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Fuck, I want her. I want her even more than I did when I thought she was just a hot bargirl.

But she’s a virgin. She has no idea what she’s asking of me. No idea what she might feel once we’ve slept together. It takes practice to be able to fuck someone and forget them almost instantly. I’ve acquired that skill over the years. Or maybe I always had it. Maybe that’s something to do with growing up the way I did; you learn to get good at cutting people off.

Despite what Millie’s saying, I’m not sure I believe her.

‘I don’t do virgins.’

Her eyes are slightly mocking when they lift to mine. ‘Is that a rule you’ve got, Michael?’

Her Australian accent is broader when she says my name. It’s hot. I like it. More than I want to.

‘So you don’t do relationships.’ She moves her fingers to the next button down, undoing it, her expression lightly teasing. ‘You don’t do virgins.’ She bites down on her lower lip. ‘But will you do me, Michael?’

I catch her hand at the wrist, pulling it away from my chest, moving it to her lap. It’s a mistake. At least it’s a mistake if my goal is to put some distance between us. Because her skin is so soft beneath my fingers, and our bodies are closer now. She’s warm. She’s beautiful. She wants me.

Shit.

I have never slept with a virgin—not even when I was one. The thought of being someone’s first has never really appealed to me. It’s too emotional. Too...something.

‘It wouldn’t mean anything,’ she murmurs, and that shimmers inside me, giving me hope but also pause for thought.

‘And don’t you think it should?’ Hypocrite, my cock screams, reminding me of how little sex means to me, generally.

She shrugs. ‘I think...that’s a judgement call.’

I like her. At least I like the way she thinks. ‘And your judgement’s telling you this is what you want?’

She nods slowly, and then her hand creeps away from mine, from her lap, to my dick. My breath hisses out of my mouth as she runs her fingertips over it briefly, testing its hardness, her smile just a ghost on her beautiful face.

‘And my judgement is that I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin who doesn’t want to be.’ She bites down on her pillowy lower lip and I groan. ‘Will you help me?’

What’s wrong with me? Why the hell am I not just pulling her into my arms and fucking her right here? It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t done before, I think with a grimace. Is that it? Is there some kind of bullshit part of me that feels...undeserving...to be her first? Because my attitude to sex is generally so cavalier that I don’t want her virginity?

That’s madness, and it’s not me. Is it?

I have no idea why I’m hesitating.

I shake my head, as if I can mute my doubts that way.

‘Don’t,’ she murmurs, her hand lifting back to my throat. She smiles as she slides her fingers into the fabric, running them over my chest, to my shoulder. She lifts her legs, curling them over my lap, and I realise—belatedly—that she’s not wearing a seat belt.

I reach behind her, my arm brushing her breasts. ‘Buckle in.’ The words are gruff, like an order.

She doesn’t move, so I slide the seat belt around her, hooking it into the clasp. When I lift my head, her face is right there. And she’s smiling. A knowing smile. Because, for all I’m saying ‘no,’ I think she feels my body, she feels my desire, she knows what I want. And it’s exactly what she’s suggesting.

‘Millie...’ The word is a warning. ‘You’re playing with fire.’

‘Mmm...’ A throaty noise of agreement. ‘And I badly want to get burned.’

I pull a face. ‘You’ve just got all the answers, haven’t you?’

She shrugs, her slender shoulders dragging my eyes lower, to the curve of her breasts. Desire whips me from the inside out.

‘Sometimes.’

‘So, answer me this. Why haven’t you slept with anyone?’

She shakes her head from side to side, her eyes teasing. ‘I thought we decided that didn’t matter?’

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