She lifted her chin. “I never said I wasn’t a virgin.”
“You never said you were, either.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t something that came up.”
“Are you serious? You don’t think it could have gone something like, ‘Do we need to have a conversation? And oh, by the way, I’m a virgin.’ Or ‘Oh, Avery, fuck me, but hey, go slow because, oh yeah, I’m a fucking virgin.’”
“You told me not to think.”
He snorted as he shot off the bed and stared at her. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. She’d been a virgin, and he taken that from her. He hadn’t been gentle, either. He’d tried because she was tight, but…
His dick, which had shriveled the second he saw the blood, raged to life.
No, goddamn it.
Closing his eyes, he sucked in a calming breath, but guilt slammed into his gut.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I should have known something wasn’t right? But how the fuck could I? I’ve never fucked a virgin before.
But this wasn’t about him.
He opened his eyes and soaked in the scene. Jo, so beautiful in that just fucked way, tangled auburn waves framingher face and falling around creamy white shoulders, the blanket barely covering her tits.
And the goddamn bullseye stain mocking him from the center of the bed.
“Fuck.” He turned away from the remorse eating at him, grabbed his pants, and headed for the door.
“Avery?”
He spun around and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t fucking move.”
In the bathroom, he finally disposed of the condom and ran the tap until hot water flowed, which took too fucking long in this shithole. He cleaned himself and jammed one leg in his jeans, then the other, and wet another washcloth.
When he returned to the bedroom, she sat with her back to the wall, her knees tucked against her chest, arms hugging them close.
But anger still held him in its grip. Anger at himself for not knowing, for taking her so roughly. Anger at her for letting him. More than that, for encouraging him. “Lie down.”
She held out a hand. “I can do it myself.”
“I’m going to do it, and you’re going to let me.”
Her stubborn gaze held his for a moment, then her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, and she rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She slid down the bed, adjusting the blanket to expose her thighs. “This is ridiculous.”
Ignoring her, he nudged her knee with the cloth. She hesitated, then faced the wall, closed her eyes, and spread her legs.
As he gently washed away the evidence of her virginity, the fingers fisting the blanket at her waist relaxed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You should have had a choice. I should have told you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t want…” She swallowed, hard.
Me.
The pain in the unsaid word sliced into him, cutting away a piece of his heart. Shit like this was why he didn’t do relationships. It was too messy, too heavy. He liked a clean getaway.
But he wasn’t ready to walk away from Jo, and for now, he’d carry her pain if she’d let him. It was only fair. She’d bled for him. He could bleed for her.
