F i f t y - t w o

He's handing me something. A blue velvet box, I reach forward but hesitate. This is not the time to be handing down presents. My hand wraps around it, and he lets go. I opened it, and it was not what I expected. Nothing shiny, and it does not look like something super expensive and is totally my style. Three golden chains, one smaller than the other with tiny stars.

"This is for you."

I'm in awe. Liam knows my tastes in jewelry now? I should say something, like thank you or something. "Thank you." Oh god. It sounds weird. I sound funny. Why am I so odd?

"Let me put one on."

"Oh no." Ok, that's rude. "I can't sleep with jewelry on."

"Right."

An awkward silence followed by even more awkward silence. Is like we're not comfortable with each other, but we were just a few minutes ago, or at least Liam was. This is confusing. I leave the box beside me and lean forward.

"I, when I used to have long hair it would get tangled in my jewelry so I took them off before bed." He's nodding, but he doesn't look convinced. "I really like them." As a last resort, I leaned and kissed his cheek, and as soon as I moved away, he turned his head and brushed his mouth against mine.

He tastes good, mint. And smells good too. I like it, I like him. I love what he's doing with his hands on my hair. God and his tongue. Good tongue action.

"Liam wait."

"No. there has been too much waiting. Now come here." He lifts me like I weigh nothing. I'm sitting astride on his lap while he's moving back to the headboard. I have no idea how he's able to do both; kiss me and move me at his will, but he's doing it.

I inhaled dee when his hand slipped into my shirt and up. No, with the headboard behind us, he can manipulate my clothes, my body to his liking. I know I look like a scared deer. I realize I am trembling. I am so frightened of this. I wanted, I want it to be perfect, but there's no such thing as excellent. We're kissing, and he's testing waters. He's moving forward and then retreating. Nails on my skin, him nipping my skin and soothing it later with kisses. I like all this, I like rough sex, but slow foreplay is something I have never tried before.

"Are we.."

"No."

"But, then what?"

"Let's just enjoy this."

No sex?

Who says no to sex?

"You have lovely breasts." He's lifting my shirt, and I'm complying by letting him, my arms up in the air as the shirt is removed, leaving me exposed. "You sunbathe naked?"

"There was a private beach," I explain. He's not looking at my face.

"I see." His fingers skim over my skin. "You have the softest skin." He starts kissing my neck while he holds me in place. Letting him do whatever he likes. His tongue closes around my nipple, and I almost shut down. My body is filled with the warmest feeling as he attacks me with his tongue. I didn't think this was going to be possible before. Before all this, I saw him as someone to dream about, but now, he's touching me. Right now, it is just our breaths, the brush of the fabric, and nothing else.

We continue to kiss until I pull back and hold his face. How can a man be this beautiful? I touch his eyebrows, brush his hair away from his forehead and run the pad of my fingers through his bottom lip. They're just too much bottled-up emotion threatening to topple over and spill. I hated to think that all this could be temporary. That is what I am most afraid of, that whatever this is will be brief, that he's going to use me and then throw me out like a used outfit. Like a worthless piece of cloth.

"Liam."

"Is ok. We can take it slow." He flips up to the side, nestling close to him. His curs tickle my jaw. But he doesn't know what I'm thinking.

"You're too good." Just like a dream.

"I am. Aren't I?"

I chuckle and kiss his neck. We lay there in silence, the white bedding covering my back as he pulls it around us, covering my nakedness. I'm not self-conscious about my body, but I am shy and coy with him, but I want him to see me, but then I feel not so ready. I wonder if he likes my body. I'm more of a compact size, and with my hair cut short, the resemblance to a twelve-year-old boy is now up to 75%.

"I'm twenty-three."

"I knew that."

"How come you like someone my age?"

"It has nothing to do with age. I wanted you since you were nineteen. Since I met you."

"Why? Why did you push me away?"

"I felt like a pedophile Dolores. You were fresh out of high school and it wasn't fair to snatch you up and stop you from experiencing your youth."

I twisted onto my side. "What you mean is that I'm old now?"

"Not exactly. There are at least fifteen years of difference between us."

"Sixteen." I did the math earlier. It surprised me a lot. For he doesn't look that old, he looks even better than a couple of years back.

"You see my point. What would your parents say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You sure?" I nod.

"Yep. My mom was twenty when she met my dad. He was forty-two." He was worried about me being younger than him. We needed to communicate more. "Back then it was less frown upon the age differences because women were expected to stay home while men worked." He nods while I talk; his hand never seems to stay still. He looks for any chance he gets to touch me. Right now is jaw. I don't mind. I like the way his eyes stare, how dark they turn when they focus on me. I almost thought they would turn completely black when my breasts were exposed. Well, he revealed them.

"I guess I won't feel as guilty anymore."

I start giggling and get a pinch on my cheek. After wrestling a little, trying to avoid being kissed, I grow tired and yawn loudly. Turing into a mewling cat, I rub my face all over his shoulder until he gets it and hugs me. His chest rumbled with laughter.