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I still wanted to.
I didn’t know how this happened to me. For years, I hadn’t even looked in a boy’s direction. I kept my nose in my novels and my mind in my education and paved a path for myself. I had a ten-year plan. A plan that required me to graduate. For heaven’s sake, I had a vision board of my life, where I wanted to be and what I wanted out of my existence.
Nothing else mattered, though.
Not when Max took over my mind.
Have I lost my mind?
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” I whispered to myself.
I stood up from my desk, walked over to my bed, and jumped up onto it. I snuggled down beneath the covers, ready to take a nap. Maybe I was tired. Maybe sleep was what I needed. Maybe that was the secret to all of this, getting more than five hours of sleep before waking up with Max on my brain. I closed my eyes and curled up into a ball. I felt the tight jeans against my skin stretching and screaming for mercy. I felt my shirt buckling and tightening around my waist. I even felt the leather belt around my waist pinching me at my sides.
All of it reminded me of him.
“Damn it,” I murmured.
I slipped out of bed and ripped the clothes off. I tossed them to the floor and dug around in my dresser for my pajama pants. What was so wrong with my clothes, anyway? Why did he feel he had to change me? I kicked the outfit underneath my bed and pulled on my pajama pants and the baggiest sweatshirt I could find. I sighed with relief before I climbed back into bed, ready to relegate myself to a three-hour nap.
My mind still didn’t stop.
How had I fallen for a guy so quickly? Especially a guy like Max. I knew he had skeletons in his closet. I knew he was bad news. I didn’t know anything about him, or this gang he ran with. I didn’t know what they did, or what kind of trouble they got into, or what kind of life they afforded themselves. I didn’t know what Max had done in his past to warrant that stoic stare or that gruff voice. Or the scars I sometimes saw on his knuckles.
I don’t care.
The truth froze me in my tracks. I curled up into a ball and stayed like that as I squeezed my eyes shut. If I could just fall asleep, it would all go away. The thoughts. The feelings. The warmth. The truth.
The fact that I wanted to be with him still.
I mean, he made me feel alive. Cherished. Protected. Beautiful. Every time he kissed me, I felt like the only girl in the world. Being spoiled like that yesterday? I’d never had that happen before. Mom always bought my clothes and brought them home for Dad to either nod yes to or toss out the door. Max was everything my life hadn’t been. Max was everything I hadn’t yet experienced.
And I wanted all of him.
You want to have sex with him.
I growled to myself as I turned over onto my back. My eyes fell open effortlessly and I sighed with frustration. I wasn’t tired. I was distracted. And I realized that all I really wanted was to have sex with the man. I wanted to know what that felt like—with him. I wanted to feel all of those things. With him.
Max was my person.
And I wanted to give him my virginity.
Dad would have a fit.
I didn’t care, though. What used to be a threat was nothing more than an empty thought. As much as my parents talked to me about saving myself for marriage, that wasn’t what I wanted for my life. I just wanted the right person to come along so I could have a positive experience. I’d heard so many horror stories about someone’s first time going wrong. Being ripped away from them or being given up just to make a boy shut up about it. I didn’t want things to be like that with me.
“It wouldn't be like that with Max,” I whispered.
Sure, the man wasn’t the definition of the ‘right person.’ At least not by society’s standards. But I’d never wanted this with anyone else. I’d never even wanted to look at a boy like that before, until he came along. Until I laid eyes on him my first day back to campus and couldn't stop wondering about him.
He might not be Mr. Right. But he was my Mr. Right Now.
And just thinking about him turned me on so much.
I rolled over and faced the wall. My hands trembled as I thought about how I’d felt that bulge against my back yesterday. I felt how big he had grown. The man was a behemoth compared to me. Strong. Muscular. He could pick me up without hesitation with his bare hands. And I wondered if my first time with him would hurt. My toes curled at the thought. I didn't want it to hurt. Would he go slow if I asked?
Stop being so scared all the time, Dani.
I wasn’t scared. I really wasn’t! Well, maybe a little bit. But I wasn’t scared about the sex as much as I was scared about what would come after. He stopped when he saw how uncomfortable I was. If I told him to go slow, I knew he would. I trusted that.
