“And that makes it okay?” he asks, still laughing at my attempts to get the book.
“No—definitely not. In real life I’d be horrified. But this is a book. And books are…different.” That last word comes out like a grunt as I manage to latch onto the book and valiantly rip it from his hand. I hold it over my head—breathing like I just finished a triathlon. I smile victoriously. “You lose!”
And then we both realize I’m straddling him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Annie
My smile slowly fades as the playfulness in the air dissipates and reality grabs hold of me. Will is currently horizontal on his back, and my legs are on either side of him. On my bed. His face sobers as our eyes connect. Heat and something fierce that I’m terrified to admit is want zips through me. Will’s hands are still above his head, and my eyes drop to where the cap of his sleeve has bunched up over his shoulder, proving that his tattoos do continue up past his bicep. But how far? To what end? I need to know.
Will’s eyes blaze, knowing exactly what I’m wanting. “Go ahead.”
I briefly look to his eyes—making sure he really gave me permission. He nods once. And then with shaking hands, I brush the hem of his shirt before grasping it as lightly as humanly possible to push it up. Slowly his skin is revealed like a curtain rising to display a million-dollar art installation. A taut, smooth, defined abdomen, followed by a chiseled chest and—gasp!—a peek of inked foliage across his left pec. He flexes his stomach muscles lightly, and I’m not sure if it’s in an attempt to impress me or because my hands are cold. Either way, it’s quite the sight.
Will abruptly sits up, and my breath catches as I fear he’s going to push me off or say he’s offended at how bold and handsy I’m being.
But he doesn’t.
He lifts his arms in the air for me to continue peeling the shirt completely from his body. A thrill surges through me.
When it’s off, Will and I are face-to-face, and his bare torso and shoulders and chest are all here too. Skin. Warm male skin right here for me to touch. I lift my hand to press into his chest and hesitate. My hands shake and my nerves tell me this is wrong. I shouldn’t be able to do this or to enjoy it. I’m Annie Walker! Annie Walker is sweet. Annie Walker doesn’t even desire these sorts of encounters. Annie Walker is—
Will’s hand covers mine as he presses it to his skin. I give in and shut my eyes from how incredible this feels. But now all I want is more. Slowly my hands memorize the feel of his raised tattooed skin and marvel that it has a texture—a memory. I glide my fingers delicately up and over his shoulder, stopping to feel his prominent collarbone along the way and then the curve of his neck all the way up into the back of his rebellious hair. Will’s face turns and his jaw presses into my palm. Something is happening between us, and I’m incapable of stopping it.
His hands are on my hips now—fixed there, unmoving. “Annie…” Will says quietly. “I need to ask—you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
The truth falls between us.
I swallow and wish more than anything I could lie. Or maybe I don’t. “Yes. How’d you know?”
“Well,” he says with a crooked smile. “For one, your reputation. And two…the way you kissed me the other night.” He pauses and I’m terrified he’s going to say he knew from how bad it was. How inexperienced. But then the corners of his mouth curve and his grip tightens. “You were so responsive, like you were experiencing passion for the first time. It was incredible.”
My face heats and I drop my gaze. But Will touches my face, angling it back toward him. “Is there a reason you’ve been waiting?”
The quiet presses in around us, but I don’t feel uncomfortable. I feel completely safe with Will just like I always do. I normally shy away from this topic at all costs because, honestly, it’s embarrassing; but now that it’s out in the open with him, I feel nothing but relief.
“I’ve been waiting because I’ve been too scared.” I say those words out loud for the first time in my life, never really knowing until this moment the reason why. “Actually, I’m not even sure scared is the right word. I’ve just never known anyone who made me feel safe enough to share that part of myself with them.”
I’ve always been made to feel like my virginity was silly—not that my siblings have ever said that in so many words, but they’ve said it in the little jabs about how angelic I am. How I’m the only one of us who will likely make it through the pearly gates. Like somehow my need to wait was just me trying to prove I was sweeter and holier than everyone else because I don’t succumb to desires and needs like everyone else.