my sister. His parents want him to set a good example for his younger brother. I want to believe him, and at times when he flashes the adorable shy smile I think he just might be telling the truth.

At first I'm not sure what color the walls of his rooms are, as they are plastered with posters. The football posters don't surprise me, but the other ones do. The inspirational quotes like, "Did you leave it all on the field today?" and "It's okay to get knocked down, as long as you get back up." They all have a connection to football, at least on the paper they're printed on, a helmet or field in the background, but I know the real connection Brayden has to them runs much deeper than football. These are the words ingrained in his heart. These are the principles he lives by. Each poster has a positive message. One of hard work and success.

"I know, corny right?"

My eyes glass over. "No. It's so . . ."

"Immature? Ridiculous?"

"No. It's . . ." I search for words to describe how awed I am, but I can't find any. "It's just so you. Now I understand why you're always so upbeat and cheery."

Brayden's eyes dart off to the side as he runs a hand through his hair looking uncomfortable. "You
are
trying to ruin my reputation." He teases.

While he regains his composure, I continue to look around and read the words scrolled across his room. "Hey. Stop looking at Tebow's ass." His hands are on my waist. They pull me against him. "Pay attention to me."

"Tebow? Is that who that is?" I nod to a poster with a football player on it, his back to the camera, that says, "I don't know what my future holds, but I do know who holds my future."  

"Yeah," he snickers. "That's who it is. Don't think I don't see you checking him out."

"I would never." I flutter my eyelashes.

"Oh really? Well it just so happens I know for a fact you have a thing for football players."

"Football players? No way. They're barbaric."

"Really? So right now, you’re not hot for a quarterback?" He leans in and kisses my neck, making me moan.

I slap at his chest playfully. "Well, okay, you got me there, but you have to admit, Tebow is something else."

He nips at my lower lip playfully, "Is that so."

I nod. "There's him, and maybe just one other."

His eyes widen, "One other, huh?"

"I can't hide anything from you," the playfulness leaves me, the air around us is heavy. "There's you. You're the exception to the rule."

"Is that so?"

I nod. "You ruined me for all others."

"That's the way it better be. Got it, woman?!" His brown eyes shine with playfulness as he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me over to the bed. The familiar swirling in my belly starts up when I think of what's going to happen in the next few minutes. Instead he sits me down, and takes a seat next to me. Brayden reaches underneath the bed and pulls from it a flat clothing box wrapped in shiny, red paper. I hesitate wondering if he bought sexy lingerie for me to wear. Those things are so intimidating with all the buckles and clasps, not to mention the parts they accentuate. I don't want to make a fool out of myself. I just hope that's not what's in there. I meet his stare, nervous. My hands start to tremble again.

"Go on, open it." He nudges me playfully with his shoulder.

I turn the box on its side and slide my thumb under a piece of tape.

"Come on, just rip it open!" he orders.

I do as I'm told and have no idea what to expect when I pull the top of the box open. It's a football jersey. It looks just like Brayden's. It's red and black, our school colors.

"Your jersey?" I ask.

"No. Your jersey. Take it out."

I lift it up and turn it around to see if it has Brayden's name and number on the back. Instead it reads:

Turner

loves

Green

"I love it!"

"Oh yeah?" His hands are resting on my hips. "Then can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Go take this off," he tugs on my cami, "and model it for me. I want to see how good it looks on you."

I smile at him. It may not be sexy lingerie, but I can certainly handle putting on a football jersey. "Okay, I'll be right back."

I waste no time changing into my new jersey. I take a quick look in the mirror. It looks cute, not exactly the look I was going for when I left my house. I reach into my pocket, pull out a hair tie and gather my long, brown hair up in a ponytail. I might not look sexy and goddess like, but I'll do all I can to embrace and enhance the cuteness.

I take a deep breath outside Brayden's room. This is it. I know it is. Everything is about to change. I'm going to cross over some invisible boundary. My heart is racing, my hands trembling. My face is burning hot. I close my eyes and tell myself to just go with it. I don't want to think and overanalyze; I don't want to worry or let fear into my heart. I just want to enjoy this.

Brayden looks like he hasn't moved. I wonder if it's possible that he's as nervous as I am? While he admits to messing around with a lot of girls, he claims he only had sex with two. I don't know who they are. The first one he hooked up with when the football team went to Florida on spring break last year, and the other lived in a neighboring town before she moved to Pennsylvania over the summer. He promises he doesn't keep in touch with them, not even on Facebook or Instagram. That helps ease my anxiety a bit. While I feel a little less insecure, I don't want to be just some random girl he sleeps with. These are exactly the kind of thoughts I don't want running through my head. Not now.

As long as it's not my sister or Alana, I tell myself I can deal. It's not about who he was with before, but who he's with from here on out. Still I hope that somehow, someway this will be the time he remembers with all the details when he's old and gray. The one that holds all the special meaning for him.

