Page 12 of Sweet Virgin

That was a question I couldn't answer, so I shook my head no. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

That was exactly what I was trying to avoid. The past needed to stay where it was. I was on a mission to escape it all, to forget the shame and embarrassment of putting my virginity on a platter for the world to devour.

“But you do miss it?”

“I miss parts of it, not all of it.”

Kealen's thumb worked its way over the nub on my wrist, drawing small circles against my skin and sliding down over my knuckle. “What are you hiding from, Allie?” His voice was delicate, caution layering his tone.

He caught me off guard. Silence consumed me as I tried to search for an answer to a question I never saw coming.

Am I that easy to read?

Can he really tell I'm hiding?

“I don't want to talk about it.” The words came out more stern than I meant them to, but my past was off the table. I wished I could take everything I wanted to forget and throw it into a bottomless pit.

But telling my story, reliving it in words. . . That torture wasn't allowed.

Frowning, Kealen nodded, letting his eyes drift straight ahead. “Understood. Can you tell me anything about who you are? Or do I have to read between the lines and try to guess?”

Cocking my head, I eyed him under hooded lids. “Why all the questions?”

Kicking his head into his shoulder, his brows lifted high. “I like to know who I'm living with I guess. I mean, I have to make sure you're not a serial killer, so consider this formalities.”

“You realize that sounds backwards, right? Shouldn't I be wondering if you're a serial killer?”

“I'm not.”

“And I'm supposed to just believe you?”

Kealen winked, smirking a hair. “When was the last time you went swimming?”

“What?”Veering my stare, I brushed the hair from my face and let my mouth hang open.

What the hell is he talking about? How did we go from killers to swimming?

“You said you missed the ocean, but when was the last time you went in it?”

Glancing around at nothing, I let my mind bring me back to that day. That one memory I always carried with me no matter how hard things got. Stuffing my free hand into my pocket, I twirled the shell in my fingers.

“I was three.”

“Wrong.” His teeth shined as his smile widened. “Come on.”

Yanking my hand, he pulled me down onto the beach. Letting my hand go, he lumbered across the sand, straight towards the water.

Is he. . .

He is, he's heading into the water.

Tugging off his shirt and pants in one quick swoop, he dropped them to the sand and let the water crest his ankles.

His back was painted like a portrait, swirling in lines and bright colored images. Every muscle was highlighted, rolling and dancing as he stretched his arms over his head.

My eyes moved lower, watching his ass tighten in the briefs that hugged his hips. Turning to face me, I wanted to lift my eyes back up, but the shape of his cock was perfectly defined. It was taunting me with hidden bliss and unknown pleasure.

The thick muscle bulged beneath the fabric, jiggling up and down and side to side as he walked backwards. It was hard for me to think, to focus, to do anything. I was stuck in this awe of how large his cock would be if he was hard, how it would feel to have it slip between my lips and taste my walls.

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