I flip onto my back with a groan, my body a livewire. I kick the blankets off, trying to cool myself down, but it's no use.
Is he really a virgin?
It's hard to imagine that someone who looks like him, someone his age, someone with his status and his options would just…wait. And yet, I don't think he was lying.
Briggs Ward is a virgin.
And God help me, but there's something attractive about that. It's not that he's untouched or pure or any of that nonsense. I don't care about that. It's that he's confident enough in his own skin, in his own needs, and in his vision for his future to hold steady. Not many people could.
But he does. He has.
I'm living proof that sex and love aren't the same thing. I didn't love Daniel. I liked him a lot. I was eighteen, and sex seemed like the natural progression of a relationship at the time.
Looking back afterward, I realized how wrong I was about that…how much I ignored the little voice saying I wasn't ready yet. But at the time? I thought it was the next logical step, that it's what I had to do to get from point A to point B.
God knows, I'm not the only one. The pressure to have sex is intense in college. If you aren't doing it, there's something wrong with you. If you're doing it too much, there's something wrong with you. It's like there is no right choice, and we all just flounder around, trying to figure it out. We're not allowed to make the decision that's rightfor uswithout someone having an opinion because they would have chosen differently.
But people like Briggs? They know themselves enough to know what's rightfor them. They trust themselves enough to make thedecisions that are rightfor them. And they listen to that little voice when it speaks.
Yeah, that's attractive. It's attractive as hell.
I wish I'd had that confidence and wisdom at eighteen. At twenty-four, I still don't have it. Not yet. I've avoided dating, afraid to fuck it up again.
A soft sound whispers through the vent separating my room from the guest room, so faint I think maybe I imagined it at first, or maybe that it's just him shifting around in his sleep. And then I hear it again, a little louder this time.
"Tia."
My heart thuds against my breastbone, jolting so strongly it's like an electric shock to my system.
Is he dreaming about me right now?
"Tia. Fuck, just like that," he groans, his voice muffled.
Oh.
Oh, my god.
I bite my lip, trying to stifle a whimper, trying not to breathe so I can hear him better. I don't think he's asleep. He's moving around on the bed, his voice louder now.
"Goddamn, beautiful. That hand feels so perfect on my cock," he groans.
I whimper out loud this time, my back arching from the bed. He isn't asleep. There's no way. He's…
"Work me just like that," he groans. "Touch yourself. Let me see you."
I freeze, my breath escaping in a stuttering rush. And then my hand slips down my body. I know he can't see me. I don't even think he's really talking to me, but I slide my hand into my panties anyway.
"Briggs," I whimper, shocked at how wet I am. At how loud I am. I can't stop myself, though. He's on the other side of the wall, getting himself off while thinking about me. Iwanthimto know that I hear him. Iwanthim to know that I'm touching myself, too.
"That's it, beautiful," he groans. "Let me hear you."
I still don't know if he's talking to me or his fantasy…but I moan for him anyway. I fuck my fingers for him, too, imagining that it's him, not just his voice, but his fingers.
"That's it, Tia," he croons. "Keep moaning for me. Keep touching yourself for me."
Even though we're in different rooms, the doors closed between us, it feels like he's right here, guiding me through it.
I rock against my hand faster, my breath coming in sharp pants.
