CHAPTER ELEVEN
They couldn’t seem to stop kissing. And when he wasn’t kissing Peyton, Nick couldn’t seem to stop smiling. His students saw the truth right away. Their chatter made him laugh. “Mr. Kolanowski, do you have a new girlfriend?” … “He’s got an appointment with the love doctor, dude.” … “Think he’ll give us a break on that final now that he’s getting laid?”
Yeah, kids were a lot more straightforward these days.
Incredibly, there was no awkwardness in the shift from friends to lovers. Ever since that first kiss at the hospital, touching each other had come naturally. They still did all the things they used to do—binge-watch Netflix on the couch, climb the Fingers, make nachos at midnight—but they added nonstop kissing to the fun.
They’d been doing that for two weeks now, and they both knew exactly where this was going. But they were drawing it out to increase the anticipation.
“You realize that I’ve been thinking about this a lot longer than you have,” Nick grumbled one night as he adjusted his shorts over his painful bulge. They were at his house, where they’d made pancakes for dinner after earning them with a ten-mile evening run.
“Are you sure about that? Look at this.” She clambered over him to reach her purse. He seized the opportunity to smooth his hand across the curvy line of her lower back and ass. He could touch her for days and still want more. She drew out a composition notebook that had the words “Peyton’s Place—Keep Out” scrawled on the cover, then scrambled back to cuddle next to him.
“Is that your journal?”
“Yup. Circa seventh grade, I think. Listen to this.” She opened the notebook and read aloud. “The new boy at school is really cute but he hardly ever smiles. I gave him some of my Halloween candy and he just frowned at me. Now I’m kind of embarrassed because he probably thinks I like him. I should have just played it cool. How come I never know the right way to act until after? Ugh, so mortifying. I should just forget about boys for the rest of high school. Maybe in college I won’t be such a dork.”
She grinned at him. “See? You caught my eye with your brooding handsomeness back in seventh grade.”
He thought back to the moment when the bright-eyed sprite in front of him had offered those M&Ms. “I didn’t frown at you. Frowning was my natural state back then. I was transfixed. I couldn’t believe you were talking to me. I didn’t have a chance to change my expression. Also—don’t tell your journal this—but I got a spontaneous hard-on. That was the age, you know? It happened at the most awkward moments, especially around you. So have a little sympathy.”
She hooted with laughter. “Oh my God! If I’d only known. Seriously?”
“Need some proof?” He lifted his eyebrows significantly, glancing at his crotch. She bit her lip, then all of a sudden her hand was there, warm and arousing, touching him through his board shorts.
His erection swelled even harder than before.
A flush appeared on her cheeks and she ran her tongue across her lips. “So, remind me again, what are we waiting for?” She stroked the hard contours of his member. He closed his eyes and groaned softly.
“The hell if I know. Twenty-year reunion?”
She laughed. “Forget it. Let’s live for the here and now. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you never know what could happen.”
He knew what she meant—Dale. He’d come through the brain surgery just fine, but it had been such a wake-up call for everyone. He was still having trouble with his balance and didn’t know what would happen with his baseball career. On the bright side, Dale wasn’t letting this opportunity pass him by. With his shaved head and fascinating bandage—his mom had written Red Lightning on it—he attracted the attention of every girl at Everton. Apparently, it was the best thing to happen to his social life since he’d made the baseball team.
But it could have gone so differently—if not for Peyton.
Who was now stripping off her top.
His breath caught as she exposed her creamy skin and the rosy nipples topping the slight rise of her breasts. She might complain about her flat chest, but to him, she was perfect. At a hundred pounds heavier, she’d still be perfect to him. He loved her.
He dipped his head to her nipples and swirled his tongue around one, then the other—delicately, because he’d discovered how sensitive she was.
She clutched his head to her chest as she licked her. He savored every whisper and moan that escaped her lips. He could have continued lapping up her sweetness for hours, but she wriggled off his lap. While he watched, blood pounding into his cock, she undid her shorts and pushed them off her legs. Then she did the same with her pink panties, until she was naked.
