took only seconds before she melted into my embrace.
The time passed by so slowly, but it was also enjoyable, what with the company. Ronen and Lilla were some of the funniest people I’d ever met. My eyes watered, and my stomach ached by the time we decided to call it a night. I was glad to exchange phone numbers with them.
With Xanthe tucked under my arm, we shivered on the curb, waiting for a taxi. Late October in New York was a chilly time, and neither of us had brought adequate clothing. Xanthe had only a thin green corduroy jacket, and I took immense pleasure in wrapping my arms around her to lend her my body heat.
“Love you, Bro Dawg!” Ronen bellowed from inside the taxi.
“Love you, too, Bro Dawg!” Xanthe called back.
Lilla snorted with laughter.
In our own cab, I pulled Xanthe into my arms, reveling in the fact that she was relaxed and comfortable right where she was. The ride was quick. The cab dropped us off at the hotel, and she let me pay without a word of protest.
Hand in hand, we walked through the lobby to the elevators. After debating on whether we should go to my room, I decided I wanted in her space. We got out on the tenth floor.
Walking her to her room, I did not intend on leaving.
She was taking her time, looking for her room key, and when she found it, she looked up into my eyes. Excitement and trepidation swam around in those hazel pools, and I found myself drowning in her depths.
“Xanthe,” I said softly, breaking the silence woven around us.
Her smile was uncertain. “Oliver.”
The people who loved me most called me Oliver—my parents, my siblings, Trey. I adored the sound of it coming from Xanthe.
“Invite me in, Xanthe Love.”
The pulse jumped in her neck, and I had the strongest desire to press an open-mouthed kiss to it to thank it for existing.
I had no plans of having sex with her tonight. For one, I didn’t have any condoms with me. Two, I didn’t want our first time to be fueled by alcohol, providing the possibility that either of us might end up forgetting any part of the experience. Also, I wouldn’t want her to think liquid courage had prompted my actions.
She deserved better, and I would make sure she had that.
“All right,” she whispered. She slipped the key through the slot and pushed the door open, ushering me inside.
Walking into the room, I saw that my assumption about exploding luggage was only partially correct. Her desk was littered with paperwork, that tiny laptop, and books. Only a few articles of clothing sat piled in an armchair. Faintly, I detected her scent mixed with that of the hotel and cleaning detergents.
The door clicked softly shut behind me, and I turned to see her nervously standing before it, staring at something around my feet.
“Come here,” I said quietly.
Xanthe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Patiently, I waited for her to be ready. It didn’t take long. Dropping her bag to the floor, she made her way over to me, tossing her key on the desk.
When she was close enough, I pulled her into my arms. “Look at me.”
She raised her eyes to mine.
“I’d very much like to kiss you,” I told her.
By now, this was our thing—a tender game we played. Doing her part, she closed her eyes and raised her face to mine. She kept her face passive, not knowing which part would receive the attention.
Sliding my hands up her back and her neck, I cupped her face in my hands, marveling at how soft, warm, and supple her skin was. Slightly bending forward, I pressed my lips to hers, and she gasped in surprise. With her lips parted, I slipped my tongue past her teeth to taste the unique flavor that was hers alone.
When her tongue touched mine in return, passion detonated between us. Her hands crept up my chest and neck to my head, tangling into my hair. My fingers itched to do the same. Pulling down her hair, I buried my hands into that mass.
First kisses had the potential to be awful. Getting to know the feel of the other
The time passed by so slowly, but it was also enjoyable, what with the company. Ronen and Lilla were some of the funniest people I’d ever met. My eyes watered, and my stomach ached by the time we decided to call it a night. I was glad to exchange phone numbers with them.
With Xanthe tucked under my arm, we shivered on the curb, waiting for a taxi. Late October in New York was a chilly time, and neither of us had brought adequate clothing. Xanthe had only a thin green corduroy jacket, and I took immense pleasure in wrapping my arms around her to lend her my body heat.
“Love you, Bro Dawg!” Ronen bellowed from inside the taxi.
“Love you, too, Bro Dawg!” Xanthe called back.
Lilla snorted with laughter.
In our own cab, I pulled Xanthe into my arms, reveling in the fact that she was relaxed and comfortable right where she was. The ride was quick. The cab dropped us off at the hotel, and she let me pay without a word of protest.
Hand in hand, we walked through the lobby to the elevators. After debating on whether we should go to my room, I decided I wanted in her space. We got out on the tenth floor.
Walking her to her room, I did not intend on leaving.
She was taking her time, looking for her room key, and when she found it, she looked up into my eyes. Excitement and trepidation swam around in those hazel pools, and I found myself drowning in her depths.
“Xanthe,” I said softly, breaking the silence woven around us.
Her smile was uncertain. “Oliver.”
The people who loved me most called me Oliver—my parents, my siblings, Trey. I adored the sound of it coming from Xanthe.
“Invite me in, Xanthe Love.”
The pulse jumped in her neck, and I had the strongest desire to press an open-mouthed kiss to it to thank it for existing.
I had no plans of having sex with her tonight. For one, I didn’t have any condoms with me. Two, I didn’t want our first time to be fueled by alcohol, providing the possibility that either of us might end up forgetting any part of the experience. Also, I wouldn’t want her to think liquid courage had prompted my actions.
She deserved better, and I would make sure she had that.
“All right,” she whispered. She slipped the key through the slot and pushed the door open, ushering me inside.
Walking into the room, I saw that my assumption about exploding luggage was only partially correct. Her desk was littered with paperwork, that tiny laptop, and books. Only a few articles of clothing sat piled in an armchair. Faintly, I detected her scent mixed with that of the hotel and cleaning detergents.
The door clicked softly shut behind me, and I turned to see her nervously standing before it, staring at something around my feet.
“Come here,” I said quietly.
Xanthe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Patiently, I waited for her to be ready. It didn’t take long. Dropping her bag to the floor, she made her way over to me, tossing her key on the desk.
When she was close enough, I pulled her into my arms. “Look at me.”
She raised her eyes to mine.
“I’d very much like to kiss you,” I told her.
By now, this was our thing—a tender game we played. Doing her part, she closed her eyes and raised her face to mine. She kept her face passive, not knowing which part would receive the attention.
Sliding my hands up her back and her neck, I cupped her face in my hands, marveling at how soft, warm, and supple her skin was. Slightly bending forward, I pressed my lips to hers, and she gasped in surprise. With her lips parted, I slipped my tongue past her teeth to taste the unique flavor that was hers alone.
When her tongue touched mine in return, passion detonated between us. Her hands crept up my chest and neck to my head, tangling into my hair. My fingers itched to do the same. Pulling down her hair, I buried my hands into that mass.
First kisses had the potential to be awful. Getting to know the feel of the other
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