“Jesus,” he muttered, looking at the cloudy windshield. “You go right for the kill, don’t you?”
I put a finger under his chin and turned his eyes back to me. “I want you in my bed. We both know that’s where this is heading. You were raised in an uptight house?—”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said.
“—and I’m not sure how much experience you have.”
He pulled away from my touch, and the mischief returned to his expression. “I know my way around a dick, Jesse.”
Jealousy knotted my gut. Maybe this conversation was a bad idea. “I don’t want any confusion between us,” I said. “I want to fuck you. I want to know what you like.”
Heat crackled across our bond as his blue eyes dipped to my mouth. “I think I’ll like anything you want to do.”
Lust pounded in my veins. “You’ll like it,” I rasped.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a goddamn guarantee.”
The rest of his smile appeared, the slow reveal like the summer sunrise filtering through a window. For a long moment,we just stared at each other, a lava flow of desire between us. Then he looked toward the windshield again. When he spoke at last, his voice was quieter.
“I went a little wild when I was younger. Nothing too slutty, but I’m a lot choosier now.”
My wolf snarled in my mind, urging me to inform him that hischoosingdays were over. But I kept my mouth shut and settled back in my seat.
“I was sixteen my first time,” he said. “It was with a guy from this retreat my parents sent me on. It was conversion therapy, but they didn’t call it that. We all knew, though. Throwing the occasional s’more or nature hike at us didn’t fool anyone.”
I ground my molars together. The information about the “retreats” was in his file in his football coach’s office. I wanted to drive back to Hale Valley and strangle his parents in their beds.
“The counseling sessions were so boring,” he said. “I was used to talking to my youth pastor, and I guess I thought the retreat would be more of the same bullshit. And it was, but meeting with counselors was truly exhausting. Plus, it pissed me off.” He looked at me. “I’ve always been a little rebellious. What better way to stick it to my parents than to lose my virginity at their stupid little torture camp?”
Shit, he was breaking my heart. It took a few tries before I could speak. “Did you like the guy?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Yeah. We were both clueless about sex, but we figured it out. I, uh, fucked him if you’re wondering. It was awkward and mostly unsatisfying for both of us, so we just fooled around after that. And before you go all health teacher on me, yes, we used condoms.”
I returned his smile. “And the others? Were they awkward and unsatisfying?”
Caleb released a short laugh. “Not always. I turned nineteen the same weekend I graduated high school. My parents decidedto go on a cruise. They ignored my birthday and skipped my graduation ceremony, so I figured they wanted me to celebrate on my own.”
I leaned forward and flipped on the defroster, leather creaking under me. “I have a feeling this story is going to give me a heart attack.”
He laughed again, and I endeavored to make him do it as often as I could manage. “A guy named Declan from my church had turned twenty-one and moved to Manhattan to be an actor. I drove my mom’s car to the city, and Declan and I spent the weekend hitting every gay club we could find. We made sure to look for ones with drag queens, since they’re the downfall of society according to my mom’s Facebook groups.”
“And your parents found out?”
“Yeah, because I texted them photos and videos.”
A startled laugh burst from me. Then I let go, my shoulders shaking. “You’re serious?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t send them any naked photos. Well, not ofme, anyway. But I definitely threw in some shots of me kissing other dudes. And I engaged in a lot of underage drinking, among other things.” He flashed an unrepentant smile. “Sorry, Mr. van der Meer.”
I shook my head as that smile sent blood streaking to my dick. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”
The defroster did its work, blasting two growing circles on the bottom of the windshield. Caleb looked out at the parking lot before turning back to me. “What about you?”
I’d known the question was coming. “Philippe was my first.”
“First man or first everything?”
