“Are you sure about this, M? We don’t have to do anything more than lie on the couch and watch TV if you want to.”

“Is that what you want?” I ask with a small voice.

“No.” He chuckles and if I’m not mistaken, blushes just a bit. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you, and I want nothing more than to make love with you, but it’s a big step, and I just want you to know that it’s okay if you’re not ready.”

I love him even more for that speech. With a renewed sense of confidence, I link his fingers with mine, toss a sassy smile over my shoulder and guide him up the stairs toward my bedroom. Once inside, he shuts and locks the door—just in case—and follows me to the bed. Keeping eye contact with him, I crawl onto the bed and, leaning back on my elbows in the most seductive pose I can come up with, I crook my finger in invitation for him to join me.

“I guess this means you’re sure,” he mutters and pulls his shoes off quickly and crawls onto the mattress with me.

“I guess so,” I whisper. My stomach is doing crazy somersaults as he leans in and kisses my cheek and then down to my neck.

“You’re so beautiful, M,” he whispers. “I’m so lucky that you’re mine.”

I smile and close my eyes as he pushes his fingers into my hair and turns my head to meet his lips. He guides me to my back and hovers over me, kissing me for what feels like forever. My hands are all over his back and arms. God, I love the feel of his body, and I suddenly want to feel him naked.

Now.

I tug the hem of his shirt up and he pulls back long enough to yank it over his head and throw it on the floor and then returns to kissing me, but now his hands are wandering all over my body.

This I’m used to. We’ve done this countless times. He even got my shirt and bra off in the back seat of his car one night after a football game before we put a stop to it.

The rain is coming down harder outside, and it’s gotten much darker. The only light is the sliver of light coming in from the streetlight on the corner. Mark’s breathing is coming faster as he pushes my sweater up and sees my bra.

“Let’s get you out of these amazing clothes,” he says and watches me closely. I nod and sit up and let him pull my sweater over my head and unclasp my bra. His fingers are shaking so it takes him a few seconds to get the hooks loose. Next, I shimmy out of my skirt and panties, and when I move to put my hands over my breasts, he tugs them away and kisses my palms gently. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you.”

I’m lost in his blue gaze. I’m too skinny and my boobs haven’t reached their full potential yet, but when he’s staring down at me with so much love, I know he’s telling me the truth.

“I love you, M,” I murmur and cup his face in my hands. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” he says and kisses me softly. I reach down for the button on his jeans and with some fumbling around and muttered curses, he manages to wiggle out of them and toss them aside and suddenly there he is in all of his glory.

“You’re damn hot, Mark Williams,” I say and watch my hand glide over his hip and that really sexy muscle there. My eyes move over to his… thing and I feel them widen in surprise. “Holy shit.”

“Is that a good holy shit or a bad holy shit?” he asks with a laugh.

“That won’t fit in me,” I say and then feel my face flush hot. Geez shut the fuck up, Meredith!

“It will,” he promises and nudges my gaze back up to his and kisses me some more. He knows I love the kissing. He lies on top of me and cradles my head in his hands and kisses me silly, nibbling my lips and nuzzling my nose with his. Just when my stomach muscles loosen, he nudges between my legs and I can feel him there.

“Oh God,” I rasp with a panic.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby.”

“I’m really nervous,” I say and bite my lip, watching his face.

“Are you still sure? Or just nervous about what it will feel like?”

“Just nervous about what it will feel like,” I respond truthfully.

“Just look at me, M. It’s just me.” He eases inside just a bit and it hurts—fuck, it hurts!— but then it doesn’t hurt so bad. “Breathe with me, Meredith.”

He takes a deep breath and I follow him, watching his eyes with all of my attention, and as we breathe together, he slips even farther inside me. His brow is breaking out in a sweat and he licks his lips nervously, and I can see that he’s just as nervous as I am.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers softly.

“I love you too.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

He links his fingers with mine and holds our hands against the bed next to my head. God, he’s so damn big. And it’s uncomfortable, but it feels really, different. Full. Our breaths are coming really fast, and then he starts to move, like he just can’t help it. His hips pull back and then push back in, slow at first and then faster.

“Oh my God, this is so fucking amazing,” he says with awe. “I’m so glad you’re my first, M.”

“Me too,” I say, happy that he’s talking. It seems awkward when we’re quiet. We talk nonstop. “I’m so happy that we waited for each other.”

“I want to be your only, baby.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s you and me, M and M, against the world.” His hips are moving faster, and I can feel my eyes fill with tears as his whole body tenses. God, I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. It’s as though we’re not just connected physically, but in every way. “Oh God, baby. I’m going to come.”

“Okay.” I caress his face with my hands. “That’s a good thing, right? Come, M.”

“Oh, shit.” His face contorts in this weird mask, like he’s in immense pain, and I can’t take my eyes off him. Wow.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that,” he replies, breathing hard.

“I’m really good,” I say and smile reassuringly. But you need to pull out because… ow.

“I love you, M.” He leans his forehead on mine gently.

“I love you too, M.”

***

One year later

I’ve never been this fucking nervous in my life. Not even that first time that Mark and I had sex. I grin as I think back on that night, and the many, many times we’ve had sex since then. My Mark is insatiable and we’ve learned so much about each other over the past year.