Page 53 of This Thing of Ours

He tucked his free arm under his head. “Never been around a woman long enough to argue, so no, I don’t know. Do you?” He wasn’t sure why he asked that when he sure as hell didn’t what to know the answer if it was a yes.

“Um…”

He mirrored her position, getting up on an elbow. “Um’s not an answer.”

Apparently not liking his height advantage, she sat up, crisscrossing her legs. “Then the answer would be no, I’ve never had make-up sex, but…”

He didn’t like how hesitant she was acting. It raised his hackles. Deciding he’d rather be sitting, too, he scooched up, leaning his back against the headboard, crossing his legs out in front of him.

“With, um, how angry you got earlier, there’s something you need to know.”

His whole body stilled, and he held his silence, waiting for her to finish.

“And it’s best that I tell you before, rather than during,” a blush hit her cheeks, “um, sex.”

He ground his teeth, really starting to fucking hate their conversation.

She continued, staring down at her lap, totally oblivious he was hanging on to his temper by a thread. “You see, there’s a reason I’ve never had make-up sex, and it’s because, well, I’ve never hadanysex.”

It took a moment for her words to register and then another to make sure he heard her right. Did he hear her right? How could she still possibly be untouched? Not that he was fucking complaining. His dick hardened with just the thought of her only belonging to him. And that wasn’t the only part of him that swelled. His heart did, too, making his chest feel tight.

She started fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt, her head still bowed.

“Hey, look at me,” he said in a soft voice. He waited for her to meet his eyes. “You’re a virgin?”

She nodded, her blush growing deeper.

“And you thought I’d be angry about that?”

“Well, no, not angry, but I thought you might get upset if I sprung it on you while we were in the middle of things. I didn’t want a repeat performance of what happened earlier.”

He closed his eyes, feeling like an ass all over again. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t know how to process the shit going on in my head. It was a dick move, leaving you like I did, but at the time, I couldn’t see that through my anger.”

She nodded, hopefully accepting his apology. “And you really went to the gym?” She pointed to his damaged hands. “There’s not some poor guy out on the street, recovering from a beating?”

“First off, if I did beat someone up, he wouldn’t besome poor guy,he would’ve deserved it. I’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t have it coming to him. But this,” he held up his hands, “came from beating a punching bag.”

She gave him a small smirk, and he felt a wave of relief when he realized he was about to get a dose of her sass.

“Looks like the punching bag won.”

He lunged, scooping her up, and placed her on his lap. “You think that’s funny?”

She giggled. “A little.”

“You want to know what I think is funny?”

“What?”

“This.” His fingers found her sides, under her armpits.

She shrieked. “No, don’t tickle me. Please. I’m sorry. I take it back.”

He could barely make out her words through all her laughter.

“Please. I’m sorry. You won, not the punching bag. You.”

She’d managed to squirm off his lap so they both lay flat. He stopped tickling and wrapped his arms securely around her, turning serious. He buried his face in her neck and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry I left you.”

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