“I mean.” I scramble. “You invited me over. I just assumed—”
“Assumed what?” he asks gently.
That you expect this. That this is the part I’m supposed to play. That if I don’t, you’ll wonder what’s wrong with me.
“I don’t know,” I say—and because stopping feels impossible, I lean up and kiss him.
My mouth presses to his, and I push myself against him, trying to make my intentions unmistakably clear. My hands land awkwardly on his chest, fingers tense, uncertain of where they’re supposed to go.
Declan kisses me back—but carefully. He doesn’t deepen it right away. He lets me set the pace, even though my pace is a mess.
When his hand slides to my waist, my breath catches with a small, humiliating sound I can’t stop. The moment his thumb presses a little firmer, heat flares—
—and panic follows immediately.
I pull back.
“I’m fine,” I say too fast.
“You don’t look fine,” he says quietly.
“I am,” I insist, then ruin it by leaning in again, kissing him harder this time, like force might substitute for confidence.
My hands wander—clumsy, unsure. I grab his biceps, then his shoulders, then accidentally fist the fabric of his shirt like I’m bracing for impact. I’m not touching him with intention so much as urgency, like I’m trying to get from point A to point B without knowing the route.
When his hand moves up my back, my body betrays me.
I stiffen.
Declan feels it instantly.
He breaks the kiss—not abruptly, but decisively—and rests his forehead against mine.
“Ivy,” he murmurs. “Hey.”
I’m breathing too fast. My cheeks burn. I hate that I’m doing this wrong. I hate that I can feel how wrong it is.
“I’m okay,” I say for the third time, which is when I realize he hasn’t believed me once.
His gaze shifts, searching now. Not teasing. Not flirtatious. Analytical. Gentle.
The silence stretches.
Then he exhales, slow and careful.
“You’re a virgin.”
The words aren’t accusatory. Just a statement of fact.
Heat floods my face. “What? I—no, I—” The sentence falls apart before it can go anywhere.
He keeps looking at me with those patient green eyes. “No?” he asks gently.
“Well… actually, yes. I am.” I lift my chin, bracing myself. “Is that a problem?”
“A problem?” He blinks, genuinely startled. “No. Of course not.” He pauses. “It’s just… good to know. And I wish you’d told me sooner.”
“Why?” I cross my arms, suddenly needing the barrier.
