Page 51 of The Image of You

“My first time, with my boyfriend Ben, wasn’t enjoyable.”

“I don’t think any woman’s first time is,” I agreed. I tried to keep my voice even. I hated, loathed, the thought of her with anyone else, but I had to ask. “But you tried again?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “We did. We tried a few days later. But I think he was so afraid of hurting me that he treated me like spun glass—as if I would shatter any second. It hardly felt as though he was touching me, and I wasn’t, ah, ready…and, yeah, it wasn’t good. And we broke up not long after. He said it wasn’t anything to do with what happened, but I’m not stupid. Who wants to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t respond to you sexually?”

I could hear the mortification in her voice. Between the way her parents second-guessed every decision she made, criticized her, and how her jackass of a boyfriend had treated her, she had no confidence in this area of her life. Not to mention the “fake” relationship she’d had with Bradley. She had no idea how truly sexy she was.

“Nightingale,” I called quietly. When she didn’t respond, I tried again. “Ally—look at me.”

I waited until she looked up to speak. “Your so-called boyfriend was an idiot,” I stated flatly. “Obviously, he had no idea how to please you, and instead of manning up and doing something about it, he walked,” I insisted. “He probably had as much experience as you did and didn’t want to say that out loud.”

She frowned. “He had other girlfriends.”

“Was he your first boyfriend?”

“No. I had one other in high school. It wasn’t much of a relationship—not at that age. I was too young and naïve for that, and with the restrictions I had, well, it never had a chance.” She shrugged self-consciously.

“So Ben, he was the first man you slept with?”

“Yes. I wasn’t ready before.” She sighed. “I don’t think I was ready then either. But he kept at me.”

“Maybe it was the same for him.”

Her eyes widened. “I never thought of that. He never said—he kept pushing…”

“He wouldn’t, would he? He wanted you to think he was experienced.” I smiled knowingly. “Of course he kept pushing. I mean, look at you.”

“What?”

“He wanted you. The same way Bradley does.”

She shook her head. “Bradley has never tried anything like that with me. I just assumed…”

“You assumed wrong. He was just playing the game, hoping to wear you down. Trust me, he wants you.”

I moved closer. “I want you. I want you so fucking much, I ache with it.” I sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right—you weren’t ready. He wasn’t the right man for you. Neither was Bradley.”

“And you are?”

“Yes,” I stated with conviction. “I am.”

“What if I disappoint you?”

“Impossible. We’ll learn together. I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t what? Tell me,” I demanded.

“I don’t want to be treated like glass all the time.”

I laughed, the low sound rumbling in my chest as I shook my head. “I don’t plan on it. When I make you mine, you’re going to feel it—I promise you that.”

A small whimper escaped her lips. Her chest was moving rapidly, her skin flushing the pretty petal color I loved. It tinted her cheeks and swept down her neck, covering her chest. I wanted to know how far down that color went—if her skin was warm when my tongue dragged across the surface. If I could make the color deepen the way her eyes were darkening as she looked at me.

“There are so many things I want to do with you,” I assured her and licked my lips as I stared at her, my voice husky. “To you.”

“Tell me,” she implored, curling her fingers into fists at her sides.