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I loosened another button on my jeans.
Then another.
“You what?”
Was that throaty voice even mine?
I didn’t recognize it.
I pulled my jeans down in one go and kicked them to the side. They tangled with my shirt. I was sure my white cotton panties were see-through with how wet they were.
Zach wore vulnerability like a bespoke suit, somehow complementing his high cheekbones and sharp jaw.
“I’m a virgin,” he admitted, his eyes searching mine.
For mockery.
For confusion.
For pity.
He found none of those things.
Because the truth was… all I felt was pain for him. Pain and a pang of possessiveness that rattled me.
I had no right to feel it. I’d told myself I wouldn’t get attached. But I couldn’t help it. He looked like a boy in that moment, not one of the richest, most attractive men on the planet.
I am going to take his virginity.
I am going to have something no one else has ever had—Zachary Sun.
I inched toward him, unclipping my bra behind my back with one hand. “That’s not something you should be ashamed of.”
He released a bitter chuckle. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old virgin.”
“You’re a man with a traumatic past that makes it hard to touch or feel,” I countered, guessing but also certain.
He never spoke of it in interviews, but I’d run across articles describing his father’s gruesome death—and the condition firefighters had found Zach in.
If that had been me, I’d be inconsolable.
Forever changed.
Forever damaged.
I let my bra slide off my arms. My tits swelled, full and ready to be touched. His eyes trained on the way my nipples stood on end like two diamonds.
He watched transfixed as I treaded his way.
“That thing with Eileen…” He cleared his throat. “It isn’t real. It’s an arrangement.”
“I know.”
And I still hate it, even though I have no right to.
I reached him and straddled his waist, everything bare but mypanties. My knees sank to the bench on either side of him, hovering above without touching him.
I propped a hand against the wall to keep my balance.