Brayden stands and meets me half way across the room. "It fits perfect."

I spin around, chest out, hand on my hip, showing it off from all angles.

"You look so beautiful."

"Thank you." I lick my bottom lip.

He dips his head down and kisses it. "Are you scared?" he whispers. I almost hear the crackling of the flames between us.

"A little."

"I promise I'll be gentle." His hands move up and down my arms, and I lean into him.

"I know," I giggle like an idiot. "I'm sorry," I shrug.

He pulls back and with a steady gaze looks me in the eye. "Don't be sorry. We don't have to do this."

I concentrate on pulling myself together. "I want to." Feeling the need to prove my words, my unsteady fingers move to the button on my jeans. I take a deep breath and without moving my eyes from his, I step out of them. Brayden's eyes fall below my waist and lick my skin like a burning hot flame.

I reach for the button on his pants. He smiles as his hands take hold of mine. "Promise me something?" I can't imagine what he could want me to promise at a time like this. That I won't fake it? I give him a questioning look. "I know this is a huge step for you, just promise you won't run away from me."

I bite down the urge to ask why I would do that, but promise instead. "Is this why you've been acting so weird today? You're afraid I'm just using you for sex?" I tease feeling relief sweep over me.

"That's right, I've seen you undressing me with your eyes. I know you want me for my body."

"Do I ever!" I wiggle my eyebrows at him and lift his shirt off.

Brayden turns from me and heads over to his dresser. He reaches in the top draw and rummages around, pulling from it a closed box of condoms.

"You mean you don't carry one in your wallet?"

He smirks. "I do, but it's so old I don't trust it. I'd have to be pretty desperate to use it." He takes a small square from the box and tosses it on the bed.

"Then why . . ."

"My grandmother. She gave it to me on my twelfth birthday. Made me promise to keep it there."

"You were twelve?"

Panic settles into my voice. Twelve? What the hell was he doing at that age that his grandmother thought giving him a condom was appropriate? I'm nervous again and not buying his "There were only two girls before you" story.

"If it makes you feel any better," he leans over and kisses my neck, his tongue swirling in tiny circles, making me forget I'm upset. His warm hands are on my back under the jersey, gliding over my skin. "I didn't even know what they were for," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. My bra is unclasped. I wonder if he can hear how loud my heart is beating. I bring my hands up to his chest. "I thought they were water balloons." He slips his hand through the sleeve and pulls the strap down, off my arm, leaving a tingling trail on my skin. His other hand is already doing the same on the other side. "And if I even had a clue you were coming into my life, I would've waited." His hands rest for a a moment on my hips before he wraps his arms around my waist and crushes my body against his. His mouth meets mine for another deep, demanding kiss, and I'm lost.

I want him.

I need him.

Nothing else matters.

He breaks away once more, his forehead leaning against mine, "Ready?"

I can't speak, instead I reach my hand down and grab the bulge between his legs
.
I can only look up and nod. I am ready. I've been ready for a while, and I can feel how ready he is. He leads me to the bed and lies down beside me.

"Kenzie, I want you to be comfortable with my body. I want you to touch me, everywhere."

My entire body trembles, and I'm afraid to move. I'm not sure what he wants me to do. He lifts my hand and covering it with his own, he brings it up to his face, and slides it down his neck, over his chest, down his center, following the trail of hair that leads straight down, all the way down, between his legs.

"Your hands are so soft, I love when you touch me." He pushes himself up onto his elbow. "Now its my turn."

I swallow hard anticipating his touch and the moment the pulsing need I feel throbbing inside me is satisfied. Just like he did on himself, his hand starts on the side of my face and slowly travels down. He holds my chin for a moment and meets my lips as his hand skims over my neck and down to my breasts. He visits each nipple with his thumb and forefinger tweaking them before continuing his journey. At their final destination, Brayden slips his fingers between my legs and inside me, one at a time. I wish he'd stop torturing me.

"I'm honored to be your first," he whispers as he climbs on top of me.

He hesitates, and I'm not sure why, did I do something wrong? Did he change his mind?

He takes a deep breath, and I start to feel pressure down below. He's not changing his mind, he's taking it slow. I gasp and hold him tight as the pressure turns to pain.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?" He brushes his hand down the side of my face.

Afraid he might pull away, instinctively I tilt my hips towards him, and hold him tight. I shake my head.

"No."

I don't want him to stop. I want this moment to last forever. 

*

Resting the bulk of his weight on his forearms, Brayden smoothes my hair and kisses my cheek. He leaves a trail of kisses on my damp, overheated skin from my mouth, across my jaw, down my neck.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks as he leans back and looks at me.

"Better than okay." I let my hand run down his back, tracing the cord of muscles protecting his spine. "That was incredible."