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I might only have this one day—this one night in this bed with this man. If that's the case, I'm going to enjoy it entirely. So, I'm happy I have the view closest to the window.
I’m happy, but I’m still nervous. I try to lull my raging heart into calm as I drop my clothes onto the seat of a chair on my side of the bed. It's set up like a reading nook, and I wonder if Nick reads. And if so, I wonder what kind of books he reads.
Nervously, I skip to the bed and peel the covers back. I slide my legs between his sheets and nearly moan at how soft the material is against my skin. It's divine, although it’s not as soft as the bed downstairs, I think I like it more.
I position myself against the pillows propped up against his headboard and tug the blanket to my waist. Then I wait for Nick, my heart thrumming like a harp in my chest to a melody of anxious desire. I'm not drunk anymore. My head isn't spinning. My thoughts are clear and sharp. Even though I know the alcohol lingers in my veins, swirling in my blood. I am so aware of this moment, however, that I don't feel affected by it. The bathroom door clicks open, and Nick appears. My body begins to tremble violently and uncontrollably. I am so nervous, I can hardly breathe.
He crosses the room, bending to flick on the lamp on his side of the bed before he shifts to turn out the bedroom light, returning to his side. My trembling is so violent now, my teeth chatter.
Nick's eyes land on me, his brows dipping. “Are you cold?”
I nod, grateful for the lie he fed me. “Yes.”
He prowls across the room to his closet, reappearing with another blanket. It's a quilt, blue and brown and white plaid. As he throws it out over the bed, I realized it's incredibly heavy and incredibly warm. I still can't stop shivering.
“You should be warm soon,” he tells me, and I nod even though I highly doubt I'm going to stop shivering any time soon.
Nick sits on his side of the bed, legs over the side, back to me. He’s unclasping a watch from his wrist, dropping it onto his night table as I struggle not to hyperventilate.
I take that moment to do something terribly, ridiculously, horrifically humiliating. Honestly, I could die in this moment and be spared the humiliation I’m about to suffer because of my damn run-away mouth.
Because I can’t take back the words, “I’m a virgin.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
Nick
I twist to face her to see she's dropped her chin into her chest. Her hair is a dark blanket between us concealing her face, but I know—I sense her eyes are squeezed shut.
“You want to say that again?” I ask darkly, my ears are buzzing.I'm not entirely sure I heard her right.
She gives her head a tiny shake as she squeaks, “Once was enough.”
I almost smile, because she sounds innocent and cute and sweet. My blood is roaring between my ears. It's hot under my skin, and my hands fist in the blankets beside me.
“How?” I demand and realize it's a fucking stupid question. But it's one I need the answer to all the same. It doesn't make sense how this beautiful creature could possibly be untouched.
She doesn’t answer me, but I can hear the rattling of her nervous breaths as she fights to fill her lungs.
“How old are you?” I realize I haven't asked that question yet. And I have no idea. There's so much about her I don't know.
“Twenty-two,” she answers. And then she peeks between the curtain of her hair at me. “You?”
“Thirty-two.” Fuck, I'm way older than her.
“Ten years isn't so bad,” she whispers.
We're on entirely different pages here, because ten years to me feels like a fucking lot. The gap between us is no small thing. The last three years of my life aside, I’ve had women. A lot of women. I’ve done living this girl hasn’t had the chance to do yet. She's too innocent, too untouched for me. Even still, I want to be the one to corrupt her—to touch her.
The only one.
“How?” I ask again, firmer this.
She lifts her shoulder. “I don't understand what you're asking.”
“Yes, you do.”
She sucks in breath, and it trembles as she releases it. Finally, she speaks, “I just never wanted it.”
