Practice Makes Perfect: A Novel

Isuck in a breath as Will’s hands move to wrap around my hips—his face hovering torturously in the crook of my neck and the curve of my shoulder.

He kisses me once and pulls away to look into my eyes. That dangerous rim is overcome by the black center of his eyes—darkening and spreading. His jaws clench and he swallows, taking my hand and raising it between us. He slowly slides his fingers between mine and I don’t think it’s a good thing that I already want to moan from that small contact.

His smile slants. He knows.

“I want you to feel absolutely comfortable. We go only as far as you want—and at whatever pace you want. And if at any point you want to stop, just say it and we will.” He says this while slowly unlatching one overall strap, and then the other. They fall to the floor with a satisfying thunk. The melting grin that takes over his mouth when he realizes I’m in a different pair of banana-print underwear (these bananas wear sunglasses) has my knees turning to jelly. Will holds me up—against him to be exact—and drops his mouth to my ear.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispers, his words almost muffled from how they’re pressing and nibbling against my skin.

His body is so hard and unyielding everywhere, making heat pool in all corners of my body.

“I don’t…I don’t know what I like,” I say, the words barely coming out.

“Yes, you do.” He runs his mouth against my jaw, sending shivers down my spine. He takes our interlaced hands and presses them above my head against the door. He’s making a point: You know you like this. It’s the same as the day we practiced, but different. So different because this time Will’s mouth is kissing my neck. My collarbones. He’s not holding back and I don’t want him to. “You know. Trust yourself and then tell me, Annie. It’s just me and you.”

And he’s right. I do know what I like and want, and somehow, having him trust and believe that about myself, sends a surge of confidence as well as a fresh wave of desire through me.

I decide to be brave.

I lower my hands to loop around Will’s neck. He adjusts to look into my eyes—trying to read me as always. Trying to get one step ahead. Before he can, I rise up and firmly press my mouth to his. He sucks in a sharp breath and his hands grip me tighter.

I’ve been so measured and controlled and careful my whole life, and I can’t bring myself to be that way tonight. I want to be lost for a while.

I hop up and Will catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist. His mouth explores mine in deep, hot caresses and before I know it, my back is landing gently on the mattress. I scoot up to the pillow, noticing that it smells like Will, a crisp, clean scent. He climbs over me and presses his mouth down onto mine, coaxing and so sensual I’m drunk and dazed.

“Beautiful,” he says reverently after his hands slide up my hips and ribs and peel my shirt off. He kisses my stomach, and then runs his tongue around the rim of my belly button. “And you’re so sweet.” But this time, when he says sweet, I don’t cringe. My stomach swoops because only Will can call me sweet in a way that does not feel sweet.

It doesn’t take long for us to lose every stitch of clothing. And when we are skin to skin, I should feel scared. Terrified. Instead, the tops of Will’s bare shoulders are backlit by the moon, and I study the shape of his muscles as they shift and flex. I’m relaxed and safe and joyful—and completely in awe of the way his body moves with confident ease. How his hands glide over me with tender care and expert precision. And for the rest of the night, we get lost in the sheets and Will teaches me things I never knew I needed to learn.

Time moves too quickly, and I know for the rest of my life I’ll remember this night with Will in this room. I’ll remember the flashes of his dark eyes, and his hands pressed into the mattress beside my face. His forearms flexing and our bodies together. I’ll remember the taste of sweat and the smell of body wash and the warmth of our shower somewhere around two a.m.

And at some point, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon just as tenderly as Will is kissing my shoulder, when we’re both exhausted and in desperate need of sleep, Will pulls me back against his chest, wrapping his arm tightly around my body to just hold me, and I don’t think anything could be more perfect.