Page 117 of The Treasure House

She opened the door just a sliver, so he could only see her face. “We do?”

He looked worried. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know it must hurt to be rejected twice. I just need you to know you mean a lot to me. I really care about you. And it doesn’t feel good hurting you.”

“I’m not hurt,” she told him calmly, although inside she felt anything but calm. Raging desire was clashing with simple rage. The look on his face brought back humiliating memories of that day on the beach after Sylvie’s wedding.

Well, she wasn’t that naïve kid anymore. She wasn’t a child throwing herself at an inappropriate crush. She was Marly, and he was Freddie, and this was this. Lust. And lust could be slaked and satisfied. And then she could move on.

“You’re not hurt?” he seemed surprised.

“No.” And then she opened the door wider, leaning against it like a starlet in one of her mom’s movie magazines.

She saw his eyes widen, his cheeks flush, heard his breath grow shallow. Freddie’s gaze ran over her slowly, lingering on all the places she wanted it to.

“Marly,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Yes?” she said, stepping back so he could come in.

He pressed his lips together. He seemed to be warring with himself out there on the landing. He was shaking his head, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

She did a slow turn, so he could look his fill, and gave him a cheeky wink over her shoulder. “Grown up enough for you?”

And that was the end of him.

“I’ll do the right thing,” the idiot said, straight afterward. They were tangled in the sheets, and she was sprawled half on top of him. She still had the button-up pajama shirt on, but it was completely unbuttoned.

“The right thing?” Marly had propped herself up. “What do you mean, the right thing?”

“We can tell our parents before I ship.”

“Tell our parents what?” She frowned at him.

“I’m a good guy,” he said fiercely. “I’m not the type to use a girl and leave her.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, confused. What had gotten into him? Marly sat up. “Wait. What do you think happened here?”

“I… despoiled you,” he said grimly.

Marly couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Oh Freddie, get over yourself.” She slid out of bed and grabbed her shorts. She was aware his gaze was trailing her every move.

“I mean it, pixie stick, consider yourself engaged.”

“How romantic,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

“Jesus, Marly. What else is a guy to do when he takes a girl’s virginity like that?” Freddie was sitting up against the headboard. He was beating himself up something fierce.

“Oh Freddie, you’re not the first,” she scoffed, annoyed.

That got him to shut up. For a minute anyway.

“What do you mean, I’m not the first?” He hauled a sheet around himself and followed her to the bathroom, where she grabbed her toothbrush and started scrubbing.

He stood there the whole time she brushed, waiting for an answer.

She spat. “You’re not the first,” she said matter-of-factly. “Or even the second. And frankly I’m a little insulted you thought I came across as virginal.” She reached out and pinched his nipple.

He yelped. “Hold on. Back up. How many have there been?”

“That’s none of your business.”