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He gives me the smile again. “Am I here to pop your cherry?”
Oh, my god. Don’t pass out.
I nod.
“No.” He turns away from me again, this time toward my bedroom door. For a crazy, hot second, I think he’s decided that hacking his way through my bumbling ridiculousness isn’t worth the effort. I think he’s going to leave. I contemplate throwing myself in front of the door. How long can I keep him here against his will before it’s considered kidnapping in the state of Illinois?
He doesn’t leave.
“I’m just here, Claire.” He reaches for the knob and very slowly, very deliberately, turns the lock. “We’ll do whatever you feel ready for. Whatever you want.”
“I want—”
You.
This.
Whatever this is.
Whatever you want.
The rest of it gets stuck in my stupid throat, and it’s either stop talking or choke to death. Bri lost her virginity years ago. Why is this so hard for me?
Because you aren’t Bri.
Not even close.