The Charlotte Chronicles by Jen Frederick

mine, I’m so glad I’ve never kissed anyone before. The shivery sensation inside me that is being generated by Nate and only him. This is the safest thrill ride I’ll ever be on, but I want so much more.
    Parting my lips, I give a silent plea for him to take my offering and lead me deeper into the heart of our connection. Right now I feel like we are standing on the periphery looking down, and I want to dive in and be subsumed by sensation. He hesitates for just a moment and then I feel it. His tongue running lightly across my bottom lip. The shivers are turning into quakes, and my body seeks purchase against his. When his tongue sweeps inside my mouth, I stroke it with my own. His barriers melt, like an icicle in winter under the heat of the midday sun.
    He’s no longer holding me a safe distance apart. His hands are in my hair, and then he’s rolling me over, pressing his long body into mine. A hard ridge in the middle of his body settles between my legs, and I clutch him even closer—my legs hitching up around his hips and over his thighs. His tongue feels huge in my mouth, and he’s licking every inch inside me as if I’m the tastiest thing he’s ever had the opportunity to savor.
    All the locker room gossip suddenly makes so much sense. Kissing is the best thing in the world. It’s more exciting than a roller coaster at the Navy Pier. It tastes better than a root beer float from The Brown Cow in Franklin Park. It feels better than sitting by the fireplace after eight hours on the slopes in Aspen. I wish I had the courage to reach down and palm him. To feel what Greta was so shocked I’d never touched before. But I’m also distracted by the way the weight of him between my legs makes me feel and how that rigid length between  his  legs is making me pulse and itch. My fingers are digging into his muscular shoulders, and my hips are moving, almost as if they are independent of the rest of my body. I’m moving and pushing and pulling against him all at the same time.
    My sudden flurry of activity causes Nathan to pull his mouth from mine and bury his face in my neck. He groans out my name, “Charlotte. God .” Then he’s pressing down against me hard, and I’m whimpering. I don’t know what I need or want right now, but I instinctively know that he can give it to me.
    “Please, Nathan,” I plead.
    “Oh, Charlotte,” he repeats as if in pain. Then with a giant sigh he pulls away from me and flops onto his back. His chest is heaving as if he’s run a very long distance, and I hear myself panting lightly. I lean forward to kiss him again, to restart all those lovely feelings, but he holds me away. “I need a moment,” he says.
    “Why?” I’m genuinely puzzled. “We don’t need to stop.”  I start to roll out of bed to find the condom wrapper that Nate had thrown aside, but a large hand on my wrist makes me pause.
    “I do.” Rolling to his side, he props himself on one elbow and pats the space right next to his body. I climb back into bed and cuddle next to him, staring up with big eyes. “I want this all to be special for both of us, Charlotte. There’s no rush.”
    His hand has burrowed its way under my T-shirt and just that action makes my breasts feel a little heavier and a little more sensitive. “But I want more now,” I say a little petulantly.
    “Me too,” he responds with a rueful laugh. “It’s just that I want to do this so right for you that when we finally do it, it will be one of the best memories of your life.”
    “It will be,” I promise, because how could it not?
    He shakes his head as if I’m not really understanding him.  “It’s your first time—no, our first time,” he corrects.
    I scrunch up my nose, remembering that he’s had other girls before me, ones with more experience who aren’t as fragile as I am. Maybe he’s afraid I won’t be very good at this and that he’ll be sorry for all the promises he felt like he had to make because he’s Nathan