“Yes.”
“Too much?”
Her answer comes quick. “No.”
I touch my forehead to hers again, trying to steady myself.
There’s something I need to say before this goes farther. Something that ought to send her running if she’s got any sense.
“I haven’t done this before.”
She blinks. “Done what before?”
“Kissed women, yeah. Wanted them, sure. But this.” I force the words out. “I was engaged once. Figured my first time would be with my wife.”
Her whole face changes. Something soft moves through it.
“You’re a virgin,” she whispers.
I nod once.
For the first time all night, Weston Stark feels about sixteen years old.
Then Lexie lets out the smallest, most relieved little laugh.
My brow furrows. “What?”
Her hands slide up my chest and rest there. “So am I.”
Everything in me goes still.
“You’re telling me,” I say carefully, “that no man has ever had you?”
Her lashes flutter. “No.”
A dangerous kind of satisfaction rolls through me. Fierce. Possessive. Almost enough to make me bare my teeth.
I don’t. Barely.
Instead, I cup the back of her neck and look at her the way I want to touch her.
“Lexie.”
She shivers.
“If we do this,” I say, “I’m taking my time.”
Her breath leaves in a shaky rush.
“Okay.”
“I’m not giving you anything rough. Yet.”
Another nod.
“I’m making it good for you.”
Her lips part.
