“What are we going to talk about?” she asked, studying me. I could tell by her expression that she expected me to bolt at any moment.
“How about how the hell you’re still a virgin at nineteen?” I said, before I could stop myself. She was just too damn beautiful to be that innocent. It made no sense to me.
She stiffened. “Who said I’m a virgin?” she asked, sounding upset.
I’d known she was a virgin from the first time I had caught her checking me out. The blush on her face had been all I needed to know. The girl was innocent. “I know a virgin when I kiss one,” I told her instead.
She relaxed again, then shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. When it was a f**king huge deal. I didn’t know nineteen-year-old virgins who looked like her. “I was in love. His name is Cain. He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first makeout session, however tame it may have been. He said he loved me and claimed I was the only one for him. Then my mom got sick. I no longer had time to go on dates and see Cain on the weekends. He needed out. He needed freedom to get that kind of relationship from someone else. So I let him go. After Cain, I didn’t have time to date anyone else.”
What the hell? She loved this dick, and he left her? “He didn’t stick by you when your mom was sick?”
She tensed up again and fiddled with her hands in her lap. “We were young. He didn’t love me. He just thought he did. Simple as that.” She was defending him. Fuck that. He needed an ass-kicking.
“You’re still young,” I told her, but I was trying to remind myself more than anything.
“I’m nineteen, Rush. I’ve taken care of my mother for three years and buried her without any help from my father. Trust me, I feel forty most days,” she said. The weariness in her voice hurt my chest. I was wanting to beat some unknown kid’s ass when this shit was my fault. My gut twisted and reminded me of how I had played a part in her pain.
I reached for her hand, because I needed to touch her somehow. “You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”
She didn’t say anything at first. The frown line in her forehead eased before she lifted her gaze from my hand on hers to my face. “Do you have a job?” she asked.
I laughed. She was changing the subject and directing the questions at me. Smart move. I squeezed her hand. “Do you believe everyone must have a job once they’re out of college?” I asked, teasing her.
She shrugged in response. I could tell that yes, she did think that. My life was something she wasn’t used to.
“When I graduated from college, I had enough money in the bank to live the rest of my life without a job, thanks to my dad. After a few weeks of doing nothing but partying, I realized I needed a life. So I began playing around with the stock market. Turns out I’m pretty damn good at it. Numbers were always my thing. I also donate financial support to Habitat for Humanity. A couple of months out of the year, I’m more hands-on, and I work on-site. Summers I take off from everything that I can and come here and relax.”
I hadn’t meant to tell her the truth—or at least all of it— but I did. It just came out of my mouth. She put me at ease. Women never put me at ease. I was always on guard for their ulterior motive. Blaire didn’t have one.
“The surprise on your face is a little insulting,” I told her. I was teasing, but it was also the truth. I didn’t like her thinking I was a spoiled brat, even though I’d been pushing that idea on her the whole time she’d been living under my roof.
“I just didn’t expect that answer,” she finally replied.
I needed distance. I could smell her again, and holy hell, she smelled good. I moved back to my side of the bed. Touching time was up.
“How old are you?” she asked.
I was surprised she didn’t already know. All she had to do was Google me. “Too old to be in this room with you and way too damn old for the thoughts I have about you,” I replied.
“I will remind you that I am nineteen. I’ll be twenty in six months. I’m not a baby,” she said. She didn’t appear nervous at all that I had just admitted to fantasizing about her.
“No, sweet Blaire, you are definitely not a baby. I’m twenty-four and jaded. My life hasn’t been normal, and because of it, I have some serious screwed-up shit. I’ve told you there are things you don’t know. Allowing myself to touch you would be wrong.” I needed her to understand that. One of us had to remember why I needed to keep my hands off her.
“I think you underestimate yourself. What I see in you is special.” Her words made the ache in my chest catch on fire. She didn’t know me. Not really. But damn, it felt good to hear her say she saw something other than the rock star’s son.
“You don’t see the real me. You don’t know what all I’ve done.” Because when she did know, moments like this would just be bittersweet memories that haunted me the rest of my life.
“Maybe,” she said, and leaned toward me. “But what little I have seen isn’t all bad. I’m beginning to think there might just be another layer to you.”
Holy hell, she needed to move back. That smell and those eyes. I started to say something but stopped myself. I wasn’t sure what to say to her. Other than that I wanted to strip her naked and make her scream my name over and over again.
Something she saw made her eyes go wide, and she moved even closer to me. “What is in your mouth?” she asked, with a touch of amazement in her voice.
I was wearing a barbell in my tongue tonight. I didn’t always wear something that could be seen, because I had outgrown the piercing, or at least I felt like that at times. Females, however, enjoyed it. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue so Little Miss Curious could see. She had already angled her head to peek inside my mouth. If I didn’t show her, she was going to climb into my lap to get closer.
“Does it hurt?” she asked in a whisper, still inching closer to me. What the hell? She was gonna get a real personal view of it when I licked her damn neck if she didn’t back up.
“No,” I replied, keeping my tongue in my mouth for fear that she was going to actually touch it and make me lose my mind.