This Is Falling (28 page)

Nate kisses me again, this time his lips
rough against mine, and he works his body so he’s lying next to me.
His hand grazes down my neck and shoulders, and his thumb circles
each breast, pinching and pulling just long enough that I can feel
the pressure building between my legs. He moves his hand lower,
running the tips of his fingers under my waistband a few times, and
I can tell he’s testing me, making sure I’m okay with him touching
me…
there.

After his hand pauses flat, resting over my
bellybutton, I lift my hips and reach down to unbutton the top of
my pants, pulling them down with my thumbs until my legs can kick
them free completely, and Nate just watches, his eyes moving from
mine to my newly exposed hips and skin.

“Are you sure?” he asks, swallowing
loudly.

“I’m so incredibly sure,” I say, looking him
right in the eyes and holding his gaze until I know he believes me.
Without pause, Nate moves his body so it’s resting totally on mine.
His weight is immense, but the warmth of his skin against mine is
the most amazing feeling I have ever had. Something as simple as
his shoulder against mine sends shivers throughout my body.

Cupping my face in his hands, Nate kisses me
tenderly now, his elbows holding his chest up above mine. But all I
can focus on is the hardness that’s digging into my center below,
and the only barrier between us—two small layers of cotton. I
wonder if I would look like a slut if I simply ripped them
away.

Nate backs away from me, until he’s
straddling my knees, and he keeps his eyes on mine when he puts the
tips of his fingers in the top of my panties, pulling them down the
length of my legs, achingly slowly.

“Can I kiss you…here?” he asks touching his
finger to the very edge of my pubic bone, so very close to where I
desperately want him, and need him. My eyes go wide at his
question. I’ve never been kissed…
there.
And I can’t mask my
worry on my face that I won’t be…
good…down there.
“Please?”
he asks again, the most unbelievably sexy smile stretching over his
face. Dimples. I nod
yes
, and once again pull the pillow
over my eyes.

He teases me at first, kissing the inside of
each knee, and then my thighs. When I feel his hands push my legs
wider, I start to think about shutting them, but then I feel the
pressure of his tongue on my very center, and
oh my god!
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, the way he tastes me and
teases in just the right spot. Once again, my hips arch into him,
and he lets out a faint chuckle, pressing the warmth of his palm
flat against my abdomen.

When I feel his finger push into me, I pull
the pillow from my head, reaching down to grab the strands of his
hair, unable to stop the sensation taking over. I’m so full of need
and want—I have become someone else entirely. As Nate stands back
to his feet, I sit up at the edge of his bed and pull his boxers
down completely, not wanting to wait any longer. I wrap my hand
around him, and am bold enough to look. I want to know, no, I need
to know how large he is, because I’m nervous, but not so scared
that I want to stop. I. Never. Want. To. Stop.

“Let me just get something,” Nate says,
walking over to his dresser drawer and pulling out the small foil
packet. I watch as he puts the condom on, and I shift back in his
bed so my head is once again on his pillow. Nate climbs back on top
of me quickly, his hand holding himself so he can guide things to
just the right position.

“I have to ask, one more time. Are you
sure?”

“Nate, for the love of God, if you don’t have
sex with me right now, I’m going to take care of myself,” I say,
slapping a hand over my mouth I’m so shocked at my boldness.

Nate grins, and dips his head, kissing the
top of my breast with his smile and laughter. “While I also
wouldn’t mind watching
that…
I think I’d rather participate,”
he says, kissing me gently as he pushes slowly inside me.

The stretch hurts at first. My body isn’t
used to this, and I wouldn’t say my last experience was long—or
enjoyable—but I want it to be different this time. I want it to be
more, to be the way it’s supposed to be when you’re almost nineteen
and in college.

Nate is slow and tender, never pushing into
me completely. My eyes are closed tightly, and I’m sure I’m not
making a pleasant face when he runs his fingers across my cheek,
his lips brushing against the side of my face. “Are you okay?” he
whispers, his forearms, biceps, shoulders—every muscle in his body
fully flexed to hold himself back.

I say, “Yes,” with a short, fast nod, parting
my lips, taking in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold back,” I say,
cupping his face in my hands and looking deeply into his eyes. “I
just need to take things slowly. But I want this, you…all of
it.”

