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I looked at him. There was obviously something else going on that made him feel this way other than what seemed a very progressive view. Paris, perhaps? I didn’t feel lectured at, rather he was trying to convey something that was really important to him.
“So…your fault?”
He gave me that smile. “Totally my fault.”
“Not at all my fault?”
“Well, maybe like…twenty percent your fault.” He gave me that sexy, teasing smirk. “You could have reminded me. But, I shouldn’t have forgotten.”
I nodded slowly. “I don’t regret it.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Thank God.” He pulled me close and kissed my hair.
So, that was how I lost my virginity; in the pouring rain, in a thunderstorm, against Roman Lombardi’s ute, still clothed, completely bareback, while we were both totally pissed with each other for who knew exactly what reason.
It was by no means perfect.
In fact, if you’d asked me what I’d thought about that particular method of cherry popping before it occurred, I would have said it sounded like the worst possible way.
But, in reality, it was even better than fireworks.
Eventually, he pulled away from me and brushed my hair from my eyes. “You okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine. I promise I’m fine.”
And, I felt fine. Maybe a little tender and swollen, and my heart beat too quickly given I had no idea what was going to happen next (and my undies were in a serious need of a change…way to go movies never telling me about the mess after condom-less sex…). But, I did feel fine; I didn’t feel violated or taken advantage of, I didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I felt fine. Normal. Relaxed. Happy even.
He tipped my chin to him and kissed me gently. It felt an awful lot like he was apologising.
“No apologies, Roman,” I whispered against his lips.
He huffed a laughed and nudged my nose with his. “I’ll take you back home.”
He pulled away before I had a chance to answer and had pulled the car door open. He helped me in, giving me a soft smile before he closed the door.
When we got back to his driveway, he looked me over carefully. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Why do I feel like you regret it, Roman?”
He shook his head. “My idiocy aside, I only regret it if I hurt you.”
I smiled and leant over the centre console. “Not hurt.”
His eyes lost that pinched look and he nodded. “Okay, good. I’d best let you get in and get warm.”
I had a feeling that what had just happened was going to keep me warm for a while, but I didn’t tell him that.
“I guess, yeah.”
He jumped out his side and was at mine to help me out before I was halfway there.
“Night, Roman,” I said, looking up at him.
He cupped my cheek and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Night, Piper.”
As I walked back to my house, I could have sworn I heard something. When I turned back to look, I had a sneaking suspicion that he’d just kicked his tyre but was playing it cool. I bit my lip against a smile, gave him a wave – to which he gave me a curt nod – and headed inside to deal with the fact that condom-less sex creates a mess that isn’t shy about dripping down the inside of your leg.
