Page 57 of Malaise
“Jesus…,” he mutters before bringing that bliss back, fusing our mouths and minds so that all I am is who we are, right now.
A groan slips free as he shifts his legs to place a knee between mine. In one swift move, he knocks my legs wider, placing his thigh down hard on the sensitive area between my legs. I rock back, desperate to deepen this state of euphoria, and moan.
Wrong move.
Carver jerks back as though I’ve slapped him, pushing up on both hands to hover over me with a look of sheer horror on his face. “I have to stop.” He backs off the bed and stands at the foot as I prop myself up on both elbows to look at him. “That… I… you’re still seventeen.”
Fuck! “So?”
“So it’s statutory rape, Meg. Even if we both consented.”
What does he mean? “What do you think the legal age is, Carver?”
He frowns. “Eighteen.”
I swallow hard, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. “It’s sixteen.”
“What?”
“Sixteen is the legal age of consent in New Zealand.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hands pushing through his hair. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah. Eighteen is the drinking age, but sixteen is consent.”
“You shouldn’t have fucking said that, Meg.” He stalls, eyeing me as though he’s hesitant still.
“You won’t break me,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Are you sure about that?” The conflict within him is almost tangible.
I shift to my hands and knees and crawl to the foot of the bed. “We don’t have to have sex. We could just… you know, kiss and stuff.”
He chuckles as though I’ve just cracked the best one-liner ever. “Babe, you groaning and writhing around under me like that?” He gestures to the obvious bulge in his jeans. “I’m a guy, Meg. It kind of calls to my primal instincts.”
I sit back on my heels with a huff, frustrated in so many ways, some of them new. My stomach flutters, my insides still abuzz after what he did. I need release. “What is it with guys and the need to go all the way or not at all?” I flick my legs out and flop onto my back, my hair billowing out around me as I do. “Maybe I just want you to touch me. Maybe I just want your hands on me, not necessarily in me?”
Long, unnerving silence.
I push up on my elbows again to see what he’s doing, and my breath hitches. He’s poised at the foot of the bed, hands laced behind his neck showcasing that amazing physique, and staring at me with the raw intensity of an animal waiting to devour its kill.
“Carver?” I ask shakily.
“You’ve thought about this before?”
“Well, yeah.” I return to sitting, pulling my ankles in close to my body. “Haven’t you?”
“Every fucking day.”
I duck my chin and avert my gaze to the floor. Why does that admission make me so uncomfortable?
“What is it?” He sits on the end of the bed, coaxing my face to his with a hand beneath my chin.
“Why me?”
“Why not?”
“You’re….” I stall, realising I don’t even know his true age. I’ve got a fair idea, but still. “How old are you?”