"Ben?"
"Emma?" His voice is heavy, scraped by his last brutal shift.
"Have you... ever had this much chemistry with anyone?" I ask with a shy smile.
The second I blurt it out, I feel stupid—I don't really know why I'm asking something that could ruin me. But I guess I want to know.
He shakes his head against my back immediately. "No. Never."
It's the speed that gets me, like it didn't even require thinking.
I grin wide into the pillow and curl closer to him. "Yeah. Me neither."
I think he's going to appreciate it, but his body goes still. The sofa-haze is done, I can tell.
"I wasn't ready to think about your past lovers," he mutters, voice gravelly. "Hate the idea."
I roll my eyes. "Saint Bellini, offended by basic human history."
He doesn't answer, so I sigh because fine, honesty deserves honesty.
"Well, just so you know..." I clear my throat. "You're only the fourth person I've ever been with."
He shifts behind me, fully awake now. "What?"
Why do I suddenly feel so stupid? It's a good thing. No?
I fiddle with the sleeve of my hoodie and whisper, "Yeah."
In one fluid motion, he flips me to face him and searches my eyes. "Like... ever?"
I give him an annoyed look, tempted to smack him. "What do you mean? Yes.Ever." I snap the last word under my breath.
Shock flits across his face with satisfaction, instantly followed by a flicker of disbelief. "So where the hell did you learn to ride like that? That pelvis is a professional."
I burst out laughing. "Yoga, twice a week, duh."
"Yoga?" He echoes, suspicion tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You expect me to believe a few stretches turned you into a sex goddess?"
"Maybe I was born with it," I tease. "And it's true. I'm a long-term relationship girl, okay?"
His arms tighten around me possessively. "You realize four is where it ends, right? You're not getting to five. Not in this lifetime. Or any lifetime."
I pull a face at him, teasing him. "You don't know that."
"Like hell I know that—not under my watch. I'd destroy the guy before he even looked at you," he shoots out.
"You're so smug."
"Nope—just aware," he says, his brow ticking upward in a slow challenge. "You had three amateurs, then me. You think anyone else is going to measure up? I've ruined you."
"Well, while we're at it and you're so damn cocky—" I nod my chin at him. "How many?"
He frowns, as if he didn't expect me to ask him.
Neither did I. Why do I even want to know all this?
"Don't ask me something I can't take back," he says then, voice firm.
