He’s cautious, returning my kiss slowly, as if afraid I’ll change my mind and bolt or leave him feeling like he took advantage of me. But this time there is no way for me to separate the boy from the past and the boy in front of me, because his mouth is the same and dang, he’s a good kisser.

He grows more confident, his arms tightening around me, his lips opening against mine, and I pay attention this time as I feel his tongue slip inside. My mind is awake as I taste him, lingering on the feel of his lips, feeling the heat between our bodies.

I move my mouth from his lips to his jaw, the stubble rough against my lips, and he exhales, closing his eyes and arching his neck. He yanks on my shorts, pulling me to my toes as he crushes me against his pelvis.

I still turn him on also.

This feeling is powerful. 

My hand comes down to his jeans, rubbing the length of his cock with my palm, and his hand follows mine. For a moment I think he will stop me, like Owen did every time I tried to take it this far, but Tiago does not. He undoes the clasp of his jeans and guides my hand inside, under his clothing to his swollen member.

I open my eyes, and my navel clenches as I wrap my fingers around him. I feel thickness of it, the length of it, and I want to see it. My body is hot with desire, and I remember this cock. 

But I forget that entirely when Tiago undoes the clasp of my jeans and slides his hand down my underwear. My hips buck, and I start to pull away, but then his fingers are between my legs, touching me in my most intimate places, and I moan because it feels so good, the delicate motion of his fingers on my clit. I cling to him, driving myself against his hand, completely forgetting that I hold his penis in my grasp.

I have not had an orgasm in months. Within moments his flicking fingers bring me over the edge. I gasp and tremble and go weak in his arms.

And then the guilt hits me.

I pull my hand from his pants and fight the urge to sit down and cry. I button my jeans and can’t meet his eyes.

It turns out I’ll go as far as the guy wants to go.

Tiago’s hands grasp my shoulders, and he holds me at arm’s length, head tilted to study my face. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I hate that I’ve stolen away his confidence also.

“Yes.” I nod. “I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, Lucia.” He sighs and then he hugs me. “I thought I’d have more control around you.”

I let him hold me and formulate my own thoughts. “I think we shouldn’t kiss.”

“Ever?” He pulls his head back and peers at my face.

“I—I’m still not sure what I feel, and—I hate to feel like—like I’m using you.” My face burns with shame as I say the words, but it’s the truth. Tiago has always known how to turn me on, how to get me off, and I wanted it right then, and I knew how to get it.

He sits down on the floor, in the mess of spilled boxes, and he pulls me down with him. “You know that I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I nod. I can’t pretend otherwise.

“Do you think you could love me?”

I don’t answer. I wish he hadn’t asked. The truth is I do love Tiago, but not the way he wants. I don’t know if I can. But I feel a lot of affection for him, and clearly attraction.

He does not speak, and I force myself to say something.

“I don’t know. I told you I’m not over Owen.” How can I love someone else when I still love him so much?

“But you feel something for me.”

“Of course I do.” I lift my eyes to his. “You were my first.”

He gives a soft smile and taps my knuckles with his. “You still are. You are the only girl to touch me that way.”

I miss Owen with a sudden fierceness. We’ve only been broken up for three months, and it wounds me that he’s no longer the last person to touch me.

But I can’t go through life putting off experiences just because I want it to be Owen, or I’ll never have sex again.

I still want it to be Owen.

Tiago watches my face. He knows me well. The person I used to be, and the person I am now. Somewhere they merged, and I can’t keep us separate anymore. I’m an open book to him. 

“Maybe you should talk to him,” he says. “Tell him how you feel.”

I let out a choking laugh. “Sure.” Write him on his mission and tell him my ex-boyfriend felt me up and it made me sad because I wanted Owen to be the one to do that. Oh, and I grabbed his cock, too. “That would go over real well.”

“Or.” Tiago shrugs. “We can just sleep together and get it over with.”

I roll my eyes and slug his shoulder. 

He grunts and rubs it. “Do you want to go home?”

“Home? You mean—” He means Arkansas. I give him a puzzled look. “Why?”

“Because of what’s happening between us.”

Do I? I shake my head. “I’m happy for this chance to talk and reconnect and put aside the hurt feelings between us.” I look up at his face. “Can you help me not do that again?”

“You’re the one who kissed me,” he says. “I wasn’t going to. Not after—”

Yesterday. Was it only yesterday? There is so much chemistry between us, and so much history, so many flesh memories.

And the memories set my blood on fire, wanting to replace the experiences of two years ago with current ones. 

I’m in trouble. 

“No kissing.” I stand up. “We have to be strong, Tiago.”

There are footsteps outside, and I turn as Martha steps into the shed. Her eyes widen as they take in the mess of spilled boxes.

“Gente!” she cries. “Que aconteceu?”

I understand every word but lack the vocabulary to explain, and I’m so grateful she didn’t walk in ten minutes earlier when her son and I were feeling each other up. I just shrug and point to Tiago. 

“Ele fez,” I say, casting the blame on him.