Jackie giggled into Steven's bare shoulder. He was kissing her neck, pressing heat into her skin, and the short hairs of his beard tickled her. Getting lost in the moment would've been easy, but she opened one eye. Light from the basement filtered into his room. The crack beneath his door was bright; no shadows lurked. They were alone down here.
Her fingers slid into his curly hair. It was unbelievably soft, just as his kisses were tender. He'd probably take his time today if he could, but their predicament called for speed. His arms tightened on her back, and he picked her up.
A thrill shuddered through her body. Being naked with him was like being crowned Snow Prom Queen or winning Miss Dairy Princess, only it wasn't a dream. It was actually happening.
He met her eyes as her legs locked around his waist.. He was smiling, and her heart cartwheeled. No one had ever affected her as much with a smile, but she did her best to hide it. He was cocky enough.
"You're cool with this, right?" he said, supporting her back with one arm. He snatched a condom from his dresser, and she blindly helped him put it on. "You're so light it could actually work."
She was more than ready to try this new position with him. "Steven, shut up and go."
He entered her deftly, without any of Michael's clumsiness. Her breath caught at his deeper presence inside her, but bliss cascaded across every nerve. He seemed to anticipate her every move, blurring the divide between their bodies. She grasped the back of his hair, shut her eyes against his cheek as she hurtled toward delirium. His physical awareness of her was still unnerving, still somewhat unfamiliar, but after today she might not get another chance to get used to it.
Eric, Donna, and Michael were on their way home.
Eric had called Steven fifteen minutes ago from Northbrook, less than an hour from Point Place, and Jackie's pulse had tightened at the information. The basement would become a madhouse if they found out her and Steven's secret … their really dirty and really wrong secret.
They'd spent the last six weeks sneaking around, touching each other whenever—and wherever—they could. She hadn't planned on having sex with him, to go that far. But after nearly a month of fooling around, her body ached for more. Her heart suffered from the same calamity, but he hadn't claimed any emotional connection, and neither did she.
A film of sweat formed on their skin. They'd both become slippery, and her fingers laced over the nape of his neck. The August humidity tended to gather in his room, but it didn't interfere with their intimacy. His eyes were open and focused on her face. They seemed full of appreciation, but of what kind?
"Fuck," he said, "I hate rushin' like this." His movements had grown faster. His fingers dug into her hips as pressure built up between her thighs and, unwelcomely, inside her chest.
Their friends were almost home, but he probably didn't care. He rarely had trouble finding girls to sleep with, and she was just another notch on his belt. She was supposed to be okay with that. He'd warned her he didn't do attachments.
"Jackie—crap." He adjusted his stance. His muscles visibly strained as he attempted to bring her back into his groove. "You come already?"
Droplets of sweat sparkled in his eyelashes and in his beard. She forced her gaze to the dusty suitcases against the wall. "No, I..."
