Katharina

 

Jace was kissing me fiercely, his tongue moving in my mouth. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending, every cell was excited by what was happening. His touch was electric; when his hands slid down my bare arms, I could barely stop from squealing. His touch was both ticklish and tender, and I wanted him to put his hands all over my body, everywhere, to make me his, to take me.

 

Breathlessly, I pulled away. Katie, you’re being crazy, I told myself. Get a grip on things. Just because he’s cute does not mean he’ll be good to you.

 

But I couldn’t stop myself from kissing again, from pushing myself against his body and planting my lips firmly on his. It was like I’d never been kissed before, like I was starving for Jace’s love and affection. My lips were wet and I could taste him—like musk and smoke—in my mouth. Between my legs, I could feel I was getting wet, and I shifted around, feeling the moisture leak down my inner thighs. Under my skirt, I was only wearing thin panties and I could feel the material was soaked through with my arousal.

 

I moaned into Jace’s mouth as our kiss deepened. I’d never been kissed like this. Not ever. Not with Troy, not with anyone.

 

I remembered the first time Troy had kissed me…

 

We’d been dating for a week, and I’d been dying to make out with him. When I was in college, I was pretty horny, and I was jealous of all my friends who were constantly getting to hook up with new guys. I’d never had a boyfriend before, and I’d only been kissed a couple of times in high school. My father had been so protective of me that he’d never wanted to let me out of his sight, and, unfortunately, that included dating.

 

When I got to college, I was virgin. It was practically unheard of. My roommate was laughing at me before I’d even known her a week. It was one of the most embarrassing times in my life. Back in high school, most of my friends had been virgins, too. The only exception had been Becky, but she didn’t go to college. She stayed home and worked odd jobs for her dad, earning her all of my envy and a lot of my respect.

 

When I met Troy, in Freshman Comp, he intrigued me from the beginning. He wasn’t skinny, but he was thin, and he had a mass of dyed black hair that hung over his forehead. I loved the way he’d start drawing on his oversized jacket when he got bored, yet somehow he was still able to answer all of the questions that teachers lobbed at him every time.

 

The day he asked me out, I obsessed over it. I was walking out of the classroom and Troy came up to me.

 

“Hey,” he said. “Katharina, right?”

 

I blushed. I liked it when people used my full name Most of my friends called me Katie, or Kate, which I hated. “Yeah,” I said. Witty repartee, Katie. Way to go!

 

“I’m Troy,” he replied.

 

I fought the urge to tell him I knew. “That’s cool,” I said. It was the typical mundane teenage chatter, and I didn’t expect it to go on.

 

But then Troy said, “Katharina, we both have weird names.” And he smiled at me. In that moment, I thought my heart was going to fall out of my butt.

 

“I guess,” I said. “I was named after my grandmother.”

 

Troy nodded. “Wanna get some food with me sometime?”

 

“Yes,” I said, immediately. My heart started skipping and fluttering in my chest. “Call me, okay?”

 

Troy waited patiently while I scribbled down my number on a small slip of paper. He stuffed it in his pocket and walked away.

 

For three days, I didn’t hear anything from him. I was so disappointed; I’d liked him so much that I wanted him to call me that night. I figured it was a joke; when I told my roommate, she laughed.

 

“That guy is a loser, Katie,” she said. “Don’t go out with him.”

 

“I like him,” I whined. “I want him to call me.”

 

“No you don’t,” she said quickly. “You only think you like him because he asked you out.”

 

But that wasn’t it; she wasn’t right. I liked him a lot, and I’d liked him before he’d ever laid eyes on me. I even liked his weird name. It was like, a name from another century. It made him seem cool, more sophisticated than the sweaty boys who populated the rest of my class.

 

Finally, four days later, Troy called me.

 

“I hope I didn’t make you wait,” he said in a teasing voice. In retrospect, I should have put a red flag up. Troy obviously had wanted to make me sweat; he’d been sitting and watching me squirm over two days of class. But I hadn’t wanted to say anything, I hadn’t wanted to be that uncool, frazzled girl.

 

“I was fine,” I lied. “So are we going out to eat?”

 

“Wherever you want,” Troy said.

 

Later that night, he showed up at my dorm. I’d decided on an Italian restaurant in the nicer part of downtown, but Troy hadn’t dressed up. He was still wearing his baggy jeans and oversized jacket. He looked scruffy but sexy, and suddenly I felt overdressed in my black shimmery cocktail dress and heels.

 

“Hi,” I said shyly.

 

Troy didn’t talk as he drove me downtown. When he did talk, it was about himself. He talked all about what he wanted to do in college, and how he eventually wanted to work with people who had gone through domestic abuse. He wasn’t the kind of guy who seemed like that type, but I was impressed.

 

“Like a counselor?” I asked, trying to make sure I understood.

 

“No,” Troy said firmly. He kept his eyes on the wheel. “You don’t get it. Like, I want to help them train for new jobs or whatever.”

 

It still sounded like counseling to me, but I kept my mouth shut. I figured I didn’t know anything, and I should be lucky Troy was even hanging out with me.

