This Girl: A Novel

and kisses me, then pulls the keys from the ignition. “If my mom sees your car, she’ll know we’re back. She told me to bring you to my house if we came home early. She doesn’t want us alone at your house. Let’s sneak in through your back door and we can come get your car later.”
    I stare at her in awe. “I think I’m in love with your brain,” I say.
    We both exit the car and run toward the back of the house we parked in front of. We make our way behind the fence, then crouch down and run across three backyards until we reach mine. I take the keys out of her hands and unlock the back door. Why do I feel like I’m breaking in? It’s my house.
    “Don’t turn on the lights. She’ll know we’re back,” I say as I help her make her way through the darkened doorway.
    “I can’t see,” she says.
    I put my arm around her back and bend down, scooping her legs up with my other arm. “Allow me.”
    She throws her arms around my neck and squeals. I walk her until we’ve reached the couch and gently lay her down. I take off my jacket and slip off my shoes, then reach down until I find her. I slide my hand down the length of her legs until I reach her feet, then I remove her shoes while she slips off her jacket.
    “Anything else you need me to remove?” I whisper.
    “Uh-huh. Your shirt.”
    I immediately agree with that and pull my shirt over my head. “Why are we whispering?” I ask her.
    “I don’t know,” she whispers.
    The sound of her voice when she whispers . . . knowing she’s on her back . . . on my couch.
    The significance of the next two hours is almost more than I can handle, knowing the things that could occur between us. I recognize that, so rather than lower myself on top of her, I kneel on the floor next to the couch. As much as I want her, I want to take it at her pace tonight, not mine. I tend to be extremely impatient when it comes to her.
    I find her cheek in the dark and turn her face toward mine. When I touch her, her breath hitches. I feel it, too. I’ve touched her face countless times before, but somehow in the dark with absolutely no interruptions, it seems a hell of a lot more intimate.
    She moves her hand to the back of my neck and I press my lips lightly against hers. They’re wet and cold and perfect, but as soon as I part her lips and taste her, perfect becomes the understatement of the year.
    She responds to my kiss tentatively. We’re both slowly exploring our limits and I want to be sure I’m not taking it too fast this time. My hand remains on her cheek while we kiss, then I begin to slowly move it down her neck, trailing over her shoulder and down to her hip. Each movement I make only seems to encourage her, so I slip my hand underneath her shirt and grip her waist. I wait for any indication that she wants me to stop.
    Or go further.
    She presses her hands into my back, pulling me forward, indicating she wants me on the couch with her.
    “Lake,” I say, pulling back several inches. “I can’t. If I get on this couch with you . . .” I release a deep breath. “Just trust me. I can’t get on this couch with you.”
    She reaches down to my hand that’s still gripping her by the waist. She slides my hand up her stomach and doesn’t stop until my hand is covering the cup of her bra.
    Holy shit.
    “I want you on the couch with me, Will.”
    I immediately pull my hand away, but only because I need her shirt off. I practically yank it over her head and immediately join her on the couch. As soon as I lower myself on top of her and feel her pressed against my chest, I kiss her again and return my hand right where she put it. She smiles and wraps her legs around me as I kiss my way down her chin, straight to her neck.
    “I can feel your heartbeat right here,” I say, kissing the base of her throat. “I like it.”
    She takes my hand and slips it beneath her bra this time. “You can feel it beating right here, too.”
    I bury my face in the couch and groan. “Oh, my god, Lake.”
    I want to touch her. I want to feel all of her. I don’t know what’s stopping me. Why the hell am I so nervous?
    “Will?”
    I pull my face away from the couch, very aware that my hand is still tucked safely beneath her bra. My hand has never been happier. “You want me to slow down? I will, Lake. Just tell me.”
    She shakes her head and runs her hands down my back. “No. I want you to speed up.”
    My hesitation immediately disappears with those words. I slide my hand