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"Whoa," he said, pulling his hand out of my panties and holding them both up at me, palms out. "Okay." My hands went up, covering my face as I made a strange whimper. "Baby, hey," he said, taking my wrists and pulling my hands from my face. "It's alright. We'll stop."
I pulled my wrists from him and pushed to sit up, turning and sitting off the end of the bed, my back to him. "Sorry," I mumbled, feeling a strange cocktail of want, of need, mixed with a strong dose of fear with a embarrassment chaser.
"Don't be sorry," he said and his body slid behind me, his legs wrapping around the outsides of mine, his head coming to rest on my shoulder, his arms tight around my belly. God, why did he have to be so good? It made everything all the more confusing and complicated. Because it was easy to dislike a bad boy; it was simple to dismiss a shameless manwhore. But as much as Johnnie was those things, he was more. He had a depth I didn't let myself see before, afraid of liking the huge well of potential I would find there. "I'm not bleedin'," he said oddly.
"What?"
"Know you think you cut me. I ain't bleeding, angel. Shouldn't be sorry for saying no."
"I don't want to lead you on."
"Honey, I'll take whatever you are willing to give me and I won't be angry about not getting more."
"I'm not a tease," I said moving away to stand, facing him.
"I never said you were."
"I'm..." Oh, god, was I really going to tell him?
"Amelia, you don't need to..."
"I'm a virgin." Okay, apparently I was going to tell him.
His shoulders dropped, his mouth opening slightly, his eyes going a little wide like it was the last thing he was expecting to come out of my mouth. Which was warranted. Who the hell was a virgin in their mid-twenties besides religious freaks and really unfortunate looking people? His brows drew together as he reached out and snagged my wrist again, pulling me into the open space between his legs. "You're a virgin?" he asked, his voice an odd little whisper.
"Yes," I said, swallowing hard as his finger moved across the pulse point in my wrist.
"Aw honey," he said, giving me a sweet smile and pulling me to him as he laid back down, then rolled us onto our sides.
"I know it's weird..." I started, uncomfortable with the silence.
"Just 'cause it's not common doesn't mean it's weird," he countered, stroking my hair off my neck.
"Says the slut," I said with a teasing smile, needing to lighten the mood which felt unnervingly weighted. "When did you lose it?"
He snorted a little, giving me a grin. "Fifteen."
"Seriously?" I yelped.
"It was a Mrs. Robinson situation."
"Do I even want to ask?"
"Ms. Nafta."
"Bobby's mother?" I screeched.
"She was a babe back then. Just divorced; on the prowl."
"You were fifteen!" I objected, grossed out.
"And horny as a rabbit," he agreed with a wink.
"Gross."
His smile spread for a second as his hand landed on the side of my neck and rested there. "Angel," he started, his voice more serious than I was used to it being, but it was still almost unnervingly soft. "You've held onto this for a fuckuva long time. If you're keeping it for someone special, I understand and I respect that more than you'd know. That being said, honey, if you think you'd want to give that to me... I'd make sure it wasn't something you'd regret." He let that rest for a moment, let it settle in. "But don't mistake that for expectations. Okay?"
I wet my lips, swallowing past the lump that was suddenly lodged in my throat. "Okay."
"Okay. Now I think we should get outta bed, yeah?"
"Yeah," I agreed, pretty sure I was seconds away from crying out 'take me, take me!'. Getting out of bed was definitely a good idea.
He rolled up fast and I followed more slowly. In the living room, his phone started buzzing and he went in search of it. "Make yourself at home, darlin'," he said over his shoulder as he disappeared.
Following instructions, I went into the bathroom, splashed some cool water on my face, tried to settle my nerves. What man handled news like that the way he did? I remembered the guys I tried to date in high school and college. I remembered their reaction being something like a country salivating at the idea of sticking their flag in new soil. They wanted to be the conquering party. They wanted to go where no man had gone before. To them, that was nothing. It was a different kind of notch to have in their bedpost; it was a story to tell their boys over beers: 'Oh yeah, took her V-card. Man, she was so fucking tight!'. Can't say that was exactly the kind of attitude that prompted leg-spreading.
But the way Johnnie responded? Perfection. It didn't sound like some challenge to him. If anything, he made it sound like it was a gift, like it was something precious he would count himself lucky to receive.
How the hell was I supposed to resist that?
I sighed, turning off the light in the bathroom and walking through the apartment, Johnnie's voice a quiet, but not secretive sound coming from the living room so I felt safe enough to venture out. He gave me a small smile as he paced in front of the front windows that overlooked the street and I moved into the kitchen, finding a glass and filling it with water.
"You hungry, baby?" he asked, coming into the kitchen and I hadn't even heard him end his call. "We'll order in."
"No... I can... make something," I supplied, moving toward the fridge. It was the least I could do with him helping me with my problems. Besides, I wasn't used to take-out. There weren't many options for it back home so I always cooked my own dinner. But when I opened his fridge, all I found was a six pack of beer, a Chinese food carton, and a bottle of ketchup. "I'm guessing you don't cook," I said, closing the door and turning around to see him grinning.
