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“Fine, then you don’t date either,” I throw right back at him.
“Never do,” he says. “It drives me fucking crazy thinking about someone else touching you. I want to kill anyone who has ever put their goddamn hands on you, songbird.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing no one ever has.”
“What?”
The sudden intensity in his voice breaks through the fog he’s putting me under. Crap. I just told him I’m a virgin. That wasn’t supposed to slip out. I’m twenty-one and I’ve only ever been kissed once. I was sixteen. It lasted for all of five seconds, and we never spoke again.
“Say it again, Raven,” he growls.
“I said I guess it’s a good thing no one has ever touched me,” I say.
“You’re a virgin.”
“Yes,” I whisper, glancing around like I’m sharing state secrets or something.
“Name your conditions.”
“What?”
“Your conditions. Name them,” he says, his voice tight. Strained.
“Oh. Um, you can’t tip me. And you have to watch me from backstage.”
“Deal.”
Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.
“Where are you?” he asks. His voice still sounds odd…intense.
“I’m walking back to your place.”
“Good. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
“See you soon, songbird.”
“Bye, Rhys,” I whisper.
