HIS FANTASY ** COMPLETED BOOK 1

OUR FIRST TOUCH

Pete's anticipation grew as he patiently waited for my response. The surrounding atmosphere seemed to freeze, creating a momentary stillness that heightened the tension in the air.

"I wanted to be your girl." My answer was yes, of course! I think I am ready to give in. My heart seemed to burst with love. I shouldn't have fallen for it, but he was cute.

"Hmm, I promised. I will not hurt you or cheat in our relationship, and the same as you?" Pete promised, as he also requested, and I told him.

"Yeah, you were my first love, my first boyfriend, and my first... all in all."

"Your vir...."

"Hey, stop it!" I interrupted, and I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I acknowledged the truth. It was undeniable that Pete held the title of being the first guy to ever capture my heart.

Pete's grip around me grew stronger, causing me to question his intentions. I gazed deeply into his eyes, hoping to find some clarity or explanation for his actions. However, all I saw was an unwavering and mysterious strength. I managed to wriggle out of his embrace slightly, gasping for air as I took in a desperate and trembling breath. With every ounce of energy I had left, I attempted to regain my balance and push his overwhelming weight off of me. But it was a futile effort, as my struggles only seemed to drain me further while he remained as solid as iron.

Resting on the sofa, I fixated my gaze on the ceiling, feeling a surge of poetic frustration as I tried to hold back the tears welling up in my eyes. The unexpected opportunity that presented itself left me utterly bewildered, causing me to lose all sense of self. This was an outcome that had never crossed my mind, catching me completely off guard and leaving me in a state of profound contemplation.

"If you're not going to leave now, you will be late in your game." I snapped, refusing to meet his eyes, his face hovering above mine, the beautiful features that annoyed their perfection.

Pete chuckled, the movement that caused his chest to move above mine—the pockets of his shirt rubbing the thin skin of my breasts. The friction against my n*****s caused a reaction in me, an unexpected one, and I moved slightly, trying to put a distance between us. Suddenly, I realized too much of everything: his strong arms next to my head, the smell of him. It's a combination of masculinity, sweat, and leather.

"I can stay for a while, right?" he said as he stood up, leaving me lying down. I also got up from the couch, but he turned away from me and spoke quietly in a controlled voice while expecting a response from me.

"No, you can't. I have something to do," I said.

"But I wanted to," he said and moved slightly, and I moved away from him a little. His smooth and perfect lines, his lips contrasting delicate features, and his slightly upturned nose make him appear younger, handsome but weaker. He turned to me, anger flashing in his eyes, and betrayed his unconsciousness. His eyes, similar to dark chocolate hues, penetrated his soul, and he let out a breath into a corner.

My mother is presently asleep upstairs in her room. I don't want her to see us conversing in the living room right now until it's too late. Pete had his hands in my hair, his warm breath on my cheek, and he was attempting to kiss me—his soft lips crushed against mine. I pressed his muscular chest, and suddenly he was in my mouth, softly engaging me with his tongue. My own rebellious mouth responded, and my heartbeat increased as my hands involuntarily crept upwards into his muscular arms.

His hands, tangled in my hair, gripped and released my head. His stench invaded my senses. I forgot how the kiss felt, unlike the one he experienced with me last time. I just felt the response against my tongue and felt his hot breath on my face when he undressed me and stared into my eyes. His face was both tortured and confused. I didn't like the searching look, the invasion of my soul, and I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him back down. Everything was so foreign: the feeling of heat under my hands, the smell of something other than lube, books, food, and home.

Pete had already made me experience greed with every sensation, my hands wandering everywhere, grabbing his sports shirt, hurrying to take it off, including the white sando underneath. His hands moved down, left my head, traveling hesitantly, slowly, until it reached my breasts, and brushed my n*****s, gently caressing the curvature of delicate skin. I took a deep breath and was stunned.

It was at that moment when his fingers touched that skin, a place I had never touched before—it brought me back to the present, to my reality, and suddenly I felt it coming. The desire to kill. I didn't like that. I want to continue this crazy, hot chemistry that made me wet and panting. I want, with every drop of my blood, to be normal, locked in a passionate moment with a gorgeous, strong man. But it's there, and it's getting stronger.

She took a step back and grabbed my breasts and squeezed that soft skin. He was breathing, his body stiff. He backed away, looked into my eyes. There's lust there, warmth and need, and then something flipped. A chaotic wave of indecision clouded his eyes, and he closed them tightly, his face clenched in a phrase about to suffer.

"BarrrrG!"

I'm sure Mom woke up to the sound of a flower vase suddenly falling upstairs. Pete and I were both surprised. Then his eyes opened and were filled with fear. I shoved him hard, and my eyes widened.

"Now! Get out!" I propelled him forward, gritting his teeth and squirming out from beneath him, the urgent actions that compelled him to act. He rose up immediately. He hesitated, unsure of what to do.