Page 49 of A Real Goode Time

“I…” I trailed off, unsure what I wanted to say.

I was so confused. I didn’t want to bethatsafe with him, not in that sense. Maybe I’d overstated my case.

Maybe I wanted him to take a chance. To push me a little.

Maybe my fear was getting in my way. Maybe I was holding on to my virginity a little too tightly. Maybe…maybe I had built it up into this…THING. The right person, the right time, the right situation. Not to mention that word I used so much: MEANINGFUL.

Maybe I should loosen up a bit. Let myself explore my own desires and just see what happens.

“I don’t mind the inappropriate comments so much,” I whispered. “And I’m…I don’t know. I’m just doing a lot of thinking.”

“Anything you want to share?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.” What a lie that was—I wanted to share a lot of things with Rhys.

Like, for example, the fact that I really wanted him.

Like, the fact that I was very much reconsidering my vow to not let anything happen with him.

What I wasnotso sure about was sharing the issue of my virginity.

I bet that would send him running for the hills.

I AM SO CONFUSED.

What do I want?

What should I do?

I had no clue.

Rhys and I took one final look around the loft then went downstairs and tossed our bags into the back of his Jeep. He locked up his shop, and we headed out on our road trip.

And I, for the first time in my life, left Connecticut.

With a man I’d met two days ago…

To whom I was seriously considering giving my virginity.

8

Rhys

Iwonder if I should tell her I’d seen her and heard her this morning?

I’m hyperaware of Torie. At all times. Every moment, even asleep, I know where she is. I can just…feel her.

So, this morning, I knew when she was sleeping, and I knew the moment she woke up. I felt her watching me.

I felt her desire. It was palpable.

For her sake, I pretended to be unaware of her attention. I also pretended to be grooving to my music when, in fact, I had it turned down low.

I heard her roll over and thought okay, fine, she’s going back to sleep. Right?

Maybe she thought she was being super quiet, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just extra observant. I don’t know that either. I just know I turned around to grab a plate for the bacon, and I saw her. She was laying on her side, knees drawn up, and the blanket was moving slightly. Rhythmically. And her breathing was…hitched. Tensed. Suppressed. Quickening, tightening. I watched her shoulders round, heard the tiniest, high-pitched whimper—Torie orgasming.

Mere feet away from me.