Page 71 of The Write Stuff

I tried again. “Wylie.” Gently, I nudged her chin in my direction and waited until she locked gazes with me.

Finally, she did.

“You weren’t a virgin before last night, were you?” The mere thought filled me with horror. I would have done so many things differently if I’d known. Heck, I wouldn’t have let it get that far. Not on the first date, for crying out loud.

“No.” She looked offended by the question. “Of course not.”

I cocked my head and stared hard. If she was lying, I was never going to get over it. “Are you sure?”

She let loose a heaving sound. “Good grief. I wasn’t a virgin. I just didn’t have a lot of experience.”

“What’s not a lot of experience?”

“I don’t know. I had three boyfriends I … did the deed with.”

“Did the deed?” I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. “Is that what you call it?”

“I don’t really talk about it that often, so I don’t really call it anything.” She gave me a stern look. “I wasn’t a virgin. I just wasn’t that into sex because I didn’t think it could be as good as it was last night.”

That made me want to puff myself out … and track down every guy she’d ever been with and kill them. “Um … does that mean you … what does that mean?”

She let loose another eye roll. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we talk about something else?”

“No.” I shook my head. “We really can’t.” I was going to have to ask the question. “Have you ever orgasmed before?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Yes!”

I remained suspicious. “With somebody else?”

“That’s not what you originally asked.”

Briefly, I pressed my eyes shut. She’d been with three guys, and none of them had fulfilled her. That meant I was on the hook for mankind everywhere. I kind of liked the idea of it. Did I want that pressure? Apparently, I did because my hands moved to her bare hips, and I started rubbing.

“You should have told me last night,” I admonished in a soft voice. “I know that you were probably embarrassed —”

“Um, yeah.” She bobbed her head.

“We need to be able to talk about this stuff, though,” I pressed.

She sighed, and it reminded me of her mother for a moment, which had me grinning. “I figured you just had so much practice that you were really good at it.”

“Do you think I’m a gigolo or something?”

“Gigolo?” She made a face. “I’m fairly positive I’ve never used that word before.”

I didn’t want to smile — it would only encourage her to keep being adorable — but I couldn’t help myself. “We need to be able to talk about this stuff without you turning the color of a tomato.”

She sighed. “Fine. How many women have you been with?”

I didn’t like that question, especially because I wasn’t certain of the answer. “Let’s just say that I’ve been with a decent amount of women, but none of them compare to you.”

“Oh, so sweet.” She poked my side. “I don’t believe that, though. I felt as if I was flailing about last night. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You were great.” It wasn’t a lie. I’d had no idea that she wasn’t all that experienced.

“You were great, too.” Her smile was what sunshine and rainbows were made of.

“Thank you.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “You still should have told me.”