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There was nothing dorkier than admitting you’d never gotten laid because you were too busy studying for your Economics 312 final.
My mother, and all the other society ladies, insisted that a woman’s virginity was a gift. My girlhood was filled with trite metaphors about being a flower or a chewed-up piece of gum, as if my worth was transactional.
I never intended to stay a virgin. It never came up … another example of me unintentionally doing what my parents wanted, even though I longed to rebel with every fiber of my being.
I glanced over at Sebastian, readying for him to make a joke about how I was a prude. But he remained silent, his molten green eyes fixed on mine. I bet he wouldn’t mind living out of wedlock. My heart fluttered at the thought, dropping down into my belly button.
I tried to stand up, but I stumbled. “Hey.” I hiccupped. “Enough with the twenty questions. I want a penthouse tour.”
“Would you like me to carry you from room to room?”
“Smart ass.” I ran my hands through my hair. “We can do that later. For now, get me a glass of water, please.”
He smiled and headed to the kitchen. I laid back on the rug, exhausted. Sebastian returned with a glass of water in his hand.
“Here you go,” he said softly.
I sat up and grabbed the glass. Our fingers brushed. The intensity of his gaze left me breathless. His eyes were dark and unwavering, fixing on my body with a deep hunger.
“Thank you,” I whispered, taking a sip.
Warmth settled in my core as his eyes moved to my bare legs. The heat between us was palpable. “It’s not fair that you’re here drunk.”
I ran my fingers along my thigh. “I’m not that drunk.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He returned to his chair. “I may be many things, but I’ve never taken advantage of a woman.”
I placed the glass on the coffee table, and he motioned for me to use a coaster. “What about all the women you’ve slept with?”
“I never took advantage of them.”
“Yeah, right.” I placed the glass on the coaster.
“Rebecca, I’ve always been honest with women. No commitments. I show them a good time, and they return the favor.”
“That sounds lonely.”
He shrugged. “It’s how I want to live my life.”
“Until now.”
“This,” he said as he gestured between us, “is different.”
“I know.”
Silence settled between us for several moments.
“What do you do with your time?”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t like parties, but you must like something. What do you usually do?”
I scrambled to think of something. I could not tell him that I spent most of my free time at The Cookie Cove, so I settled on the cliche society woman answer, “Oh, I like art, culture. I did a lot of volunteering with my sorority when I was in college.”
“I like to bake,” I added, offering a hint of the truth.
“Interesting,” he replied, a touch of disbelief in his voice.
