“What took you so long?” I demanded when Gerard finally graced me with his presence twenty minutes later than agreed.
When we’d parted ways at the car with a fist bump, we had arranged to meet back at the treehouse in thirty minutes. Taking the fastest shower known to mankind, I scrubbed, shaved, and polished myself to perfection before climbing the rickety ladder at the bottom of our garden with two minutes to spare.
Hiding in the treehouse for the past fifteen minutes, with no sign of Gerard, had set my teeth on edge, because paranoia had started setting in. “I thought you were after having second thoughts and had scampered off.”
“No second thoughts,” he called back and then tossed a duffel bag through the opening before climbing in after it. “I had to get supplies.”
“Supplies?”
“Condoms, Rose.”
“Oh sugar!” My eyes widened and I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I totally forgot.”
“Never fear, I’ve got us covered.”
“You’re the best.”
“Question.” Kneeling on the floor of our treehouse, Gerard reached for his bag and deftly unzipped it. “Did you come through the back?”
“No.” I shook my head, watching as he withdrew a thick, fluffy duvet from his duffel bag. “My mam’s in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to risk an interrogation, so I snuck around the side of the house instead.”
“Dammit, why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered, all business, as he opened the duvet and placed it on the wooden floor of the treehouse that we spent most of our childhood playing in. Then out came another blanket. A thinner one that looked suspiciously similar to the one my mam used when she took us on picnics. “It was almost impossible to get away from them.”
“Them?”
“My mam’s there, too,” he explained, reaching for the back of his t-shirt. “Like a pair of hungry lionesses, they were.” He whipped the fabric over his head in one swift move. “Grilling me over hot coals for gossip.”
“Gossip?” I croaked out, mouth running dry when I took in the sight of his bare chest. God, he was so beautiful.
“Yeah.” Shifting into a sitting position, he reached for his runners and pulled them off one by one. “Did you hear anything about a winter ball?”
“The Tommen Winter Ball?” I asked, following his lead by cattishly removing my t-shirt.
“That’s the one.” Off went his socks. “Apparently, it’s happening next month, and I need to make sure that I put an order for a fresh flower corsage and ‘not one of those fake ones’,” he mimicked with a roll of his eyes. “Like I didn’t already know to do that.”
“I’m wearing yellow,” I told him with a dreamy sigh as I clutched my hands to my chest. “And not a mustard or a pineapple yellow. Ew, and definitely not an ochre yellow. Think Andie Anderson’s dress in How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days kind of yellow.”
“Good to know.” Reaching into the waistband of his sweatpants, he pushed them down his narrow hips. “I’ll be sure to tell the florist not to give me any fruit or condiments.”
My breath hitched in my throat at the sight of him.
He was so … big and broad and muscular.
Sucking in a steadying breath, I pushed my pajama shorts down and knelt on the duvet in my underwear. “I’m nervous.”
“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, tucking a foil wrapper into the waistband of his gray boxers before reaching up to push his hair back. “Who knew there was so many different shades of yellow.”
“No, not about the color of my corsage, Gerard.” I gestured to where he was kneeling in his boxers and then to myself. “I’m nervous about this.”
“This doesn’t have to happen,” Gerard replied in a gentle tone. “It’s okay if you want to wait.” Closing the space between us, he placed his hands on my shoulders and smiled. “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”
“But I am ready,” I reaffirmed, eyes locked on his. “I’m just … scared.”
“Me, too,” he admitted quietly.
My brows rose. “Really?”
“Really,” he replied with a small nod. “What are you scared of?”
“Of it hurting.”
“Same.”
“You are?” Frowning, I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, shivering when the heat emanating from his skin penetrated mine. “But it doesn’t hurt boys, right?”
Something flashed in his gray eyes then, a rare glimpse of vulnerability that was quickly replaced with his usual warmth. “I love you,” he said, hands moving to settle on my waist. “I’ll do whatever you want, okay? Just set the pace here, Claire-Bear, and I will follow you anywhere, okay?” He rested his forehead against mine and expelled a shaky breath. “But I meant what I said about waiting. If you want to just cuddle, then that’s what we’ll do … ”
“No.” I shook my head and pulled his big body flush against me. “I want you to be inside me.”
