My gut clenches at the thought of him kissing another girl. But Trace isn’t my guy and will never be my guy. He’s made it very clear that he’s keeping his options open. I go with the most straightforward answer and someone I can handle him kissing because she isn’t into Trace for more than a hookup. “Phoebe.”
“Deal.” He lifts my arm and curls his pinky finger around mine. “I, Trace Saints, pinky swear that I will not catch feelings for Sorrow Sophia during our one-month experiment. If I do, I will swap spit with Phoebe in front of Sorrow. Satisfied?”
I shake my head.
“Did I miss something? Did you change your mind?”
“Let’s make it two weeks.” I could fall for him in a month. “A month is too long. I’m a fast learner.”
“We stick with a month.”
“Three weeks,” I counter.
“We have a winner.” He repeats the words but changes the last part. “Your turn.”
“I, Sorrow Sophia, pinky swear that I will not catch feelings for Trace Saints during our three-week experiment. If I do, I will kiss the boy’s friend in front of Trace.”
“Good, that’s good.” He kisses the top of my head. “What other rules do you have?”
“Um, first, would you mind spelling out how you would eat me up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?” A thrill of excitement goes through me.
His low chuckle gets me hot and bothered.
“And here I thought you’d forgotten my crass words.”
“They weren’t crass.”
“But you’re curious.”
“I am.”
“Are you sure you can handle what I’d like to do to you?” he says near my ear in a low, throaty timbre that messes with my insides and has the place between my thighs aching.
“Tell me,” I rasp. “Please.” My voice comes off needy. I’m needy. My sex throbs with hot need. His words have me wanting to touch myself until my juices slick my fingers and my body trembles from head to toe with my orgasm.
He brushes my hair away from my neck and presses his face to my flesh, beneath my pulse point. “I’ll worship you from head to toe with my mouth and my fingers, and when you’re on the brink of coming, I’ll slide my dick deep inside your wet cunt and thoroughly fuck you until you scream my name.”
His words . . . Jesus, his words are dirty.
“I would only give away my virginity to a boy who is my boyfriend and who is proud to tell the world I’m his girlfriend, his girl.” My words tremble.
I’m not sure if it’s the tail-end effect of being turned on by his unfiltered crass words. Or I’m scared that if I’m not careful, what he wants to do to me will come true. That I’ll have no self-control or self-respect when it comes to Trace Saints.
But I said what I said, and I’m sticking with it. I want it all, the complete package. I won’t be a casual anything.
He shrugs, and I feel the movement along my back and shoulders. “Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It’s a title. Just like husband, wife.”
“It’s more than that. It’s a commitment. It’s two people committing to love only one another.” I put everything out there. I have to. The stakes are high. My heart is on the line. There can’t be any misunderstandings. “Or at least, that’s what boyfriend, girlfriend means to me. I’m not into open relationships.” I’ve read those types of romances, too, and avoid them. I realize I am very old-fashioned.
“To each his own.” He says the words like he’s annoyed that I’m not agreeing with him. He drops a kiss behind my ear, and the fight goes out of me. “What other rules do you have?” he murmurs on my skin. “Make them count, Sorrow. Three weeks isn’t a long time. Give me your best shot.”
The next part is difficult to ask for. Even though he agreed to the experiment, I have no right to ask, but it’s the only way I’ll know whether my body’s reaction to a boy’s is from fear or excitement.
“You can’t hook up with other girls.” Jealousy will muddy the experiment, and I never want to feel the way I did when Trace kissed Rue.
“Exclusive?”
“Yes.” My muscles tense up. I’m expecting him to say no. I mean, a guy like Trace, who reeks of sexual energy and virile masculinity, can’t go even a few days without sex, right?
