Page 116 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“Alright.”

I pull the covers back and slip in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael asks as we settle in.

“Tell you what?” I fuss with the pillows, tugging one higher, and then the other.

“Katie.” His hand closes around my wrist, not tight, but enough to stop me. “Look at me.”

I glance over. “What?”

His eyes don’t move. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

My stomach drops.

“I don’t know,” I say, too fast, already pulling my hand back.

“Don’t do that.”

I sit back against the headboard and cross my arms, staring straight ahead. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth would be a start.”

“I didn’t want to.” The words come out flat and stubborn.

Silence stretches, and I feel him watching me.

“Why?”

Because it makes me feel small. Because it makes me feel inexperienced. Because it makes me feel like I’m about to be judged.

“Because people don’t typically react normally to a twenty-four-year-old virgin,” I say instead.

“I’m not people.”

I glance at him. “You’re still a man.”

His eyes sharpen. “That’s not fair.”

I sigh. “Michael, you’re a man. A MAN.”

His hand slides along my thigh. “Yeah?”

“All I’ve ever dated are guys my age. Twenty-something douchebags who don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.” I hold his gaze. “You’re not that.”

“I’m still not understanding why you didn’t tell me,” he says, pulling me closer until I’m in his lap.

“Because I wanted you,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “And I was nervous you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

He looks at me like that makes no sense at all. His hand comes up, brushing my curls back behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

“Doll,” he murmurs, “you think I would’ve cared if you were a virgin or if you’d been with a hundred guys? I wanted you.”

“I know that now.”

“Did I not take care of you?”

I give him a small nod. “You did.”