All the breath left his lungs. Her slender body was all delicate curves dusted with gold. All the bits and pieces of her that he’d seen so far—while jogging or climbing or just hanging out—came together in a vision of sensual allure.
She beckoned to him with one finger. “Let’s see how fast you can run, Kolanowski,” she teased. “Race you to the bedroom.”
She dashed away.
He wanted to follow, but he was too achingly aroused by the sight of her bare ass to move. Once she’d disappeared into the hallway, he jumped into action. He stripped off his own clothes as if he were going for the get-naked Olympics.
In his bedroom, he found her stretched out on his bed in a provocative pose that would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. He sat on the bed next to her and traced the line of her body, from her shoulder to her hip. When he reached the sweet dip of her waist, she trembled and her eyes drifted to half-mast.
“You know this is it, right? The rest of our lives, right here.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said softly. “I don’t want to wait another second.”
He reached for the nightstand drawer where he kept his condoms. After he sheathed himself, he came onto the bed, braced above her, his body shaking with desire. “You’re it for me, Peyton. You know that, right? My first love, and my last.”
She nodded, arching her body to meet his. But he held her off. He wanted to make sure she was ready; he wanted this to be perfect. He touched the sweet curls between her legs, finding heat and moisture and satin-soft welcome.
“You’re it for me, too, Nick. I’m a slow learner, but once I get it, I don’t forget.” As he stroked her folds, she tilted her head back in bliss. “Oh my God, that feels so good.”
“I wonder who will be the first to orgasm,” he said wickedly as she twisted under his deliberate touch. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it’s you.”
“I’m…definitely…okay with that.” She moaned and clutched at his shoulders. Under his fingers, the little nub of her pleasure swelled and throbbed. The sensation nearly made him come all by itself. He gritted his teeth to keep back the explosion. It had been building for so long. He could wait just a little longer.
“Now!” she urged him, wrapping one long leg around his hips. “Please, Nick. I want you inside me. Please.”
No arguments from him. He eased his thick length inside her, each millimeter sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. Deeper, then deeper, until they were joined completely, two pieces of the same puzzle. She bucked against him, so close. He reached between them and found that wild heat again.
He couldn’t move, wouldn’t move, until she’d tipped over the edge. Because it would take virtually nothing for him to climax, and all he wanted was Peyton shouting his name. He flattened his palm against her softness, pressed the hot little nub, and held his breath…and then she was rocking hard against him. Her body flexed into a glorious arch and a long, ecstatic cry rang through his bedroom. And she did shout his name. With joy and gratitude.
Her climax fired him up. He drew back then plunged inside again. The hot grasp of her body was everything. It pulled him right to the edge, where he balanced for a few long, heavenly strokes. He murmured sweet words to her, telling her everything she meant to him, everything he wanted to do to her. Stalling, trying to draw it out. But all his pent-up lust couldn’t be denied for long.
With a tight groan, he gave up the fight and launched into an all-consuming orgasm. For a hot, blinding moment, all he knew was Peyton’s breath in his ear, her channel gripping him, her legs and arms wrapped around him. Sweet, sweet heaven.
Peyton took her time coming back from that incredible experience. Putting yourself together after an orgasm like that might take a while. She had to remember where she was—Nick’s bedroom—how she’d gotten there—after several wrong turns over the course of fifteen years—and who she was with—Nick Kolanowski, her soul mate.
“I love you,” she stated loudly and clearly, after lifting herself onto one elbow. He was stretched out like a rag doll—a muscular, sweaty one. His eyes were closed, his dark eyelashes resting in half-moons on his cheekbones.
“I loved you first,” he murmured, lips curving in a lazy smile.
Laughing, she lay back beside him. Sleep began to steal over her—along with a feeling of complete and utter relaxation, as if her body knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.
“I guess we both win this time.”
“And for the rest of our lives.” He pulled her closer with one strong arm. She rested her cheek against his shoulder with a sigh. “I guess I should give credit where it’s due. If not for Jack Cooper, we might not be here right now.”
She gave his shoulder a teasing nip. Now that everything was right between her and Nick—now that she knew how much she loved him—she had to make something crystal clear, once and for all.
“I’m sorry. Jack who?”