I take a deep breath. “So … uh, I got a new writing contract. I’m writing a book. A romance book. A spicy romance book, which—do you know what that means? It means there, uh, sex in it. Like, I have to write sex scenes.” I laugh, but it comes out strangled. “So, uh, that’s my current project I’m working on, but there’s a problem.”
Graham is nodding along, eyebrows furrowed, certainly trying to figure out what the hell this has to do with him.
“The problem, uh …” I huff out a humorless laugh, “… is that I’m—I can’t exactly write the sex scenes I’ve been contracted to write because I’ve never … I … I’m a virgin,” I finish, the last word coming out nearly as a squeak.
Graham blinks at me, much like he did at the door. Silence settles between us, and as the seconds tick by, I feel like I might just melt into the floor and die.
And finally, Graham opens his mouth … andlaughs. It’s a short chuckle, but loud, and he throws his head back momentarily.
Sheer and utter humiliation washes through me so fast it almost knocks me off my feet, and before I can even think through what I’m doing, I’m bolting past him toward the door.
Chapter seven
Graham
When I realize that Delilah is no longer standing in front of me and is, instead, running toward the front door, I spin after her.
“Delilah?” I mutter in confusion. And then, louder, “Delilah!”
But she’s not looking at me. Without thinking, I reach for her, grasping her wrist and halting her in her tracks. She spins to look at me, and in a fraction of a second, I realize my mistake.
Holy fucking shit.
“Delilah, I thought you werekidding,” I say, all traces of previous amusement gone. “Are you … not?”
Her cheeks redden ever so slightly, and that’s enough of an answer right there. “No, I’m not kidding,” she snaps, trying to yank her wrist free of my grip. But I hold fast, assuming she’s going to try and bolt again—and we’re not going to have a repeat of last week where Delilah leaves crying and I leave confused.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I thought you were joking.”
“You said that already,” she mutters, her voice thick with what I suspect might be unshed tears. Fuck.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” I protest. “Just the idea because—”
“You already said it, I get it—I’m a joke,” she cries, yanking harder on her wrist. I could easily keep her here, but I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself, so I reluctantly let go.
“No, not that you’re a virgin—Jesus,” I mutter as she spins toward the door again. But I span the distance between us, reaching over her just as she reaches the doorknob, holding it closed.
She glares up at me over her shoulder. “Let me leave, Graham,” she snaps.
“Not until we talk about this like adults,” I say as calmly as I can. As confusing as our interaction last week was, this one is even more so. “For starters, whatever I said that upset you last week, I’m sorry. And for laughing just now, I’m sorry too.”
She opens her mouth, but I cut her off.
“I was laughing, not because you’re a joke, but because the idea of no man ever wanting you before now is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”
She stills, not meeting my eyes, simply gazing down at the floor.
“If I let go of the door, do you promise to stay and talk with me?” I say quietly.
She pauses and then nods.
“Okay,” I mutter, stepping back.
While Delilah turns around, she still refuses to meet my gaze. We stand in silence for a few seconds before I awkwardly motion toward the couch. “Do you want to sit down? Maybe finish your story?” It just now dawns on me that this information was conveyed as a precursor to some favor she wanted to ask of me. What in the hell kind of favor this is I cannot fathom.
Delilah nods stiffly and walks past me, taking a seat on the couch. I take the seat on the other end, careful to give her space. “Okay,” I say softly, still reeling from this new information. Delilah Slater has never had sex. Delilah who-looks-like-thatSlater. Suddenly her insistence last week about not dating makes sense. She really meant it. She doesn’t date. “Do you want to continue?”
She takes in a breath that looks practically pained. She closes her eyes briefly. “Like I was saying, I’ve been contracted to write a romance novel, which means writing sex scenes, and I’ve never had sex.”
