Four Of A Kind

She kissed me again, harder this time, and her hands found the hem of my shirt and started pulling it upward. I raised my arms to help her, and the fabric disappeared somewhere behind me. The air was cool against my skin, but Sabrina’s hands were warm as they explored my chest, tracing the lines of muscle that daily running had built.

"You work out."

"I run. A lot."

"I know. I’ve seen you." Her fingers found a scar on my side, a thin line from a fight I’d gotten into at fourteen. "Where did this come from?"

"Long story."

"We have time."

I caught her wrist and pulled her hand away from the scar. "Not tonight."

Something flickered in her eyes, acceptance mixed with curiosity, but she didn’t push. Instead she leaned back and reached for the hem of her own sweater.

"Fair enough. Your turn to look."

The sweater came off in one smooth motion, and my brain short-circuited.

Sabrina’s body was exactly as distracting as I’d spent months trying not to imagine. Her skin was pale and flawless, stretched over curves that her usual layers had done an impressive job of hiding. Her bra was black lace that did absolutely nothing to conceal what was underneath, and her breasts were full enough that they strained against the fabric with every breath she took.

"You’re staring."

"You told me to look."

"I did." She didn’t sound self-conscious about it, just amused, like she’d known exactly what effect she’d have on me and had been looking forward to watching it happen. "What do you think?"

"I think I’m going to need a minute."

"Take your time."

She sat there on my lap in her jeans and that insufficient bra, the sunset turning her skin to gold and her hair to flame, and waited for me to process the fact that this was actually happening. Sabrina Valentine, the girl who scared half the school and intimidated the other half, was half-naked in front of me and looking at me like I was something she’d been craving for years.

"Come here."

I pulled her down and kissed her again, one hand sliding up her spine to find the clasp of her bra. It took me two tries to get it open, which was embarrassing, but Sabrina just laughed against my mouth and helped me slide the straps off her shoulders.

The bra joined my shirt somewhere on the floor, and then there was nothing between us but skin.

She was warm and soft and heavier than she looked, pressing against my chest in a way that made it hard to breathe. Her breasts were perfect, full and round with pale pink peaks that hardened against my skin when I ran my hands down her back. I could feel her heartbeat racing, the first sign that her composure wasn’t as complete as she wanted me to believe.

"Isaiah."

"Yeah?"

"Stop thinking."

"I’m not thinking."

"You are. I can tell. Your whole body just went tense like you’re trying to figure out the fastest escape route."

She was right, which was annoying. I forced myself to relax, to sink back into the mattress and let her weight press me down.

"Better?"

"Better."

She kissed my jaw, my neck, the hollow of my throat. Each touch sent sparks through my nervous system, and I could feel my body responding in ways that were going to become obvious very soon if they weren’t already.

"Sabrina."

"Hmm?"

"I should probably warn you that I haven’t done this in a while."

She lifted her head to look at me, surprise flickering across her face. "How long is a while?"

"Define ’while.’"

"Are we talking months? Years?"

"Let’s just say I’ve been busy."

Something shifted in her expression, a softening that made her look younger and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her.

"We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with."

"That’s not the issue."

"Then what is?"

I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, watching her face in the fading light.

"The issue is that I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time, and that scares the hell out of me."

She smiled, small and real and devastating.

"Good. It should."

Then she was kissing me again, and her hands were working at my belt, and I decided that being scared wasn’t a good enough reason to stop something that felt this right.

My jeans came off. Her jeans came off. We ended up tangled together in the middle of her massive bed with the sunset dying outside the window and nothing between us but underwear that suddenly felt like too much fabric.

Sabrina’s body was a landscape I wanted to map with my hands and my mouth and everything I had to give. The curve of her waist. The dip of her belly button. The sharp jut of her hip bones above the waistband of her panties, which were black lace that matched the bra currently decorating her floor.

"You’re beautiful."

"I know."

"That’s supposed to be the part where you say thank you."

"Why would I thank you for stating an obvious fact?"

I laughed despite myself, and she grinned down at me with a satisfaction that made my chest hurt.

"There you are."

"What?"

"The real you. The one who laughs instead of deflecting. The one who looks at me like I’m something worth keeping."

I pulled her down and kissed her hard enough to make her gasp.

"You are worth keeping. You and your terrifying sisters and your psychotic mother and your house full of secrets. All of it."

"That’s a lot to commit to."

"I know what I’m getting into."

"Do you?"

She slid down my body until her face was level with my stomach, her breath warm against my skin. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of my boxer briefs and tugged them down slowly, watching my face the whole time like she was cataloging every reaction.

"Sabrina."

"Relax. I’m just looking."

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