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“Did it hurt you?”
“No. Fuck no.” He stands up, and I scoot toward the faucet. “Sit behind me.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he climbs in behind me, stretching his strong legs out around me. As I wonder if I’ve ruined this somehow, he wraps his arms around my waist. He folds my back against his chest, one arm below my breasts, and I can feel him breathing.
I cling to his forearm. When he kisses my shoulder, I rub his leg with my foot. Then I need the reassurance of his eyes. I turn to face him. Instead of kissing me, as at first I think he will, he pulls me to him, hugging me so hard it nearly hurts.
I hug him back. I stroke his shoulder, kiss his pec.
“I’m sorry.” His voice vibrates.
“Why are you sorry?”
He shakes his head. He shakes his head again, and I can feel him inhale. “It’s been a while.” It’s whispered.
“Was it…”
“It was good. I’m glad I had the condom.”
I press my hand to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, hard and fast. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
His eyes shut, and he shakes his head once more. When he speaks, the words are soft—so very soft, near murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt. It felt amazing.”
I frame his face with my hands, gently forcing his eyes to mine. Troubled eyes.
I stroke his cheeks and neck, and then his shoulders. His eyes close. Then his hand comes to his face, his fingers tunneling into his hair.
I hug him.
“I don’t do that…with virgins.” It’s a raspy whisper.
“Why not? Does it…hurt you?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t feel fair.” His eyes open. He looks dazed.
“Why not?”
He shakes his head again.
“You’re far from a virgin. Is that why?”
He nods once.
“I knew. I figured,” I amend. “You’re gorgeous and wealthy…a sports star.” I’m trying for a bit of levity, resurrecting the sentiment I expressed in the burrow—that I won’t pity him because he’s so superlative. I want to prompt a smile.
Instead, he holds his head with one hand; with the other, he g
rips the bath’s side. “I can’t fuck you up, Finley.”
“You won’t. You didn’t. Come here…” I try to kiss his mouth and end up kissing his chin. “You would never hurt me. I know that, and I’m not worried at all.”
His eyes lift open, and his mouth takes mine. He kisses me deeply…with a sort of hunger. Then he wrenches away. I feel as if he’ll lean away. Instead, he pulls me to him, holding me against his chest, where I can feel his heartbeat. “When we got back, I was fucking haunted by you.”
When we got back—from the burrow. “Likewise,” I whisper.
He inhales. Blows the breath out. “I don’t do this.” It’s half groaned. He’s got his head bowed near my shoulder.
