Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
He ripped his mouth from mine, eyeballing me hard. We stared at each other, panting. I had no idea what I was doing. I kept my hand on his penis and rubbed a little, like I did when my cat, Semus, asked for a head rub.
His dick twitched, pushing against my palm appreciatively. Row dropped his forehead to mine, letting loose a low grumble that reverberated inside my chest. “Fuck, Dot. Your goddamn existence turns me on. Your mere breathing makes my balls tingle.”
Whoa. Men said crazy things to get laid. Did women know about this? We could’ve collectively prevented wars. Gone on reckless shopping sprees at Target.
There was something about the fact he called me Dot that sent pleasurable shivers up and down my back. Dylan had come up with the nickname because when we were little, four or five, she couldn’t remember the word freckle, so she’d named me after the galaxy of star-shaped dots peppered across my nose. The nickname had stuck.
I unglued my hand from his groin, wrapping my fingers along the lapels of his leather jacket, pulling him to me. He smelled delicious. Of cedar, worn leather, and spices. Of an entire foreign land full of Michelin-starred restaurants, romantic chansons, glass chandeliers, and thick, dusty French books. And yet, strangely, also…like home.
“Row?”
“Yeah?”
“As you know, I have…uhm…” Social anxiety from hell.
“A healthy aversion to strangers,” he mumbled into my skin, biting the side of my jaw softly. “Understandable. I’m not a fan of humans myself.” He rubbed the sensitive spot behind my ear with his thumb. “If you want to stop—”
“No!” I cried out. This was the first time I was actually having fun being with a guy. Well, it was kind of the only time I’d been with a guy since…since. “I want you to take my virginity,” I choked out, my lips latching onto his. I was shaking with panic, adrenaline, and the morning chill. “Be my first.” This wasn’t planned in any way. I’d never dreamt of seducing Dylan’s brother. But now that it was just the two of us, I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to do it with.
“Dot.” His fingers were buried in my hair as he ravaged me with his expert mouth. Without finesse, without game, without the untouchable coolness he normally carried himself with. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”
I’d never seen Row so authentic, so final, so…out of control. He was usually unruffled and composed; I felt so drunk with power, my head spun.
“Please,” I croaked. “I know what I want.”
“And what is it that you want?”
“You.”
He tore his mouth from mine, his hooded, golden eyes of a ravening tiger studying me. “From one to ten, how sure are you? Ten is without-a-doubt confident, and one is forget-what-I-said-and-take-me-home.”
“Twelve.” I blinked excessively, maybe seven or eight times in a row. It happened when I was anxious. A nervous tic I’d developed when I was four and never gotten rid of. Contrary to general belief, this didn’t fall into Tourette’s category. It was a chronic tic disorder. My way to wear my heart on my sleeve and show people how nervous I was.
“Are you sure you want me to take your V-card?” His eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, Row, I’m sure. Who else would I give it to? Some trust fund baby from SUNY? Someone with a broccoli haircut? A guy who doesn’t even care about me and would make me sit in his dorm room and listen to his experimental techno music?” Technically, Row didn’t care either. But I knew he’d never ridicule or tease me. He had a history of making me feel safe, and feeling safe wasn’t something I was used to.
His mouth slacked, and I could tell he wanted to refuse my request. He probably thought I was odd. Just like everyone else in this small town.
“Why?” His thick eyebrows nose-dived. I decided to give him the truth. He deserved it, after all.
“Because I have…” Severe androphobia. “Trust issues, and I know I’d never regret you. You’re the only guy I know who is fuckable and not a fuckup. Make sense?”
“I’m a major fuckup.” He ran his fingers over my side bangs, tucking the hair behind my ear. “But too fucking selfish not to fuck you. It’s going to hurt, you know.” He gave me a cool once-over. “The first time, anyway. It’ll get better the more times—”
“There won’t be more times,” I interrupted him. I appreciated him pretending it wasn’t a one-night stand, but that wasn’t necessary. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
His desire-drunk expression melted into a frown. “I’m not saying that to make you feel better. I’m saying that because fucking you is probably all I’ll want to do once we start.”
“Row, this has to be a one-time thing. Dylan can’t know. Please.” I placed my palms over his chest. I was a coward and a cheat, and in that moment, I hated myself more than Dylan could if she ever found out. And still, he was my one shot at not dying a virgin.