"Please." I twist, reaching for his belt, my hands shaking. "I want you. I want?—"
And then the reality of what I'm doing hits me like a bucket of cold water.
I'm about to lose my virginity to a man who isn't my fiancé. In a library. During a storm. Without protection, without thought, without any consideration for the consequences. I'm about to throw away everything—my engagement, my reputation, my family's expectations—for a few moments of pleasure with a man I barely know.
The impending orgasm vanished. My body goes cold, and I feel suddenly sick. Shocked and horrified at what I’ve allowed myself to do.
"Stop." I push at his chest, suddenly frantic. "Stop, we can't—I can't?—"
He steps back immediately, his hands leaving my body. "Okay. It's okay. We'll stop."
"I have to go." I pull my skirt down with shaking hands, trying to straighten my clothes in the darkness. "I have to—I need to leave."
"Savannah, there’s a shelter-in-place order—" He sounds genuinely alarmed, as if he’s worried for me.
"I don't care." I'm backing away from him, tears spilling over the edge of my lashes. "I can't be here. I can't—what did I just do? Oh God, what did I just do?"
"Hey." His voice is gentle. "It's okay. We didn't—nothing happened that you didn't want?—"
"That's the problem!" The words come out as a sob. "I wanted it. I wanted all of it. I wanted—" I can't finish. I can't admit out loud that I started begging him to take my virginity against a bookshelf in a dark library.
"Savannah—"
"I'm engaged." I'm crying in earnest now. "I'm engaged to someone else, and I just—I let you?—"
"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have?—"
"No." I shake my head even though he can't see me in the darkness. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I wanted it. I wanted you. And that makes me—" I can't even say it.
"It makes you someone who's allowed to want things. To feel things. To choose?—"
A choked sound leaves my lips. "I have to go."
And I run.
I run through the dark library, down the stairs, past the startled librarian at the front desk who calls after me about the shelter order. I run out into the storm, into the rain that's still coming down in sheets, into the wind that nearly knocks me over. I run all the way home, my clothes soaked through and my hair plastered to my face, and my body still aching with unfulfilled desire.
I make it to my dorm and lock the door behind me, sliding down to sit on the floor with my back against it. I'm shaking from cold and shock, and from the aftermath of what just happened.
I let Romeo touch me. I let him make me come. Twice. I begged him for more. I was seconds away from letting him take my virginity in a library during a thunderstorm.
What is wrong with me?
I should feel guilty. I should feel ashamed. I should be horrified by my own behavior. And Iam. But I also feel… alive. Or at least, for a moment, I did.
For the first time in my life, I felt truly, completely alive. Like my body was my own. Like my pleasure mattered. Like I was allowed to want something just because I wanted it, not because it was expected or appropriate or proper.
I strip off my wet clothes and take a hot shower, but I can still feel Romeo's hands on me, still hear his voice in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am, how perfect. I can still feel the echo of that pleasure, that overwhelming sensation of coming apart in his arms.
I should call Thad. I should confess. I should?—
But I don't. I can't.
Instead, I lie in bed in the darkness, listening to the storm rage outside, and I think about Romeo and the way he kissed me, the way he touched me like I was precious, like my pleasure was the most important thing in the world.
And about the way he stopped the moment I asked him to, even though I could feel how much he wanted to continue.
My body is still aching for him, still wanting more. I can still vividly remember the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against mine.
