Page 23 of The Best You've Ever Had

Immediately, I regret it. Not only because I’ve freaked her out, but because now I know what it feels like to touch the bare skin of her body and the way my body buzzed in response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”

“By what?Spooningme?”

“By trying to ground you. Just forget about it. I promise I won’t do it again.”

For several minutes we lay there in silence. I can’t tell if she’s fallen asleep or is staring into the darkness like I am. But to my surprise, I hear her exhale—a breath of annoyance and resignation—as she scoots back into my chest. She grabs my arm and pulls it over her shoulders. I’m frozen in shock as she wiggles deeper into me, finding the right spot to settle.

I remind myself I willnotthink about her ass being pushed up against my crotch right now. I willdefinitelynot think about that whatsoever. But to my detriment, the more I try to convince myself to not think about that, and the more she squirms against me to get comfortable, the more my dick swells in response.

“I’lltryand see if this helps, just don’t…” She pauses when she feels it. And all the blood leaves my body, well except for my dick, unfortunately.

She exhales, unimpressed, but not flinging her body away from me like I expect her to. “Well, there goes what I was about to say.”

“Sorry.” I should feel more embarrassed than I am. One half of me is mortified, while the other is happy she knows the effect she has on me. My thumb takes on a mind of its own as it strums the bare skin of her stomach. It’s a bad idea. Horrible, actually. But everything about her is captivating. Her skin is soft,and it takes every goddamn morsel of self-restraint to not let my fingers slide up her body, slip past the strap of her bra, and grab a handful of the world’s most perfect tits.

Fuck my life.I need to stop thinking about her like this. It’s not helping my boner, and it sure isn’t helping this situation. But in the silence, my thumb continues to brush back and forth. Taking in that single square inch of skin, because I’m a selfish bastard.

We lie there for so long that I think she’s fallen asleep. The steady rhythm of her breath rises and falls, quiet yet loud, in the silent room. I’m wide awake. Staring into space, tortured by breathing in her vanilla scent and knowing that there’s no chance in hell we will ever go further than this right here. And while the idea has always been off the table, suddenly it feels like I’ll be missing out. It’s like never getting to try cake—you know it tastes amazing, you know you’ll love it, but it’s just not in the cards for you. Plus, this particular cake would run you over with a car if she knew only half the dirty thoughts running rampant.

From under my arms, she suddenly flips around, facing toward me. Our knees are glued together below the comforter, our faces sharing a pillow only inches apart.

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” she asks, catching me completely off guard.

“Eighteen. During my first semester of college, to a girl I was dating.” She hums in response, but doesn’t reply. So I ask, “What about you? When’d you lose yours?”

“I was nineteen. Lost it to my English professor after I finished his class that semester. Never saw him again.”

“What?” I ask. “A professor? Why him?”

“Because sex is meaningless. It didn’t really matter who I lost it to. I kind of just wanted to get it over with.”

“Never would’ve guessed. I figured you lost it to your boyfriend Mark in our senior year of high school.”

Through the faint light of the moon peeking through the slats, I can make out her tucking her hands under her cheek on the pillow. “He wanted to, but I always kind of hated him.”

“Huh. Well, I have to disagree. I don’t think sex is meaningless.”

“It’s pretty pointless overall. Honestly, I could live without it.”

“Maybe you just haven’t been fucked by the right person yet.”

“I’ve been fucked by plenty of guys. And none of them—” She abruptly stops her sentence, squirming to get comfortable in the blankets, but I know it’s a defense mechanism. She doesn’t like being open and vulnerable, and this entire conversation is teetering on that edge.

“None of them, what?” I ask.

“You’ll use it against me. As ammunition for more of our wars.”

I hold up a hand in surrender. “I promise. I won’t. Tell me.”

“Fine. None of them have ever been able to make me come. It’s probably a me thing though. I’m sure I’m too wound up or something.”

“It’s not ayouthing. They should’ve made you coming their priority.”

She huffs a silent, disbelieving laugh. “You sure sound like you know what you’re doing, huh? It’s not that easy.”

“I’m not some porn star, but I know how to be a good sexual partner. I know how to put them first and learn what they like. And I know how you work, Lay. I could easily—” I stop myself. Unsure if she has a pocket knife tucked under her pillow if I said the rest of that sentence out loud.

“Easily what? Make me have an orgasm? Doubtful.” I can feel her eyes roll through the darkness.

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