Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(40)

There must be a look on my face, because he quickly adds, "I like you more?"

Just a hint of a question in his voice.

I force my expression neutral. "What was it like?"

He shrugs, and I shift my weight on top of him.

"Do you really…"

"Yes."

"Okay, it was… she was better at it than I was. She was a stripper, not a prostitute or something, she was just older, wiser. I had no idea what I was doing. She taught me how to, um, do stuff."

"Do. Stuff."

My lips twitch. I force myself not to grin with all my might.

"Yeah, she made it last. Made the moment last. I wasn't in love with her or anything but she was… experienced."

"I'm, uh, not."

He smirks. "You learn fast."

Finally I break out in a grin. "Do I now."

I sit up. "She took charge, huh?"

"Yeah," he swallows, his voice tight.

One of the advantages of sleeping naked is waking up naked. He stares at my chest, his hands slowly moving up my sides, until I catch his forearms in my hands and hold him still.

"Did she start on top? Like this?"

"Y-yeah, actually."

"Were you in the champagne room?"

He bursts out laughing and I bounced up and down with the force of it.

"No, we were at her apartment. It's not like TV, Diana. They don't have sex with guys at the club. It's just a job, I swear. I've never met a stripper who did anything more than grind."

"Except the one that took your virginity."

He sighs, obviously exasperated.

"Yeah, she was on top."

"Like this," I murmur again, and move my hips in a circle. His hands move closer to my breasts.

"Yeah, a lot like that." His voice sounds tighter now, like his throat has gone dry.

"She taught you everything?"

"Most of it. She liked to give a lot of, ah, directions."

I smirk at him. "Really. So you picked up the other tricks from other girls, huh?"

"Yeah."

"How many."

"I'm not sure," he says, looking away. "At least… uh…"

"At least?"

He's actually blushing, "I didn't, um, keep count, it's not like…"

"Too many to count?"

I shift off of him and drop on the bed beside him.

"Look…"

I turn away, wrapping my arms over myself. I tense as he rolls up to my back and throws his arm over me, and presses his face in to my hair again.

"I've had sex with a lot of girls. It was a good time, and then it was over."

"Are we having a good time? Is that why you don't want to have sex with me? Because then it's over?"

"No," he sighs. "It's different with you."

"I bet you always say that."

He tenses, and goes quiet.

"No. I've never said that before. I don't use lines. I could walk up to any woman I want and say 'wanna f*ck' and they'd follow me someplace private."

"So I'm just an easy target, then. Must be those eyes of yours."

"My eyes are nothing next to yours," he murmurs, and his hand slides up my stomach to cup my breast. He whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my skin, and tickling. My lips twitch. "Brown and green. You have heterochromia. First thing I noticed about you."

"Is that a checkmark on your bucket list? Blonde, brunette, redhead, mismatched eyes…"

His arms tighten around me. "No. It's not like that. I've…" he trails off. "I can't say it without sounding stupid and cliche. I don't know how to say it."

"What?"

"You're different. When I saw you I didn't want anybody else anymore. I don't know if I can want anybody else anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know where this is going. I can't… if I was your first and I had to leave, or I hurt you…" he sighs. "If I hurt you that way I couldn't live with myself. I can't live with myself. I don't belong in this place, with you."

I wriggle a little so he loosens his grip and turn around.

He can't be faking this. The look of anguish on his face makes me wrap my arms around his neck and pull his face to my chest. I pull the sheet up over us and feel his breath tickling the skin between my breasts as his arms tighten around my waist.

"I don't know what's happening," he whispers.

"I don't either. Apollo," I sigh. "I'm not an idiot. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, there's-"

I cut him off. "Why would you have to leave? How would you have to hurt me?"

"I can't…"

I pull back, sit up, and tuck the sheet under my arms, covering myself. I wrap it around my back, too, pulling it off him. He sits up.

"They're getting on a flight soon," he says. "Your mother. My father."

Deep breath.

"I'm going to tell my mother I'm going to a school of my choice," I say, slowly. "I'm going to follow my own path in life. I'm going to be my own person."