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“Bryce convinced me to go to this fundraiser with him. He wanted me as his double date. A couple of actresses…so I went as a favor to him. It was a networking opportunity, he said, a way to meet high, net-worth donors. Well, it worked. After, he told me people loved my whole haunted routine, my story…losing the perfect family, rich and handsome and successful but broken. It appealed to people. It was the perfect narrative for a man heading up a charity for hit-and-run victims.
“The donations flooded in.”
She watches, moving closer. I think she’s guessed where this is going.
“So we kept doing it,” I go on. “Bryce handles that part of it. He arranges the dates and lets them know we’re attending more as friends than anything else. But the public doesn’t know. The tabloids don’t.”
“And people donate….”
“It’s press.” I shrug. “My face has become recognizable from courting the tabloids in a way it never would if I let the shine from my football career fade.”
“So you…,” she takes slow steps toward me, staring up. “You used your own grief and pain to make money so others would have an easier time.”
I try for a smirk. “When you say it like that, I sound like arealhero huh.”
“Logan,” she says firmly, walking right up to me. “Don’t joke about it. Is that what happened?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “I’ve never enjoyed any of the parties, the women. I’ve never even kissed any of them.”
“It’s so difficult to believe.”
“I swear on Anna, Lucy. I’m telling the truth.”
She bites her lip, nodding. “You must’ve really loved Rachael, then, if you feel this way.”
I shake my head. “That’s not why I hated it. I never felt a connection with any of those women. But I do with you.”
We kiss again, magnetized, unable to stop.
Her body feels like it was made for me, my hands sliding down to her hips. We spin, and then I break off the kiss, cradling her, staring down.
“I feel a connection, too,” she says softly. “I mean…my frame of reference is just a little smaller. But this feels….”
She trails off, and I say, “Real. It feels real.”
“Yes, exactly. It does.”
“Since we’re being honest,” she says. “Can I ask something else?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you say me being a virgin made you want memore?”
It means she belongs to me, only me, and always will.
It means she’s mine, especially her soaked slit, especially the perfect pussy I’m going to explode my seed into…and give her a family,usa family. She said she wanted one.
Yeah, probablyone day.
Not so suddenly. Not like this.
“It’s been a while for me,” I say, leaning down and kissing her forehead softly. “In a way, it’ll be like it’s both our first times.”
Both those statements are true. I’m not lying to her.
But I’m not beingcompletelyhonest either.
She looks at me, her eyes glinting in that tempting way. I’m sure there’s something more, but then she nods and leans forward.
