I’m dumbstruck.
She wriggles, I imagine to get away from me, but I’m wedged so deep inside her channel that it drives me deeper.
An electric current surges from where we’re connected and tongues the base of my spine with a debilitating intensity, making my balls tingle and my hips spasm. It’s only my hissed name that propels me back to reality.
I pull out, then roll onto my side, feeling like the jackass of all time for causing her pain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the state of my hymen didn’t concern you.” She glares at the tangled network of pipes overhead.
“I still wish you’d told me you were a virgin.”
“Why does this fucking matter?” she bites out.
Because if she’d had experience, I wouldn’t feel like I’d just bulldozed past a line that shouldn’t have been crossed.
I give my hair a harsh shove as I try to think of something plausible to explain my rattled state, but I can barely explain it to myself. WhydoI care that I took her virginity? It’s a piece of flesh, not anything sacred. It’s not like we live in a culture where she’ll expect a marriage proposal.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say.
“For what?”
“For not having been more gentle.”
She tosses me the mother of all side-eyes. “Do I strike you as the type of girl who wants gentle sex?”
I turn on my side and brace my head on my fist. “I just wasn’t expecting…you.”
Her lids spasm. “What exactlywereyou expecting? A woman who gets railed every night?”
The image she paints sets my teeth on edge. “If that was the type of woman you were, I wouldn’t be with you.”
And not only because I would’ve had to compete for her attention with the whole male gender, but also because… Actually, there’s nobecause, since Reeve Rafferty would never have had a chance with this woman.
Some of the edge leaves her face. “Have you been with a lot of women?”
I force myself to slip back into Cillian’s skin and shove Reeve away. “Enough to make me realize how goddamn lucky I am right now.”
Her lashes dance again, making me wonder if I said the right thing, or if she’d have preferred to hear my experience level was on par with hers. “I swear, sometimes it feels like you’re playing me.”
A wash of cold hits my skin. “Why—” I swallow. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re too attentive, and too kind, and too…too…too…”
My dread subsides. “Good-looking?” I supply, removing the condom.
Her lips twitch like she’s kicking down their corners to suppress her smile.
I heave out a theatrical sigh. “I know, I know…it’s the one thing I’m not.”
Even though I speak it lightly, like it’s some joke, I’m aware my face isn’t all that great—especially compared to her Atlantean prince. I used to care about my protruding ears, Irish complexion, and poor eyesight, but after all the shit I’ve seen and lived through, I retired caring.
I’m what I am—or I suppose, in this case, what I pretend to be.
I toss the condom aside and reach for her hip. When I smudge her skin red, I freeze.
Her blood…hersupernaturalblood is on my fingers. I know that as long as it doesn’t penetrate my system, it won’t hurt me, yet I can’t shake the trepidation that it’s about to color-change and flash to signal:liar, liar, liar.
I discreetly wipe my fingers on the sheets. I mustn’t be as subtle as I think because, when I look back at her face, I find her scrutinizing me in a way that makes my lungs feel vacuum-packed. Can she sense my sudden unease?
