June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

“That wasn’t…” His eyes squeeze shut as his fingers tighten around my waist. “I lost control. Your first time is supposed to be slow and sweet, tender and kind. I took you like a fucking animal, June. I couldn’t stop, and I hate myself for it.” He blows out a breath. “Are you on the pill?” “Yes. Mom got me on a prescription a few years ago, just to be proactive.” Tears prickle my eyes. My heart aches seeing him so fractured. So conflicted and torn. I raise a hand, cupping his jaw as I brush my thumb over his bottom lip. “And I wish you wouldn’t feel that way. It was perfect.” “Don’t say that,” he rasps out. His tongue pokes out, tasting the pad of my thumb, sending shivers down my back. “Don’t allow me to believe you wanted it like that. Especially when you’re standing in my arms, dressed only in my T-shirt, still smelling like last night’s sins.” I arch into him, a whimper slipping out when he catches my thumb between his teeth. “Believe it,” I tell him. “It’s the truth.” Brant groans as his hands start to move, grazing up the back of my thighs and palming my bare bottom, our foreheads still melded together, our lips a mere whisper apart. He pulls my pelvis flush against him as he says, “Then lie to me.” Lie to him? Lie to the man who has only ever shown me truth? True strength…true meaning…true love. No. I can’t. I won’t. Biting my lip, I shake my head.