Nicole was down to her bra, her panties. They matched. Pink. He hadn’t been able to look closely, but Craig thought he’d glimpsed a little heart, or maybe a bird, sewn onto the right-hand corner of the panties. And he was pretty sure he’d glimpsed the palest bit of downy hair between the panties and the high bikini spot of her inner thigh. Her cheeks had gone from a pink that matched the underwear to a deeper shade of pink in the course of their two hours in his bed. God only knew what color his own cheeks were. He was bathed in sweat. His hair was matted against his forehead. His heart had been beating so hard for so long in every part of his body that at least he knew for certain that he had no undetected heart defects. He’d never have lived through this if he did.
Perry was at home in Bad Axe for the weekend, so Nicole had spent the weekend rising from and returning to Craig’s bed in their dorm room.
“No, Craig, not yet. But it feels so good. Oh my God. No, stop. O—”
It was like a refrain now to the loveliest song he’d ever heard. He would have done anything she’d said. He felt certain that if she’d have let him, he could have levitated with her in his arms and they could have made love on the ceiling. He could have unzipped his body and wrapped her in his skin. He could have buried himself in her neck and slipped into the place between her shoulder and her throat, and been soldered by passion to her forever.
But she wouldn’t let him.
“No, oh, Craig, it’s so hard to say no. I want. But, no. Please. I’m not ready. If I were, it would be you, and it would be now. But—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I know.” He breathed the words into her mouth. “I just want to press against you. Just let me hold you. Can I touch you—”
“There. Yes. Oh my God. O—”