Page 28 of Keeping The Virgin

* * *

He needsto go to work in his downtown office for the rest of the day, but after we return to his lavish duplex, he asks me what I’d like the personal chef to make for dinner. He can’t be here to eat it, he says, but he’s going to be back tonight, and I should expect him.

“And when I get back,” he says at the door on his way out, “I want you to meet me in my room.”

His meaning doesn’t register right away, but that’s only because he’s already swept me into his arms to kiss me again—soft, promising, and, yes, demanding. I’m not sure if he’ll be running hot or cold when he returns, but as he gives me a long, hot look then walks out the door, I realize that something big just happened between us.

He said to meet him in his room.

We’re going to be in his room.

He’d told me before that he needs his space, but he’s actually letting me in tonight. Is it because I almost left him today and he’s the kind of man who refuses to get left?

That has to be it, because surely he can’t be that attached to me in such a short time…

But the very idea that he might be sends an innocent flutter through me. Could it be that I’m not the only one who’s starting to fall hard and fast here?

Oh my god, is that really what I’mdoing?

I spend the rest of the day fantasizing about him, lingering over the steamed mussels with tomato and chorizo broth his personal chef serves to me on the balcony overlooking Central Park. I attempt to watch some TV, then read one of the many leather-covered novels in the massive library with streamlined bookshelves that reach the ceiling. Then, when Cage sends me a text saying that he’s going to be home in an hour, I finally step into my marble bathroom to prepare myself for the biggest night I’ve ever had.

I think this is the night I’m going to lose my virginity, and it’s to someone who’s beginning to matter way too much to me.

As I stand under the large, square rain shower head in the center of the roomy marble stall, I let the water wash over me, pelting my skin. I slather myself with apricot gel and shampoo, my breath coming faster as I run my palms down my stomach, imagining Cage’s hands on me. I think about the when, how, and where that have been haunting me since yesterday, and nerves scratch through every part of me.

When? Tonight.

How? With all the passion I saw in him this afternoon.

Where? In the bedroom he normally keeps to himself.

It’s finally happening, and my heart nearly gives out as the clock ticks closer and closer to his arrival.

I’m primping at my vanity table when I receive the text I’ve been waiting for.

I’m here.

Lust twists inside of me, and I stand from my chair, looking at myself in the vanity mirror. I see the same Karini that I always do, except that the fancy hair products Cage left for me have made my light brown hair sleek and smooth as it falls to my shoulders. My gray eyes are bright with a rising sexual fever.

I’m wearing something I chose from the walk-in closet from the selection of nightwear he bought for me, and the filmy lavender baby doll negligee doesn’t hide my curves as much as it shows them off. I can see my pink-tipped breasts through the gauzy fabric, the swerve of my waist, the shadow of hair between my legs just before the hem skims my thighs.

I’m here, he said in his text.

I’m here, too, and I’m ready.

When I finally enter his room down the long hall, I softly close the door behind me. The faint light from the floor-to-ceiling window filters over a huge white bed on a black lacquered platform. None of the high-tech entertainment equipment surrounding it grabs my attention. None of the art on the wall attracts my eye like that bed does.

It’s only when I hear Cage’s voice from the side of the room that anything else matters.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else but you all day,” he whispers. “And, goddamn, but the wait was worth it.”

I turn around, my heart stopping.

Every bit of me melting at the sight of him.

---