A new tension takes root in me, and I’m about to suck my lip between my teeth when Adam sucks it between his instead. He eases forward, slowly stretching me to fit him, but I’m too tight and my nerves are only making me tighter.
“Adam,” I pant, breaking my lips from his. This isn’t fair to him. God, I want him, but I need to tell him. He’s going to be my first, which means this will mean something to me even if he doesn’t want it to.
His hips immediately pull back and leave me empty, his face full of concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” I cover my eyes with my hand, my face burning red with embarrassment. I have to tell him I’ve never been with anyone. There’s no way he’s not going to know.
He gently covers my hand in his and pulls it away. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”
“It’s not that,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed because I can’t bear to look at him. “I’ve just never done this before.”
Utter silence. I don’t even hear him breathe. When I open my eyes again, he’s just staring at me like he’s never seen me before. Like he doesn’t even know me. “You’re kidding . . .”
“No,” I say, shaking my head in shame. I hate the way he’s looking at me. I never wanted him to look at me like that, like we’re strangers. Like I’m just another girl—a naïve one with no experience who doesn’t belong in his bed.
“But you lived with your ex . . .”
I push up on the bed and frantically grab my shirt, pulling it back on while Adam stares at me. “We never did anything. I mean, we messed around . . . Not like we just messed around,” I gesture toward his hard, naked body but try to avert my eyes, “but yeah . . . no . . .” Oh God. I just need to stop talking. Please God let me stop talking.
“You’re a virgin,” Adam says, like he can’t quite wrap his head around it.
My bare feet hit the floor and I dive back into my leggings and panties, which are still bunched together. “Yeah, Adam, I’m a virgin.”
“Where are you going?” he asks as I make for the door. He’s on the bed, on his knees, the erect length between his legs begging for me to lie back down beneath him. But with the way he just stared at me, I doubt he’d want me anyway. I’m not his Peach. I’m just some lukewarm little girl who’s way out of her league.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say, and then I slip into the hallway and close Adam’s door behind me.
IN THE BATHROOM, I brace my hands on the sink, cursing myself for wasting my teenage years on Brady instead of losing my virginity in the backseat of some random guy’s car like Dee. I’m not the type of girl Adam likes no matter how much I wish I was or try to pretend I am. I’ve never had a one-night stand or a threesome, both of which would require not being a freaking virgin. He would have been better off bringing Kayla or Zoey back to his room—at least they would’ve known what the hell they were doing.
Since I’m too embarrassed to face him or anyone I might find in the living room—considering they now know what I sound like when I’m having the best almost-sex I’ve ever had in my life—I stay in the bathroom until I fall asleep on the floor, and I don’t wake up until later when someone lifts me off the cold tile.
“What are you doing?” my groggy voice asks as I wrap my arms around the someone’s neck. I bury my face against their T-shirt, and Adam’s scent envelopes me.
“Besides wondering why you’re sleeping on the bathroom floor?” he asks, and I remember what happened between us in a rush.
I don’t say another word. I don’t say anything when he sets me on the bed, or when he tucks me under the covers, or when he crawls in next to me. We face each other under the dim glow of the city lights filtering in through his sheer black curtains, and I wish I could close my eyes and pretend to sleep, but I can’t. He’s impossible to look away from, gorgeous and staring at me like any girl in the world would want to be looked at by a boy like him, like I wished he would have looked at me before I fled to the bathroom.
He reaches forward and plays with a long lock of my wavy blonde hair, letting it spill between his fingers before his gaze finds mine again. “What were you going to say when I asked why you wanted me?”
My voice mirrors the nervous fluttering in my belly, tiny and uneven when I ask, “Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“I don’t remember.”
Adam studies me, and then he says, “Then ask me why I want you.” His voice is quiet and smooth, in total opposition to mine. He stares at me like I’m something delicate and speaks to me like I might blow away. When I don’t respond, he tucks my hair behind my ear and traces the curve of my jaw with his thumb. “Peach . . . ask me why.”
His answer can’t possibly be the same as mine, and I don’t want to hear anything less. Not from him. So instead of asking, I lean forward until my lips are a breath from his, searching his eyes before I whisper, “Do you want me?” It’s not the question he told me to ask, but it’s the one I need an answer to.
I surprise myself by not waiting to for his reply. The pull of his lips is too strong to resist, and I close the distance between us just as he’s opening his mouth to give me an answer. I navigate carefully to test his reaction, gasping when his arm circles around me and tugs me flush against him. With his hand splayed across my lower back, his lips explore mine—gentle, soft, and addicting.