Page 58 of Virgin Skin

“What’s it going to be? Sushi or pizza?” He interrupts my train of thought just before it can get really good. He waves his phone at me with the pizza app open on the screen.

“Pizza this time, sushi next time.”

Piston grunts and puts our usual order in. I’ve only been living here a couple of weeks, but we have a usual order. That might say more about our need to cut back on ordering pizza than about our level of intimacy or whatever, but I’ll still take the win.

When he’s done, he leans forward to set his phone down on the coffee table and grabs the remote to restart the episode ofBuffywe didn’t finish last night.

I should probably hop in the shower while we wait for our food to get here, but I’m too comfortable. Piston’s hand rests on my foot, making absent circles with his thumb while I movemy attention between watching the show and sneakily looking at him.

“Hey, Piston?”

He huffs a laugh, and I grin again. I keep waiting for him to tell me to knock it off with the questions already, but so far it seems like they amuse him more than they annoy him. As long as I avoid the big, scary questions that will open up the box of shit we’re not going to talk about.

I weigh the one that’s on my tongue, wondering if it’s too close to the line.

Fuck it.

“Why has it been so long since you’ve hooked up with anyone?”

His thumb stops moving. He grunts again, this one a little lower in his throat.

The flake of nail polish that hits my tongue alerts me to the fact that I’m gnawing on my nails. I try to stop, but I settle for tapping my index nail against the flat surface of my tooth instead while I wait to see if he’s going to answer.

“It hasn’t beenthatlong.”

“How long?” I flex my foot in his lap to release a little of the nervous energy building in my muscles.

It’s not like it matters. I guess I’m just curious. I’m greedy for any little nugget of information I can get about Piston, any morsel of who he is underneath his sexy, tattooed biker exterior. I want to get down to his sweet, nougaty center.Yum.Wait, that’s weird. I think I’m just hungry.

He rolls his shoulders in a kind of shrug, and for a second, I think he’s going to blow off the question and shut down the conversation.

“Maybe a year.”

“Why?” If he’s going to keep answering, I’m going to keep prying, obviously. Of course, every answer unleashes a thousand more questions to add to my list.

Who was the last guy?

What’s his usual type?

How does my bumbling inexperience measure up?

“I don’t know, I guess I’m at an age where it just wasn’t working anymore.”

I frown and arch an eyebrow, pointedly pressing my heel gently into the soft swell of his cock.

“Seems like it works fine from where I’ve been sitting.”

He finally turns away from the TV to give me a dry look.

“Not my dick.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Just, you know, the whole thing. Dating is exhausting, and casual sex isn’t as exciting as it was in my twenties and thirties.” He waves his hand dismissively and looks back at the TV again. I don’t think he’s actually watching it; I think looking at me while we talk about this is too much.

I watch his throat bob as he swallows, and my eyes linger on the way the muscles in his jaw tense and relax like he’s grinding his teeth.

“That makes sense.” I drag the finger with the already chipped nail polish along the bulging vein in the back of his hand, following it until it disappears deeper beneath his skin, hidden by the ink and muscles. “It didn’t really take a whole lot of convincing to get you back to my motel room that first night though.”

His jaw ticks again and his fingers tighten on my foot. He shifts, and I can feel the bunch and flex of his muscles and the soft bulge of his cock get just a little fuller. Maybe all the sex stuff really is making me delusional and a little stupid, but I swear if he wasn’t trying to behave, reminding himself he’s not supposed to want me, he would tell me that the reason he wasn’t hard toconvince is because he wanted me as soon as I sat down on the bar stool next to his.

As much as I want to keep pushing, I can tell I’m right at the line, so I back off and turn my attention to the show for now while we wait for the pizza.

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