Nate’s eyes search mine, waiting for any hint
of reservation as he lowers himself into me again, this time moving
in deeper, until he reaches a point where he can no longer move
inside me. The sensation makes him suck in a quick breath and close
his eyes; my body ignites at the power I have over him. When he
rocks back slowly and moves forward again, my hips circle with him,
forcing him back in just as deep as he was before. “Jesus, Rowe,”
he says, his teeth biting lightly at the skin on my shoulder.

We continue to move together, our rhythm
slow, but growing with comfort every time we connect, until I
finally feel something begin to build—a pressure, the most
pleasurable pressure I’ve ever experienced. It’s almost like an
itch, and every time Nate moves back from me, I’m overcome with
this fear that if I don’t chase it—it will be lost. Need takes
over, and I have to satisfy it, so I pull my knees up on either
side of him and thrust my hips up to meet him. When I do, Nate
pushes his hands deep into my hair and looks at me for
approval.

I kiss him so hard the roughness of his
stubble scratches my lips raw as he continues to push into me
faster. I guide his hand from my face down the side of my body
until he reaches my hip and the side of my leg. When our eyes meet,
I nod yes again, begging him to be rougher with me, and he digs his
fingers into the side of my flesh, pulling my leg up into his body,
wrapping me around him completely. That feeling—the feeling of
falling—is so close, and I keep stepping over the cliff, wanting to
fall into everything, completely. I hold my breath and run my hands
down the length of his stomach, then sides and back, until I’m
pushing him into me with force, no longer able to contain the small
whimpers leaving my lips.

“Please, Nate. I need to…I don’t know, just
please. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I repeat over and over
until it’s barely audible, and my eyes are literally rolling back
in my head. My grip on him loosens, and I let my arms fall above
me—over my head—feeling every nerve ending inside me fire and pulse
and squeeze to the point of pure exhaustion. My body is covered in
a sheen of sweat as Nate continues to move into me, his hands
roaming up the sides of my body, roughly over my breasts and neck
until he finds my arms above my head. He holds them together, his
fingers woven with mine, and his strength pushing me deeper and
deeper into the mattress. I’m unable to move—not that I want to—and
I stare at his face until he finally thrusts one last time, letting
out the sexiest breath I’ve ever heard.

We’re a pile of arms and legs and chests and
bare skin, tangled in a pink Barbie sheet; I’ve never felt more
alive. My hair is damp with sweat, and Nate looks like he just
walked off the baseball field. He’s so beautiful, and I’m lost
looking at the line of muscles and tendons that begin at his neck
and run down his body to his inner thigh. My god, I can’t believe
this is my boyfriend. The thought makes me giggle inside, and
eventually I let it out.

“Hey, you know that
being scared
thing
you don’t like?” I nod, still laughing lightly. “Yeah, well, guys
don’t really like laughing after sex.”

I suck my lips in and shrug my shoulders
quickly. Oh god! I didn’t mean that. “Sorry, I was just…happy,” I
say, letting a full smile take over my face, and I bury it in the
crook of his neck to hide, my cheeks once again burning.

“Okay, well…be happy. Just don’t laugh at a
naked man. It hurts our feelings,” he says, nudging his nose
against my jaw.

“Nate, that was…
oh
. Don’t freak out,
but I’ve never fully, oh god…” I tuck my face back into him.

“Was that your first orgasm?” he teases, but
sweetly. I nod
yes
again quickly, keeping my face hidden—I’m
so goddamned embarrassed. “Wow. I’m…honored. You know what, you
laugh all you want. I feel like I just won an award. I might even
make up a T-shirt that says I gave Rowe Stanton her first
orgasm.”

“Nate! Don’t even joke…” I start, but stop
when he starts to tickle my sides, making me laugh
uncontrollably.

“Oh no. I’m doing it. And I’m making hats,
too. And…oh yeah! I’m going to make one for Ty that says ‘My
brother gave Rowe Stanton her first orgasm!’”

“Not funny!” I laugh, knowing he’s just
teasing me for fun. This is our thing; we’ve been comfortable with
each other like this since the moment we met. And my heart is
soaring knowing nothing has changed. Even though
everything
has changed.

