“You really think so?”
Every time she thought she’d gotten settled into kissing him he moved, aiming for some other place, kissing some other part of her. She wondered, briefly, if maybe he was thinking about someone else. Probably. So she arched and sighed and moaned and pressed herself against him; rutted against him; smoothed her hands over strong shoulders and lean hips and the perfect plane of his lower back; and tried to convince herself this was going to mean nothing.
Despite knowing she wasn’t made that way.
Isaac sensed a mood shift and frowned a little, but kept kissing her neck before moving up and resting his forehead against hers. He brought his hand up to rest on her neck, brushing over the skin with his thumb. He smiled a little, pressing their lips together gently. “You are so beautiful,” he said, smiling.
Summer couldn’t help it; she blushed and laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m not. You’re saying that because I’m older and I’m letting you have your way.” She trailed light fingertips over his chest and stomach, ever lower, wondering if that would distract him or if he really had noticed her — distancing. One finger snagged in the elastic of his underwear.