Driving Me Mad by Lindsay Paige

him harder and run my
hands over his chest, letting them travel further and further
south. That seems to stir him into action. He rolls us. His hips
are pressed against me and I wish we were naked already. With that
in mind, I start tugging on his shirt. I really need to see him
shirtless.
    “Britt,” Trace breathes,
kissing my neck. I can’t figure out if he’s hesitating or what.
    “You asked me what I wanted
to do today,” I remind him. “I want to do this.” I pull his shirt
up and he finally helps me out so I can take it off. The sculpted
skin before me has me wondering how this man doesn’t have a lick of
athleticism in him. My fingertips trace over every inch while I try
to let it soak in that this body belongs to my boyfriend.
    “Quit staring; you’re making
me self-conscious.”
    I start laughing and Trace
grins. Self-conscious? Yeah, right.
    “Time to return the favor.”
He lies on his side and fingers the hem of my shirt which has risen
up just enough that I can feel his fingers grazing my skin. He
doesn’t try to take it off, though. My breaths shallow out when he
brushes his thumb along my hip. His eyes keep flicking from his
hand to me.
    “What are you waiting for?” I
ask, tired of waiting.
    “You.”
    I gulp. He wants me to remove
my own shirt? I’ve always had someone else remove it. It just
happened that way. For a moment, the urge to grab my wrist
overwhelms me. I remind myself that this is Trace. That scatters my
anxiety and I remove my shirt. Those hazel eyes drink me in and
then he’s on me again, taking me from slightly cold to way too warm
in seconds. His hands move over my exposed skin much like I did to
him. My head falls to the side with his open-mouthed kisses on my
chest.
    For the briefest of moments,
a sliver of panic enters my mind. This is huge and what if
neither of us live up to any expectations we may have? Trace’s
fingers have curled under the tops of my pajama bottoms.
    “Britt.”
    I look at him and gulp at the
sight of him hovering over me, about to strip me completely naked.
But then he crawls back up my body to rest his forehead against
mine while his forearms brace him on either side of my head. He
kisses me softly once. I can feel his hard length between my legs.
I wiggle my hips, wondering why he’s stopped. Maybe he felt my
momentary tension when I panicked. If that’s why, I don’t want him
to ask me about it and ruin the mood. I kiss him and slip my hand
between our bodies and underneath his pajama pants.
    There is no room for anxiety
in this bed. There is no time for second-guessing myself or
thinking about anything other than taking this next step with
Trace. The moment my fingers brush against his length, he’s kissing
me hard, my fluke forgotten completely. He’s not rushing, though.
Trace lowers his body until his head is at my hips and his fingers
are back where they were. All I can do is breathe, enjoy, and
follow his lead.
    This is a much better way to
start the morning.
     

     
    Sometimes, you just need a
lazy day in bed. That’s how Trace and I spent our day before he
took me back to campus yesterday. Now, I’m having lunch with
Rebecca who is waiting for me to spill all the dirty details about
Trace.
    “Tell me already!” she
demands.
    “One sec, Bec.” I hurry to
type my text to Trace. Today has sucked so far, most of it stemming
from my appointment with the campus counselor.
     
    Me: Question: If I
happen to need to talk about you, am I allowed to mention it to
Mrs. Rumley? Like, she has to act like she doesn’t know, right? I
don’t actually have anything to say, but I don’t want to freak out
if I happen to bring you up.
     
    Trace immediately texts me
back.
     
    Trace: Talk about
whatever you need to, Britt. Don’t worry about it.
    Me: Are you
sure?
    Trace: Yes. Enjoy
your lunch and I’ll talk to you later.
     
    With that, I put my phone
back in my purse.
    “Well? I know you slept with
him. There was no hiding your thoroughly