Feeling like a school boy on his first date, Garrett walked Jennifer to her mother's front door, watched as she fumbled with the keys.
They were both nervous as hell. He'd seen it in her eyes, heard it in her voice while he'd driven her home. The closer they'd gotten to her mother's, the more chatty she'd become.
He should tell her goodnight and go.
The door pushed open and Jennifer stepped inside. "Do you want to come in for a drink?"
The Sahara seemed a tropical oasis compared to his dry mouth. He needed a drink. Desperately.
Garrett followed her inside, taking in the homey feel of the mismatched furniture, the wall full of photos, mostly of Jennifer at various ages, the knick-knacks cluttering every surface.
Behind him, Jennifer closed the front door. Garrett turned.
They gazes met. His heart leapt in his chest, thudding wildly, capturing his breath and leaving him lightheaded.
Like a doe in headlights, Jennifer stared, wordlessly, nervous. Her pulse hammered at her throat. Swallowing, she moistened her lips.
Garrett groaned.
He had to kiss her.
Just one little kiss. Then he'd go home.
***
Jennifer sighed in pleasure.
Dear sweet heaven, the man could kiss. Her lips, her face, her throat, her breasts.
His hands were just as talented, gliding over her skin in blissful strokes. Where had her shirt gone? Her bra? How had her skirt become bunched at her waist?
What was she doing?
She didn't do this. Didn't have sex with men she'd just met. She'd never been with anyone except Jeff. She needed to stop this. She wasn't looking for a relationship, didn't want a relationship. Jeff had cured her of that.
"Have I told you how amazing you are?"
Garrett had told her. Several times.
Which surprised her. Jeff had always complained about her body, about her lack of enthusiasm for sex, about the way she touched him. Garrett was consumed with desire, couldn't seem to not touch her, kiss her, taste her.
She pulled his T-shirt over his head, wanting to touch him the way he was touching her, wanting to taste every delicious inch of him. She fumbled at his waistband, unzipping his pants, grasping him.
He groaned, praising her touch. Not just with his words, but with his eyes, his hands, his body's reactions.
His desire was a heady aphrodisiac. Perhaps that explained why enthusiasm wasn't an issue. Not with Garrett.
She wanted him. Enthusiastically.
Enough that even though her brain kept telling her to stop, she didn't. Not when he slid her panties off and put on a condom, not when he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Not when she clung to him, her fingers digging into his taut shoulders.
He kissed her hard, his body tense with the control he exerted. "You're sure?" he breathed, staring into her eyes, his chest heaving, his heart racing next to hers.
Jennifer couldn't speak, couldn't do more than nod.
His eyes never leaving hers, Garrett pinned her against the solid wood front door and thrust inside her.
With every thrust he whispered praise into her ears, telling her how good she felt, how amazing her body was, how much he wanted her.
Her belly twisted, her thighs quivered, her head rolled back and forth and her insides melted, wave after spasmodic wave.
Hallelujah, praise Jehovah!
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