Chapter Three | second chance at first line *

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C H A P T E R   T H R E E

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C H A P T E R   T H R E E

second chance at first line

Amber was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling in confusion. The deep, rounded indent that resulted from a particularly aggressive evening of Scott and Stiles lobbing a lacrosse ball across her bedroom at one another, was mysteriously gone, the ceiling showing nothing but pristine, decidedly un-dented white paint.

"Hey," Stiles said softly, drawing her attention to where he was laying beside her, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at her, "Can I try something?"

She didn't give a verbal response but she nodded, unable to do much more than that when she was looking into the whiskey depths of his eyes.

Suddenly, he was leaning into her space. He inched closer, moving with a truly infuriating slowness, until his mouth hovered only a few inches from her own and she could feel the tip of his slightly upturned nose as it brushed lightly against hers. His eyes flicked back and forth between her own, the warm weight from his body as he leaned against her making her feel desperate, hungry for more of him, for whatever he'd be willing to give her.

She knew she'd take it without hesitation.

"Stiles?" She questioned quietly after a second passed and his face was still hovering a breath away from her own.

But then his lips were on hers.

She reached up to where his shoulders and neck met, wrapping her arms around him to tug him closer. His lips were so soft as he they moved against her own and it was everything she thought kissing him would be, and more. Gentle and longing and so achingly sweet. She felt as if she couldn't possibly get enough.

The kisses continued, remaining tender and soft for several minutes until, seemingly all of a sudden, he had trailed one of his large hands up her body to cup her breast and squeezed softly, his fingertips digging into the thick mound of flesh. She gasped into his mouth at the salaciousness of the feeling, arching up from the mattress when he kneaded his hand around her. Stiles used her parted lips as an opportunity to lick into her open mouth, deepening the kiss.

She whined softly when their tongues collided, throwing one of her legs up to wrap around him and pulling, tugging him down against her. He landed between her legs and she made another needy noise into his mouth as his weight settled between her open thighs, warmth blooming in her very core.

Their kisses slowed, easing back into something less wet and desperate but still endlessly hungry. He kissed his way across her jaw, trailing slowly down to her throat. He licked and sucked, seemingly determined to cover every inch of her neck and collarbones with biting kisses from his mouth, all while he continued squeezing and pinching at her breasts.

She sighed under the feeling of his lips on her skin, tightening her grip around the back of his neck as he worked.

When he began to kiss his way lower, she found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything that wasn't the feeling of his mouth on her body. She kept her hands at the back of his neck, holding onto him tightly as he continued the tender ministrations across her skin. Stiles traveled down further, peppering kisses across everything he passed along the way; her shirt, her chest, her ribs, her stomach-

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