Free Lost (Captive Heart #1) by Carrie Aarons Page A

throbbing hard-on against the seam of her shorts and grinding there.
    “Huh! Tucker!” Char’s voice is breathy, and it spurs me to cover more territory, to feel more of her. I slide my fingers under the hem of her tank top, caressing the velvet skin of her stomach as I go up and up, hoping to God she won’t stop me before I can unfasten her—
    “Stop! Stop …” Her command is quiet but firm.
    I immediately sit up and take my hands off her. “What’s wrong?”
    Her long brown hair is mussed and so sexy, it’s hard for me to concentrate on what she’s saying.
    “I’ve never, you know … um …”
    It takes me a minute before I realize what she’s getting at. “Ohhh. You’re a virgin?”
    I can’t say it’s surprising, but the way she’s so embarrassed about it is kind of cute.
    “Yeah. I’ve never done … well, anything.”
    “Um … okay.” An awkward beat passes. “Well, do you want me to just leave then?”
    “No. I’d like you to stay.”
    In a bold move, that both impresses and turns me on more, Char reaches for my hand and pulls us both up. She starts for her house, letting us in the sliding glass door and moving toward her staircase. I’ve only been in the Morsey’s house for things like summer barbecues or the annual neighborhood Christmas party. I’ve never actually seen Char’s rooms.
    “Where are your parents?”
    “Away for the weekend.” She doesn’t elaborate.
    At the left of the stairs, she pushes open a white door and pulls me inside.
    Her room is not typical. I’ve been in teenage girls’ rooms—most of the time in their beds, but still—and Charlotte’s doesn’t look anything like their rooms. It’s done in lavender and gray, with a floral bedspread. There is a desk in the corner filled with textbooks, a laptop and Bryn Mawr pamphlets. On the other wall is a large bookcase full of, well, books. But also trophies. Dozens and dozens of them. This girl might have more trophies than me. There are no pictures with friends stuck to the mirror over her dresser. No life-size posters of the latest Hollywood heartthrob. Not even a bunch of clothes or jewelry on the floor. No, it’s all neat and … I don’t know. It feels like a hotel room.
    “Nice room.” I don’t know if I should start trying to score again or if I should wait.
    “Thank you.”
    Char steps toward me and I know it’s on; she wants to do this. But I do care about her. And I’m not such a jerk that I don’t want to make sure.
    “You’re sure you want to do this?”
    She places her palms on my chest. “Yes. I’m sure.”
    So I kiss her. I stroke my tongue against hers, twist our lips and mouths until we’re both panting. I’m so hard its almost painful, and with the way she’s writhing against me, I guess she’s ready.
    I pull off her shirt, and then my own. We keep kissing, the feel of my skin against hers making my body tense up with the need for release. I move to the bed, walking her backward and toeing out of my sneakers as I snake my hands from her waist to her boobs. God, she feels good.
    I lay her down, skating my hands back down her body before awkwardly trying to undo the button and zipper on her jeans. I get too amped up when I’m this close to getting inside a girl. I lose my cool.
    “I’ll do it,” Char whispers.
    Her hands move to her shorts, so I stand and hastily take my own off, with my boxers following. My dick stands at full-mast, hard and ready and so eager to push inside of her.
    And there is Char. Completely naked now, laid across her bed. She’s got her hands covering her tits, one leg thrown over the other to try and hide herself. Before I move to her, I grab the condom I always carry in my wallet. I’m a teenage boy, I’m hopeful but not stupid.
    “It’s okay. You don’t have to be shy.” I run my hand down her right arm and over her hand, peeling it away from her body. She moves the other and lays herself flat, giving me full access to her body.
    She’s so