Without warning, Owen’s hands grip the back of my thighs, lifting me just enough to push me onto my back, and soon he’s above me, his knee pushed between my legs, touching me in a place I’ve never been touched. His kiss is rough and fast, yet somehow not hard enough. When his hands slide my arms up above my head, I let him guide them willingly, his kiss trailing down my neck until his lips stop at the collar of my sweatshirt. His hand trails from my arms, which I leave just as he left them over my head, and the further down my body his hand goes, the less I breathe.

The look in his eyes when his head tilts up to gaze at me is aggressive, almost like an animal, and as much as my hands want to reach down and feel the softness of his hair, I keep them in place, instead watching the dark waves fall into his eyes as he lowers his head again, his hand slowly lifting the bottom of my sweatshirt up my belly.

His lips leave small kisses over my stomach and rib cage as he slowly pulls my shirt up, revealing my skin. His thumb hooks my undershirt next, and soon I’m arching to help him lift both pieces of clothing completely up my body.

I’m terrified that he’s seeing me. I’m excited that he’s seeing me. My breathing is hard, my lips barely parted as Owen’s hand slips the thin pink strap of my bra over my shoulder, kissing my skin where the tension of the strap left a small mark. He does the same on the other side, leaving my bra over my breasts just enough to cover my nipples, which are aching for him to expose them, to feel the cold air of my room.

“You’re a virgin, right?” Owen says, his question surprising me, igniting a fire over my face and making me feel sick and fearful and wonderful all at once. His smile is soft, and he’s not making fun of me, but I’m somehow ashamed that I don’t know what to do, that I’m inexperienced.

“I am. I’m sorry,” I say, and he lowers his head with a small laugh. When he lifts to look at me again, he lowers himself, resting the weight of his body on top of mine, the heat of his skin covering me, warming me completely, and all my breasts want is the feeling of his skin against them, no more barriers in between.

“Kens, don’t apologize. It makes you beautiful. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t make any assumptions, to make sure I treat you…right,” he says, his lips kissing me softly, and then gliding down my chin and neck as he raises himself over me again. He pauses when his mouth is right between my breasts, resting his chin on the center clasp of my bra, and he looks up at me, waiting for me to tell him it’s okay to move forward.

I nod slightly, biting my lip and closing my eyes, arching my back, wanting to press into him harder. Owen’s teeth grip the clasp in the center of my bra, and I don’t know if he’s torn it open or managed to unhook it, but I feel the lacey material begin to slide open, releasing the tension over my breasts, but keeping my nipples covered. The sensation of his tongue on the curve of my breast drives the arch in my back deeper, causing the material of my bra to completely fall to the sides. The cool rush of air on my nipples leaves them feeling hungrier somehow, and I look down, my eyes meeting Owen’s, his sexy smile paused right above one of the peaks. I watch as he leans down, his eyes on mine the entire time, his tongue reaching out and taking a taste of my body, the hardness of my nipple responding with shivers across my skin.

Oh. My. God.

Owen does it again, and the reaction within me is just the same. And when he lets his tongue lave completely over my breast, pulling the pink tip in between both lips, tugging gently with his teeth, I whimper.

“Shhhhhhhh,” Owen whispers, blowing cool air over my breasts, which drives me wilder. “You…need to be quiet,” he smirks.

He’s right. I do. But holy shit do I want to scream and beg and do things that just a minute or two ago I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Owen hands me my pillow, and I pull it over my forehead, then over my mouth when his lips find my breasts once again. I let myself have a faint moan, muffled by the cotton and feathers I’m pressing over my mouth, my teeth biting the fabric—until Owen reaches up and removes the pillow, replacing it with his mouth. His lips work mine, his tongue probing deep into my mouth, his teeth grazing my bottom lip, tugging and tasting while his hand cups my breasts. When his thumbs rub over the tips, I can feel the throbbing between my legs grow even stronger, and with every pass, my hips grow bolder, until finally, I roll them into his leg, welcoming the pressure of his thigh and knee.

“You feel that, don’t you,” Owen whispers in my ear, his leg pushing into me once more.

“Ye….yes…” I stutter, my heartbeat pumping in my stomach, racing with excitement.