IthoughtIwouldfeel different.
A small part of me always thought I would have this out-of-body moment—that after it was over, I’d feel forever changed.
But I still feel like me—a little sore, but me.
Wesley was softer than I expected him to be. I didn’t feel likejusta fuck buddy as he pumped slowly inside of me. It felt like we were making love. He kept brushing my hair away from my face and pressing gentle kisses against my skin.
It was…romantic.
My playlist flowed through the speakers of his truck as we moved together, like a moment plucked right out of a movie.
After the painful burn of my body stretching around him—to accommodatehim—faded away, I actually enjoyed it. I know it’s normal to not have an orgasm your first time, but I didn’t expect it to feel good.
He kissed me, slow and passionate, as he pulled out of me, a huge grin on his face. Wesley’s smiles are rare, which made catching one feel like holding sunlight in my hands.
If I’d known all he needed to get out of his grumpy, brooding bubble was to come, maybe I would’ve proposed this arrangement weeks ago.
He silently passed me my clothes before hopping down, both of us getting dressed without a word.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.
“Hey, thanks for swiping my V card. Let’s do this again sometime?”
No way.
Yanking my sweater over my head, I decide to just play it off and pretend like this is a totally normal thing for me. Sex is no big deal.
“What the fuck?”Wesley’s deep, gravelly voice cuts through the silence.
I glance over. His eyes flick between the blankets we were lying on…and himself.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, still digging around for my missing underwear.
He doesn’t answer.
Giving up my search, I pull on my leggings and glance back at him. He’s still shirtless, wearing only his briefs.
At least one of us found our underwear.
But he’s no longer pulling his clothes on. He’s frozen, staring down.
My stomach drops—something is off. This isn’t his usual quiet.
Is he freaking out? Regretting this?
This whole thing could ruin everything he’s been working toward. He could get into so much trouble. Disappoint his dad. I don’t even want to think about the possibility ofmy fatherfinding out.
Does he feel like I pushed him into this?
He hasn’t brought anyone home the entire time I’ve been here. He hasn’t even gone out unless I was there.
Did he actually want this?
He mutters something under his breath and I’m struck with a violent pang of guilt.
“Sadie…” he says finally, letting out a deep sigh. His eyes drop to the blankets again, and this time, I follow his gaze.
Blood.
