From the way his eyes soften when they meet mine, I can’t imagine he’s thinking anything bad. I beam at him and place the vase in the centre of my coffee table. “Pride of place.” They really are stunning, not a single wilted rose, not a brown mark on any of the petals, and I lean up on my tiptoes to give him a thank-you kiss on the lips.
Before I can retreat, his hand comes up to cup my jaw, keeping me in place so he can kiss me on and on. His mouth is so warm, gentle but firm. I’m left in no doubt from the way he gathers me as close to him as he can manage that he’s been looking forward to this. I guess home isn’t the building in which you live, after all. It’s a pair of arms engulfing you in warmth, kisses, a face you know.
In the few short weeks I’ve known this man, I’ve somehow become attached and gone all in with him without realising it was happening. I don’t really see how anything elsecouldhave taken place. And it hits me just how much power he has over me, how badly I want him, and not just physically. That’s alarming. But it can’t be any other way, so I ease myself into it. Acceptance is the right path.
I smile at him when we finally pull our mouths away from each other to catch our breath. “Hi.”
Hi, he mouths back, kissing my forehead and resting his head there for a moment, like I’m steadying him.
But then he lets me go fully, and takes a step back.Before we go any further, I need to tell you something. The warmth in his eyes is still there, but they’re more serious than before he kissed me. More nervous.
Oh dear.
Possibilities flash through my head. I’d put money on himnotbeing married or gay. Maybe he has a sexual hang-up, or an intriguing fetish?
Whatever it is, he has my support.
He heads back to his rucksack and pulls out his tablet, turning it on and opening an app before handing it over to me.
It’s a Word document on the screen.
Hey, Liaden.
I’m not making any assumptions about what’s going to happen here - everything at your pace, I promise - but there’s something you should know because it IS relevant to what MIGHT.
The thing is, I’ve never had sex with anyone before. My experience stops at second base, so anything we do beyond that will be my first time doing it. So I will need you to guide me and tell me what to do, and rest assured I’ll do anything you want. But I just didn’t want you to wonder why I’m not better at whatever we end up doing.
I really do want this to be good for you, so please do let me know how to make that happen. I WANT to be told, because you deserve better than guess work. And hey, you can train me up exactly the way you want without having to break me of any bad habits? [Insert nervous laughter here…]
I hope this isn’t too much of a problem, but at the same time I will understand if this isn’t something you want to do becauseyou want competence and experience in the bedroom, or if taking my innocence [lol] just ain’t your bag.
You look beautiful, by the way.
I’m…
Speechless. I wasnotexpecting that. How is that even possible? He can’t have been lacking offers… Why didn’t he take any of them?
I’m caught between stunned disbelief that this sexy, devastating man who’s been haunting my dreams day and night is a virgin - much as I take issue with the spurious connotations of that word - and wanting to smother him with kisses for being so open and honest with me. But then, it’s so Dean: honest, careful, and wanting to do right by me. He’s like that when he’s drawing on my skin with needles, and he’s carrying the policy over into the bedroom.
“It’s not a problem at all,” I assure him softly. His face and shoulders both relax, like he was holding his breath for my response and preparing for the worst. “You don’t have to answer, but may I ask why? It’s not that there’s anything wrong with it, not at all. It’s just that it’s so surprising, because…well. You’re a very attractive man indeed, and I can’t deny that I’m…well, shall we say ‘taken aback’?” A possible answer occurs to me. “Oh - is this for religious reasons?”
He looks stunned, a little thoughtful, and holds out his hand for his tablet. As he starts to type, my manners come screaming back to me.
“Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee? Or I have a rather nice blackberry flavoured water, or grape juice, I think…” I’m babbling.
Water would be nice, please? By the time I’m back with it, he’s done, and hands his tablet back to me, putting his hands in his back pockets and hunching his shoulders.
The fact that you could put it down to religious reasons rather than anything else is…well, thank you for thinking that could be the reason. But the truth is - and I don’t want to dwell on this too much because I don’t want to ruin the mood - I was meant to lose my virginity with my steady girlfriend on prom night, and then I was caught up in the grief, and wanted to keep to myself and ignore the world except for my family. I guess I’ve just never really put myself out there or been receptive to anything with anyone.
Until you.
I melt. My eyes actually prick with unexpected tears, and I swallow hard past a lump in my throat. I toss the tablet onto the sofa and damn near leap at him, spilling his water all over my carpet in the process and not caring in the least, lifting up on my tiptoes to cup his face and smooth back his hair. He closes his eyes and faintly leans into my touch, and I am gone for this man. Right now, I am sohisthat if he asked me to take a flying leap over a cliff, I’d ask him if he had any preference as to which one. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because we don’t have to. We can go at your pace, I promise. Whatever you want,” I tell him, filled to bursting with a tenderness I’ve never felt for anyone else.
His eyes burn into mine.I’m very sure, he mouths, before switching to sign language.I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. I barely have time to register what he said before he pulls me back to him so he can kiss me again. This is a kiss that consumes us both, our mouths fucking each other before our bodies get down to it, a kiss that rearranges my brain and permanently etches into my bones like the footprints on the moon. He breathes out a silent moan, one hand pressing on my lower back to bring me closer still, and so I can feel how badly he’s wanting me; his other hand has a fistful of my hair, which he gently tugs in a way that sets my ladyclam to tingling.
He rests his forehead on mine, looking both lost and found, nervous and desperate and enchanted.Where’s your bedroom?He asks with his hands.
Whatever happens now is going to change me. I can feel it, like a benign warning, and I want to run to it with open arms. Iwantto be changed. I want to turn myself inside out giving him the best experience I possibly can, and I don’t ever want to go back to the same person I was before.
