Page 54 of A Slice of Love

He pulls back, looking at me with pinched brows. Then, his eyes widen.

“Frank, have…have you been with anyone since me?”

I’m flaming red right now, and it’s not from the orgasm I just had.

I shake my head. “Not all the way.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We can’t do this.”

“What?” I nearly cry out. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we can’t do this. We rushed it last time. We can’t rush it again.”

“We didn’t rush it. I wanted it then and I want it now.”

“Come on, Frankie. You know we rushed it. You know it wasn’t what you wanted your first time to be—a hurried romp and me splitting before our bodies even came down from the high.”

His words hit me like a bucket of cold water, reminding me that Jonas Schwartz isn’t just good at playing football.

He’s good at playing hearts.

And he played mine.

“I don’t want to rush this, Frankie. I want to savor it.”

I’m hurt by his rejection and a little embarrassed, but deep down, I know he’s right.

I always jump in heart first when it comes to him, and this time, I need to use my head. I don’t want this time with Jonas to be another thing I look back on and wish had gone differently.

I want it to be perfect.

I slide my legs off the counter, moving back to a seated position.

“You’re right.”

“I am?”

I glare at him. “I’m not repeating it.”

He smirks. “Fine. Can’t blame me for trying though.” He pecks a kiss to my forehead. “Look, not to seem like a dick or anything, but I think it’s probably best if I head home. Clearly we can’t be trusted to be alone together right now.”

“Clearly.” I laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. You should go.” I look pointedly at his still-hard dick. “You could probably go for a shower right about now.”

“A very, very cold shower.”

He tucks himself away as best he can, and I can’t help but grin at the tent in his shorts, which is still painfully obvious.

He looks down and shrugs, not ashamed of his arousal at all.

When he glances back to me, I’m surprised to find his eyes glowing with happiness.

“You’re not mad?”

“No? Should I be?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’re leaving.”

“It was my idea,” he reminds me. “Besides, I got to watch you get off. That’s going to take up the bulk of my spank bank for quite some time.”

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