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“You don’t remember how old you were?” He seems to find this humorous.
“It wasn’t the greatest experience of my life. It was quite mortifying actually. I try not to think about it,” I ramble.
“Was it that bad?”
“Worse.” I sigh. “He bit my tongue.”
“He what?” He slides up into a sitting position, not even trying to hide how funny he finds this bit of information.
“He bit my tongue,” I repeat.
“Babe, when you say hebitit…”
“I mean, when I stuck my tongue in his mouth he bit down…hard.”
“Oh my god.” Kane holds his stomach, laughter roaring through him.
“Screw you, jerk.” I shove at him. “I don’t think he meant to do it. I think he was a little over excited and clamped his teeth down when I stuck my tongue in his mouth. Anyway, it was his first kiss too so I guess I shouldn’t have expected much.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t swear off kissing right then and there.”
“I would have if it weren’t for my friends promising me that what happened to meneverhappened to anyone else. Eventually I figured it had to get better than that.”
“And did it?” He rests his back against the headboard, eyeing me knowingly.
“You already know the answer to that one,” I tell him before quickly redirecting the conversation back to him.
“First time you had sex?”
“Fifteen. Rachel Balanie.”
“God. Fifteen?”
“That’s actually not that young, especially for a teenage boy,” he informs me. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen. Mike Webster.”
“Did he bite anything he wasn’t supposed to?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have told you that story.” I shake my head, not able to hide my smile even though I try like hell to.
“Can’t take it back now.”
“I’m aware.” I hit him with an evil glare–one that I know he sees right through.
“Is that your attempt at mean muggin’? Because I gotta tell you, babe, it’s not working.” He laughs when I once again smack his stomach.
“Asshole,” I say dramatically.
“Have you ever been in love?” Kane’s question is so out of left field it takes several long moments before I’ve recovered enough to form a response.
“Have you?” I counter.
“No,” he answers simply. “You’re turn,” he prompts when I make no attempt to say anything.
“That’s a complicated question with an even more complicated answer.”
“I’m sure I can keep up.”