 

The rest of dinner didn’t go very well. Troy talked about himself the whole time. He never asked me any questions, and when I volunteered information, he’d start looking bored and then he’d change the subject.

 

When I got back to my dorm room that night, I cried. I cried because I thought I was interesting and pretty, and I didn’t know why Troy didn’t like me. I cried because I’d wanted everything to go so well and it hadn’t. And most importantly, I cried because if someone like Troy didn’t like me, I didn’t think anyone would.

 

He hadn’t kissed me goodnight. All my friends, even in high school, had told me it wasn’t a real date until we kissed. So I hadn’t even gone on a real date!

 

When I whined about it to my roommate, she told me I was overreacting. “Prudish girls don’t like to kiss on the first date,” she said archly, like I should have known better. “You should have made the first move.”

 

I balked at that. Even though I didn’t consider myself conservative, there was still a part of me that wanted Troy to want me. I wanted him to be so taken with me that he couldn’t help but kiss me.

 

Over the weekend, he called me again. He was warmer this time, a little more cordial. I figured that whatever had gone down between us was likely an accident, and maybe he’d been just as nervous as I had been. After all, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities.

 

Our next date was on a Tuesday, at a coffee shop downtown. I met Troy there after class. He was having an espresso, and he ordered one for me, making fun of the way I pronounced the word. It was like all the intimacy that had built up between us over the phone evaporated. I felt like a stranger with him.

 

“I wanna kiss you,” Troy told me. “But we can’t do it in here.”

 

I frowned. I didn’t want to go outside—it was pouring, and I’d just washed my hair.

 

“Come on,” Troy urged. “Don’t be one of those fussy bitches who doesn’t want to get her hair wet. Come outside with me.”

 

I bit my lip. My hair looked great that day, and it normally took over an hour to fix. I’d taken special care of how I looked because I was going out with Troy. But I didn’t want to disappoint him, and I desperately wanted him to kiss me. So I followed him outside.

 

We were instantly drenched. Troy grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him with a surprising amount of strength for someone so slight. His breath smelled like coffee and his lips were thin, like anchovies.

 

When we kissed, it wasn’t the magic moment I’d been hoping for. There were no sparks, no fireworks. Just the odd feeling of a warm, wriggling tongue forcing itself in my mouth and going down my throat. I shuddered and tried not to gag. I’d always thought kissing would be romantic, something intimate and sexy to share. But kissing wasn’t like that; it was almost like work. Kissing Troy felt like I was auditioning for a part I wasn’t even sure if I wanted.

 

Even though I got over my nervousness when it came to kissing, Troy never warmed up to kissing me. He wound up just giving me small pecks on the face or the lips, usually when we had sex. I never again experienced that surge of romance, that thrill that made me want to keep kissing him. It was like a bad dream that kept going for years.

 

I blinked, waking back to reality. Jace was standing in front of me, looking like a Greek god in comparison with the flashback I’d just had of Troy.

 

“Come here,” I murmured. Before I could think about what I was doing, or make any more feeble attempts to stop myself, our lips were together. Jace was a great kisser. Hell, he was more than a great kisser. He was the best kisser I’d ever been with.

 

You mean the only good kisser, I thought sourly. Troy was terrible.

 

Jace’s lips met mine and I felt my knees go weak. My stomach clenched and knotted itself into a tangle. As his tongue slipped between my lips and found my own, I moaned softly. He pressed his body against mine. When I realized I could feel his hard cock pressing against me, I blushed and shivered.

 

You’re going to get more than you bargained for, I thought. He’s going to fuck you all night long.

 

I could tell Jace was amazing in bed. Just looking at his muscular frame made my mouth go dry. His black hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his dark eyes focused intently on me.

 

“So?” Jace grinned at me. “You make a decision yet?”

 

I bit my lip. “I’ll marry you,” I said softly. Oh my god, Katie, what are you doing? “And I’ll move in with you,” I added.

 

Jace nodded. He was businesslike again, all removed from the situation. “Good,” he said firmly. “I’m glad you came to your senses about this.”

 

I blinked at him. “I didn’t really have a choice,” I said, cringing at how weak my voice made me sound. “I mean, you’re right. This is for my protection, right?”

 

Jace nodded.

 

As much as I didn’t want to own up to it, part of me was thrilled at the idea of being Jace’s lover. I shivered when I looked down at his veiny, muscular hands. Compared to him, Troy seemed so puny and weak. It made me wonder how he had the strength to beat me all those times. But Jace…Jace would be different. The two men in my life were like night and day, and I had a feeling Jace was going to be an incredible lover.

 

You’re also going to be his wife. His wife. Can you believe that, Katie? I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe anything that was happening to me right now, much less getting married.

 

Part of me was almost sad. I’d always pictured having a real wedding, the kind of wedding where I could wear white and having flowers in my hair and a big bouquet. And now, that wasn’t going to happen. There wouldn’t be a reception with bad, mealy cake and a cooling buffet. There would be no chicken dance, no limbo. No electric slide.

 

Jace looked at me and I felt a flare of lust between my legs. No, you’re not going to have a real wedding, I thought. But it’s going to be one hell of a time nonetheless.