She's a free spirit. Turns out I like that.
And I keep liking that about her until she scoots across the bench, coming dangerously close to me. "Don't sit so far away. I like smelling you."
"Smelling me? Did I forget to use deodorant this morning?"
The enchanting girl laughs.
Every time Arden does that, the sound is sweet and almost musical, and it tickles my senses in the strangest way. And every time she does that, I want to kiss her until she melts in my arms.
I can't do that, though. Chance has forced me to dig out the willpower I never knew I had, so I can resist this free-spirited angel who claims to have a filthy mind.
Willpower is awful. Why does anyone want to have it? Why do people brag about theirs? It's the worst invention in the history of the universe.
Our bench sits right under a tree covered with white flowers that give off a sweet, delicate perfume. When a breeze shivers the flowers, a few petals come loose and float down to light on Arden's hair and shoulders. She looks like an angel, smiling at me with those white petals clinging to her blonde hair.
I want to strip her naked right here, lay her across the length of the bench, and push inside her supple body. No, that won't work. I can't fit on the bench that way. But I could lift her onto my lap and let her ride me.
Tossing that fantasy into the mental rubbish bin, because I've developed a terrible case of willpower, I focus on the grassy area across from us. "It's nearly lunch. Where should we eat?"
The sexy angel leans in, her nose brushing my cheek, and inhales deeply. "Mm, you really do smell yummy."
I never use cologne, so I have no idea what she thinks she smells. Maybe the body wash I used? No, not that. What then? I don't want to know, because I'm sure the answer will cure me of this willpower disease I've contracted.
And that would be a bad thing... why?
Her nose grazes my cheek again. "I could just eat you up."
All the air in my lungs splutters out of me, and I'm fairly certain I spray saliva all over the sexy woman who's sitting much too close to me.
"Why are you fighting it?" she asks. "You want me. I want you. And you did swear you'd be the best first time I could ever have."
I swallow a groan. Why did I say that last night? What kind of moron am I? Chance hadn't issued his directive yet when I told Arden I would be the best first time she could have. Now the sneaky girl is using my own words against me.
"Forget what your brother said," Arden tells me. "He has no right to interfere in my life."
"What about Elena? She'll hate me if I---you know." Now I can't even say the words.Take your virginity. What's hard about saying that? Nothing. But I can't make the words leave my mouth. They seem to be stuck somewhere between my brain and my throat.
Arden settles a hand on my thigh and skates it up and down, her longest finger grazing my cock.
I'm not sure she even knows she's almost touching that part of me. My dick knows, and it loves the tickling sensation. My willpower thinks it's torture. I'm on the fence. Teetering. Tipping more and more in the direction of Arden.
Straighten up, Reese, or you're a dead man.
Arden slides her hand up my thigh, over my hip, and all the way up to my chest. Her lips flutter over my earlobe when she whispers, "For nine months, I slept in a strange house with somebody else's kids down the hall, and I didn't even have my vibrators. I had nothing to do at night except listen to the parents getting it on in their room. The noises they made, all those little grunts and gasps and moans, it made me wonder why the hell I'm still a virgin. I had to give myself a happy ending every night, manually. My right hand developed a permanent cramp."
Naturally, my mind shows me a fantasy of her doing that.
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask. And why does my voice sound rough, like I've swallowed a mouthful of sandpaper? I'm having trouble breathing, and my cock is straining to get out of my trousers.
"I'm telling you," she says, in the sexiest whisper I've ever heard, "because I had decided to lose my virginity before I ever met you. But now that I have met you, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather let pop my cherry."
Though I've always hated that term, when she says it the words ignite a searing, irresistible need in me. I grip the bench so hard my fingers hurt, but even the pain can't douse my lust for Arden.
"Please, Reese," she purrs into my ear. "I want it to be you."
I want that too. More than want it. I hunger for her like a starved man who's been offered a sumptuous, succulent meal for the first time in months. And yes, I want to devour her.
But I seem to have this annoying, wriggling thing in my brain that makes me do the last thing on earth I want to do right now. I think that wriggling thing is called a conscience.