Page 18 of South Beach Bodyguards

The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re a sweet girl, do you know that? I suspect that you are sometimes underappreciated by people.”

That made me flustered. “I don’t know about that.” Unable to look at him, I just went back to my drawer, pulling out some panties and some yoga pants.

“Did I leave condoms in that dresser?” he asked.

Yes, he had. They were still there. “I found some and threw them away. They were expired.” I wasn’t sure why I lied. I just didn’t want him to think I was weird. Because I was feeling pretty weird.

But I was also a terrible liar, as bad as Ryan was. The two of us could never go Bonnie and Clyde, clearly. Ryan came over and moved in beside me. His presence was overwhelming as usual and I started to shift away but he put his hand on my waist and lightly restrained me. It only took him a second of fishing around in the drawer to find a row of condoms, which he held up.

“I can’t figure you out,” he said.

“You don’t have to.” I smiled at him. A tight-lipped repressed virgin smile, which was what I was. It seemed fitting.

“Why didn’t you just toss these or use them?”

“Because I don’t need them.”

“You can still get an STD even on the pill.”

“Oh, my God, why are we having this conversation?” I asked, mortified. “You’re not my father. Don’t worry about it.” My father had never even had this conversation with me. He had reserved that privilege for my mother, which had been a hell of a relief.

“But tell me you use condoms.” He was frowning at me. Hell, he was glaring. “Seriously. I just want to hear you tell me you’re being safe.”

“You really sound patronizing.” And I hated the way he was talking to me like I was thirteen and an idiot.

“Men lie, Isabel. Guys use girls.”

Exasperated, I figured the best way to end this conversation was to tell him the truth. “I’m a virgin, Ryan. I don’t need condoms.”

For a heartbeat, there was no reaction. His jaw worked, like he was seeking words, but couldn’t settle on any. His brows furrowed. Finally, he said, “What do you mean?”

That actually made me laugh. “What do you think it means? It means I haven’t had intercourse. Hashtag no penis inside of me.”

“But… you’re twenty-one years old.”

Suddenly I felt on more even footing. His astonishment was amusing. I didn’t go around telling people I was a virgin, but those who knew usually reacted pretty similarly, but they hid it better. Ryan looked like he’d taken a two by four to the face.

“I know how old I am.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

That gave me pause. “Thank you,” I said, touched. There was sincerity in his voice. I wasn’t beautiful. I never had been. My face was too round, my features just a little disproportionate. Like I’d told him, I had more of my father in me than my mother, and while my dad was a decent man, classically beautiful he was not. It worked on a man. On me? Not so much. I wasn’t ugly, just… unusual. “But you don’t have to be ugly to be a virgin.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it. But it’s not any of my business.”

“It’s not,” I said. Yet I felt like I needed to explain. I wanted to explain because Ryan factored into my thoughts and feelings and life over the last eighteen months. He didn’t know that and maybe I needed to let him know that, just a little. “But the truth is, I just never met the right guy. I didn’t date in high school. In college there have been a few guys but no one that I wanted to be that… intimate with. Maybe that doesn’t make sense to you, but it does to me.”

None of the guys I had dated had made me feel like Ryan did, and I knew that was ridiculous, but there it was. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not some sort of freak show.”

I also knew that was something of a lie. My lack of confidence in my attractiveness was half the reason I hadn’t had sex. I didn’t believe in my ability to please a guy, or to be uninhibited enough to enjoy it. The irony being that Ryan had said I had walked around the night before naked. Where was my inner-Julia when I had been dating Ben and had been scared to take my clothes off?

He ran his hand over his face. “Fuck, I feel like such a dirtbag.”

That startled me. “Why?”

“Because for the last eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is screwing you to within an inch of your life. I told myself there was no fucking way I could touch you. Now I know there isn’t.”

My nipples hardened. My inner thighs grew damp. Now it was my turn to be at a loss for words. He had wanted to have sex with me? That was the most awesome and amazing and unbelievable thing I’d ever heard in my whole life. Yet he was restraining himself? What nonsense was that? “Are you sure you can’t?” I asked.

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