“Fuck.” Another pained breath escaped him. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” I hurried to say, needing him to not put the brakes on this because I was tired of stalling. I’d been sitting in the passenger seat of a stagnant car for sixteen years, and Gerard, who was in the driver’s seat, had finally found the throttle. It was everything. He was everything. “I want this, Gerard.” And then, with trembling hands, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra before casting it aside. “I want you.”
“I love you.” He tipped my chin up, gray eyes searching every inch of my face before locking on my eyes. “I always have.”
And then he kissed me.
A full body shiver racked through my body, as his lips destroyed me for every other boy to come.
Please don’t let there be more to come.
I just want him, God.
Let me keep him.
Instinctively, I slowly lowered onto my back, taking his big body with me, while his lips never stopped loving mine. The only thing separating our bodies was the fabric of our underwear, as we both ground against each other, finding an itch that I never knew that I desperately needed scratching. Well, he was scratching that itch right now. In fact, I never wanted his weight to leave my body, because I couldn’t remember a point in time where I felt this complete.
And then we started to touch each other. It was deeper. More serious. Harder. Softer. More loving. More everything. The shape of him, the feel of his skin on mine, it was too much. It was exactly what I’d been waiting my entire life for.
“It’s okay,” I whispered a little while later, when the rest of our underwear had been cast aside on the treehouse floor. “I want this.” My heart hammered in nervous anticipation when he moved into position between my thighs, with a condom sheathing his impressive ladder. I didn’t move an inch for fear of scaring him off. I needed him to not run away, because I honestly felt like I would die if this boy didn’t join his body with mine. “You’re shaking all over.”
“Well, yeah,” he croaked out, leaning in close to brush his lips against mine, “that’s what happens when you’re nervous.”
“You’re nervous?”
“I feel like I’m holding glass in my hands here, Claire.” He pulled back to look at me, body trembling worse than mine in this moment. “Of course I’m nervous.”
Something tugged at my heart then, something deeper than affection, stronger than friendship, more permanent than forever, and I pulled up on my elbows. “I love you.” Lips grazing his stubbly jaw, I nuzzled his cheek with mine and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I want it to be you.”
“I’ve only ever wanted it to be you,” he whispered, as a full body tremor racked through his big frame. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
“Do it.” Shivering in fearful anticipation, I grabbed on to his shoulders and kissed him hard. “Just go slow.”
Blowing out a shaky breath, Gerard leaned forward, rested his brow against mine, and pushed.
And then he was deep inside of me.
The initial jolt of pain that coursed through me was enough to sting my eyes with tears, but I held my nerve, too enraptured in the moment to care. Because this boy. If there was pain to experience, I wanted it to be at his hands.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I nodded through the pain, through the feel of him moving inside of me, of connecting with me in a way that no other human had before. It was overwhelming and terrifying and beautiful all at once. “Don’t stop.”
He kept his weight off me by resting his forearm on the floor beside me. His free hand moved from my face to my thigh, hitching me closer, aligning our bodies until we connected in the most basic and primal of human ways.
His eyes were clenched tight while mine were wide open, taking it all in, every inch of him. All of my senses were in overdrive. The smell of the washing powder on the duvet beneath us, the salty taste of his skin around his throat when my tongue snaked out to taste him. The delicious weight of his hips and how when they rocked deeper, the pressure grew.
Feelings were flooring me. I was drowning in him in this moment. It was incredibly overwhelming. It was like playing the lottery for sixteen years and finally winning. The feeling of euphoria and uncertainty colliding.
I couldn’t tell which one of us was shaking most. I thought it might be an equal effort because Gerard seemed as deeply affected by this moment as I was.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, cupping his neck with my hand. He looked like he was in physical pain, as he clenched his eyes shut and moved inside me. “Gerard?”
“Yeah.” Nodding, he kept his eyes closed. “Keep talking.”
“Talking?”
“Your voice …” he released a pained groan and buried his face in the curve of my neck, hips still thrusting. “I need to hear your voice.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know it’s you touching me.”
