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He rolls his eyes. “Of course I want to go to bed with you. You’re gorgeous.”
I’m genuinely surprised. “Even though I’ve admitted I’ve not done it before?”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Despite the fact that this isn’t a Jane Austen novel, some would say that’s an attraction.”
“What? Seriously?”
His lips curve up. “Guys like writing their name in the snow.”
“Oh my God.”
“You can’t see why it’s a turn on to be someone’s first?”
“No.” I can’t believe this is happening. “Have you done it before?”
“Slept with a virgin? No. I’m intrigued.”
“So your first time wasn’t with another virgin?”
“No. She was four years older than me.”
“Four years!”
“She was nineteen.”
“You were only fifteen!”
He laughs. “Yeah. She thought I was eighteen.”
“Jesus. Technically that makes her a pedophile.”
He just chuckles. “Guys don’t care about that when they’re desperate to get laid.”
“So you were desperate at fifteen? You understand, then, why I’m going crazy at twenty-five?”
“Oh, I get it, absolutely. Of course you want to have sex. And I understand that there are obviously complications in your life that make dating impossible. I get why you decided to go on Tinder. And like I said, when we went out tonight, my plan was to hopefully get a second date, because I really like you. But if I can’t… I’ll happily take you to bed.”
My gaze falls to his mouth. “And show me what’s what?”
“And show you what’s what.”
“If I ever do date someone for real, I don’t want to look like a fool.”
“So you’re saying you want me to show you everything I know, to prepare you for meeting another man?”
“Ah…”
He rolls his eyes again. “Whatever. Can I kiss you?”
This is the litmus test. I think about Tim last night, and how kissing him couldn’t have felt less sexy.
I glance around the room, concerned that someone’s watching. But the lights are low, it’s quiet, the bartender’s busy at the other end of the bar, and the other people here are all concentrating on themselves.
“Don’t look at them,” he says. “Look at me.”
I bring my gaze back to his. He’s thinking about kissing me. About what I look like naked. About having sex with me.
I hold my breath as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. Then he cups the side of my head, his thumb stroking my cheek. Behind him, the fairy lights on the tree flicker and change from red, to blue, to gold.
