“Deserve a lot more than that,” I murmured, kissing her head. “All right, so after that, you just…what?”
“You sound like you’re trying to solve a mystery,” she teased.
“Well, fuck me, I am. I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen has never had a man in her bed.” I froze, a thought hitting me. “Unless…”
She perked up. “Unless what?”
“Unless you’re bisexual and have only had women in your bed,” I guessed, scratching my beard. “Which, that would suck for me.”
“And why would that suck for you?” she purred.
“Because I’m a man. I can’t compete with other women, baby.”
“Oh, can you not?” she mused, giggling.
“No,” I shot back, tickling her side. “Have you seen women?”
She nodded, pursing her lips. “Oh, yeah, I have.”
I threw my hand out. “Case in point.”
We both laughed, and when the laughter died, she traced a heart over mine. “To answer your question, no, I am not bisexual. There was a point in my early twenties where I thought that I might be, but I tested that theory. It ended up being an awkward but healthy conversation.”
“I’m glad, baby.” I realized how that sounded.Oh, shit. “I’m not glad that you’re not bisexual; I’m glad you were in a healthy environment to discover that for yourself.”
She snuggled closer. “I knew what you meant, but thanks for explaining it.” I nudged her when she grew quiet again. “Hmm?”
“Not that I don’t love being the first and last man to be in your bed, beautiful, but I’m not afraid to beg for an explanation.”
“Do you need one?”
“Yes.”
She burst into laughter, rolling onto her back and covering her eyes with her arm. “Oh my god, Ash,” she whined. “You’re such a man.”
“Clearly,” I drawled. I cupped her breast. “Tell me.”
She peeked at me from under the crook of her arm. “It’s…it’s a weird reason.”
“I told you that you could tell me anything,” I reminded her. I stuck my bottom lip out. “I need you to tell me, for my ego’s sake.”
“You’re not supposed to listen to your ego,” she quipped.
I grinned. “Tell that to him.”
She rolled her eyes and dropped her arm onto the pillow. “Okay, fine,” she huffed. She rubbed her lips together for a second, as if trying to piece together the right thing to say. “Afterthe van…experience, I never really…something in my brain didn’t let me take men back to my dorm in college. We always went back to his, and in culinary school, I never had time for dating or even hookups. I was too tired, too overworked. I went through a dry spell. Skip past the dark and scary chapter of my life, and I just kind of got used to being alone.” Her eyes slid over to mine, and my jaw grew tight, seeing tears. “I got used to pleasuring myself, and last night, I realized that I can’t fully…I can’t let go unless I have some part in it.” She closed her eyes and turned her head, and I could taste shame in the air.
Absolutely not.
I was on top of her in the next second, falling between her legs, my half-hard cock against her thigh, my forearms caging her head in. “Look at me,” I ordered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, look at me,” I cooed, stroking her cheek.
She gave her golden honey eyes, and I dove in. “Last night was the best night of my life,” I admitted, my voice thick. “I’ve never had that with another woman. You gave me something special. What we shared can never be replicated.”
“What are you saying?”