“Hang on, I need to log onto that website,
where you can make your own shirts. I’m doing this today,” he says,
trying to sit back up before I pull him back down on top of me.

“You know what, that’s a good idea. You can
wear it when you meet my dad tomorrow. In fact, I’ll tell him you
ordered him one, too!” And…
checkmate
. Nate’s smile falls
flat; he lies down next to me, pulling the blanket up over us and
tucking me deep within his arms.

“Okay, point made. You win with the dad-move.
Now I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to look him in the
eyes after what I’ve done,” he says, and I can detect the truth
behind his joking.

“He’s going to love you. So is my mom,” I
say, squeezing him tightly before I get him with one last zinger.
“And when I tell them you gave me my first orgasm—”

“Okay! I get it!” he says, kissing me just to
shut me up.

Chapter
24

Nate

Maybe I would have been nervous anyway, but
ever since Rowe made the joke about me giving her…
that…
and
telling her father, well? I’ve been sweating a lot today, and I
haven’t taken the field at all yet. Her parents are in the stands
sitting with her. Ty sent me a text—with a picture. They look
nice.

“Hitting cleanup today, Preet,” coach yells
over the sound of the balls cracking off bats. There’s something
therapeutic about being in here, in the cages, with five or six
guys all hitting at once. The noise is constant, distracting—I
guess that’s why some people like wind chimes. I tip my helmet and
nod, then take another swing, careful to watch my shoulder and my
follow-through. It makes me smile every time.

After a really solid round, I grab my gear
and head over to the bullpen to suit up. When I’m done, I walk over
to the entrance and look to get a handle on where they’re sitting.
Rowe’s waving at me to come over, her parents standing on either
side of her, so I prop the mask up on my head and jog over, the
entire time reminding myself not to make an ass out of myself in
front of her father.

“Hey,” she says, her voice warm and perfect
and
God I want to kiss her mouth.
But I don’t, because her
father is right there, looking at me, like fathers do. And he
should. Because I am the guy—the one who
did
things to his
daughter last night.
I’m so going to fuck this up.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” I say, catching her
in an awkward hug as she leans over the wall to kiss me. We end up
in some weird half-embrace, kissing each other’s cheeks like we’re
French. I feel pretty lame, and it just gets worse when I catch her
mom chuckling.

“Nate, nice to meet you son. I’m Tom Stanton,
and this is my wife, Karen,” her dad reaches out to shake my hand.
I’m sure to grip him hard, but not too hard, and after we shake, I
feel relief that at least I passed one tiny stupid test. Only a
million more to go.

“Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming out
today.” I’m squinting a little because the morning sun is behind
them still. It’s hot for late October—and I’m already feeling the
weight of the gear.

“Pleasure’s all ours, Nate. I’m excited to
see what you can do out here. I’ve heard great things about you,”
he says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about things he’s heard
from Rowe or just baseball in general. I’m just glad he used the
word
great
, though, so I move on.

“I hope I can deliver. I’ll try to hit you a
foul ball,” I laugh, lightly and nervously, while inside I kick
myself for being such an idiot.

“Oh, that’d be exciting. Do we get to keep
those?” Rowe’s mom says, and I smile, stifling my laugh, when I
notice Rowe rolling her eyes behind her.

“Yes, ma’am. Part of the payoff for getting
hit with a ball, I suppose.” Karen just nods, and I stand there
while the rest of the conversation dives into a really
uncomfortable silence.

“Right, well, I better get back to the
bullpen. I’ve got a pitcher to warm,” I say, turning to look at
Rowe and give her a look that hopefully conveys
I’m sorry I’m
such a tool wagon.

“Pitchers are prima donnas, Nate. You walk
slowly. It’s good for them to realize they can’t throw until
someone’s there to make them look good.” I like Rowe’s dad. “We’ll
see you again for dinner, okay?”

I turn around to walk backward to answer him,
doing my best to fall somewhere between fast and slow with my walk
because, hell, I don’t want my pitchers
hating
me. “Looking
forward to it, Tom. I’ll see you at sex.”