Page 21 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Trust me. It’s a compliment.”

“Didn’t sound like one,” I argue.

He laughs again and shakes his head. “You have no idea. But you’ve made me curious. If you’re not judgmental and are open to other lifestyles, why haven’t you tried anything?”

“I guess I haven’t done any of that stuff because…”

Why are we even talking about this? I’m so embarrassed I could puke. Right now. All over his dashboard. And he’d probably get a kick out of it.

Jerk face.

“Because why?” he prods.

“I, uh…I guess I’m still brainwashed on that front.”

This is so not a normal topic of conversation.

“What do you mean?” he asks, sobering slightly.

I peek over at him. It’s his genuine curiosity that does me in. There isn’t any malice or teasing anymore. Only real, unrestrained interest. And no one has ever been interested in me before.

I bite my lip and wring my hands in my lap, refusing to look at him. Again. Not when we’re talking about my freaking sex life. Or lack thereof.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting for it to be with someone special. Which sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud. But when you’re raised to wait until marriage…I guess I don’t really know how to think any differently. Not that I’m going to wait, per se,” I ramble. “I guess I haven’t met the right guy yet.”

“Huh,” he grunts, piquing my curiosity enough to actually look over at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“We grew up very differently, Dove Walker.”

“And how did you grow up?” I challenge, crossing my arms and twisting in my seat until I’m fully facing him. Now that the attention isn’t on me, I’m all in for hearing about his past. Especially since he’s always so guarded around me. I’d be an idiot not to take advantage of his candor right now.

And even though the jerk can see right through me, he gives me a smirk. “For starters, I was raised without a dad, as we’ve already discussed.”

“I may have remembered that,” I quip. “And your mom?”

“My mom did her best, but she wasn’t really there, either.”

“Where was she?”

“Working or dating shitty guys who didn’t like the fact she had a son. She’d usually disappear for weeks on end before showing back up with an arm full of groceries and red eyes from crying after they broke up.”

I frown. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Hell, I was having sex at fourteen in my living room with no one to call me out for it or to say I was too young.”

“Fourteen?!” I squeak. My hand slaps against my mouth, and my eyes widen in shock as memories of my life at fourteen flash through my mind. “Seriously?”

He laughs, again, finding my reaction way too amusing for a guy who looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off five minutes ago. But still. At fourteen, I was in braces and only owned a sports bra so I could change in PE class. I was flat as a board. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d never even talked to a boy before, let alone was asked on a date by one.

“I didn’t even really know what sex was at fourteen,” I admit. “That’s insane, Gibbs.”

“What’s insane is that a girl like you still has her cherry.”

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