“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you’re not nervous.” His voice softens. “It’s cute, but you don’t have to be.”
My heart stutters.
That sounds like the Luke I fell for.
Luke has been patient.
That’s the part my brain keeps circling.
I’m twenty-three and still a virgin. Not because I lack desire, but because every time things got close, I heard my parents’ voices.
Who would want you?
Be realistic.
Luke never made me feel like that.
Not until tonight.
He squeezes my thigh.
“After tonight,” he says smoothly, “you won’t be so tense all the time.”
My breath catches.
His hand slides higher.
“As in,” he adds, “you won’t be…untouchedanymore.”
Heat flashes up my neck, half fear, half something harder to name.
“We’ve only been dating three months,” I manage.
Luke glances over like I’m being adorable.
“And I’ve been a saint,” he says. “Patient. Respectful.”
Saint.
The word twists in my stomach.
“I appreciate it,” I say quietly.
“You should.” His smile sharpens for a second. “Tonight’s going to be special.”
The road curves. The trees thicken.
Then the glow appears ahead, sudden and sleek against the dark.
A club.
The sign is bright and elegant, neon letters curling.
Velvet Reign.
