Apart from some flirtations, I only had one real boyfriend during my teenage years, but he never kissed me as Chris does right now. He gives me no respite, no chance to think, I can only try to follow him. Where? I don’t know.
I feel his fingers venturing under my sweatshirt and my t-shirt. I’m shivering. They aren’t cold, Chris is never cold, no matter where he is, or how he’s dressed. It’s just that... I’m panicking. A little. I’m swimming in troubled waters. His kiss numbs my mind, makes me want more. What exactly? I’ve never made love before. When his nails brush my bra, I move back. He takes his lips off mine and I can finally catch my breath. His eyes darkened impressively. He doesn’t remove his fingers and, without leaving my eyes, he pulls on the thin fabric to brush the hardened
