“Nothing,” I squeal. “It’s the perfect size for my needs.”
He snickers, then rolls over so we’re face-to-face again and slips one leg between both of mine. “I haven’t done this before,” he admits. “You know, lie around naked with a girl, just talking.”
“I haven’t done the naked part, but my high school boyfriend and I did the lying around talking thing all the time.”
“What’d you talk about?”
“Everything. School. Life. TV shows. Whatever came to mind.”
“Why’d you guys break up?”
“Brandon got a scholarship to UCLA, I got one to Briar, and we didn’t want to have a long-distance relationship. Those never work out.”
“They do sometimes,” he disagrees.
“I guess. But neither of us wanted to even try, so…” I sigh. “So evidently we didn’t have a romance for the ages.”
“How come you never had sex?” Logan asks curiously.
“I don’t know. Just didn’t happen. And it didn’t help that we hardly ever got to be alone. My dad had a strict rule about me leaving my bedroom door open, and Brandon’s parents were even stricter. We weren’t even allowed to hang out upstairs. It had to be in the living room, with his mother spying on us from the kitchen.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “I find it hard to believe that you couldn’t find some alone time in—how long were you together?”
“Six months. And yeah, obviously there were times, but like I said, it just didn’t happen.”
One large hand covers my breast, squeezing gently. “Are you saying he seriously never tried to get a piece of this? Maybe he was gay?”
“Trust me, he wasn’t. He’s actually married now.”
Logan’s jaw falls open. “Really? Was he older than you?”
“Nope, same age. Apparently he fell head over heels in love with some girl on the first day of college, and they got married this summer. His mother told my dad all about it.”
I shiver when the pad of his thumb grazes my nipple, but he doesn’t seem to be starting anything up. His cheek rests against the pillow, his features relaxed as he absently caresses me.
“Did you have a girlfriend in high school?” I ask.
He waggles his eyebrows. “I had many.”
“Oooh, what a stud.”
“There were two serious girlfriends, though. The first one was in freshman year. I lost my virginity to her.”
“How old were you? Fifteen?”
“Fourteen.” He winks at me. “I started early. That’s why I’m so good at it.”
I roll my eyes. “And so humble, too.” I stop to think about it. “Fourteen seems way too young to be having sex.”
“I don’t know if you could even call what we did sex,” he answers with a snort. “The first time lasted about three seconds, if that. Seriously, I got in, came, got out. The times after that, it was ten seconds. If that. I was such a horndog I couldn’t control myself when she took her clothes off.”
“What about the second girlfriend?”
“That’s when I was a junior. We dated for about a year. She was a great girl, kind of spoiled, but I didn’t mind because I liked spoiling her.” He frowns. “She cheated on me with an older guy. Actually, I think he went to Briar.”
“Aw, I’m sorry.”
“Broke my fucking heart.” He gives an exaggerated groan of pain, then takes my hand and places it on his chest. “I’ve waited years for someone to show up and put it back together.”
I groan, too. From the sheer lameness of that statement. “You should have put that line in your poem.”
“I’ll write you another one,” he promises.
“Oh God. Please don’t.” A yawn overtakes me, and I twist around to glance at the alarm clock, surprised to find that it’s only ten-fifteen. “Why am I so tired?”
“I wore you out, huh?” He smiles smugly. “I was afraid I might’ve lost my moves during my CS, but I’ve still got it.”
“CS?” His abbreviations drive me nuts sometimes. I’m praying one of these days I’ll be able to figure them out on my own.
“Celibacy stretch,” he explains.
“It’s only been three weeks, horndog.”
“Actually, it’s been…six months?”
My eyebrows soar. “You haven’t had sex in six months?”