“I was naked and you wouldn’t even look at me,” I start. I close my eyes.

“I didn’t want to disrespect you,” he says.

He rocks his hips against me again, and this time the length of him notches against my cleft. My breath catches.

“I want you so bad it hurts.” His voice is quiet, and harder to understand than it normally is.

“You didn’t even look at me,” I protest.

He sits up on his knees and lifts my leg up by his shoulder. He’s not looking at my body. “You have pink toenail polish. And you have a bit of stubble on your legs.” He grins. “You can use my razor if you want.” His hand slides up my calf, toward my knee, leaving a wake of goose bumps behind. “Your thighs are firm, and you have a generous flare to your hips. His hand slips to the front of my panties, where he drags his thumb back and forth for a moment. “You have this tiny dusting of hair, here.” His thumb presses against my cleft and I arch my back to press harder against him. He chuckles. His hands drift up my sides, lifting the shirt. He tugs it up, until it rests just beneath my br**sts. He presses a kiss to my belly. My ni**les are hard and standing tall. He licks his lips. “Your ni**les are pink and puffy and perfect. And your br**sts will fit in my hands.” He throws the shirt back down, groaning as he lies back down on top of me, rocking his length against me again. “I saw everything,” he says. “I was just trying to be a gentleman.” He laughs. “You thought I didn’t look.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Silly woman,” he scolds.

“You looked.” That’s all I can say. And it comes out as a croak. Thank God he can’t hear the quiver in my voice.

“I looked,” he admits. “You were naked. And so f**king beautiful that I could barely breathe. Of course, I looked.”

“You look at a lot of naked women?” I don’t want the answer to that question after it’s out of my mouth.

“Not anymore,” he breathes against my lips. His lips touch mine, tentatively, and then he retreats. He’s making me crazy. His hips press insistently, pushing him closer and closer to my heat. “I haven’t seen a single naked woman since the day I met you.”

“Do you want to see any naked women?” I ask. My voice is still doing that quavery thing. His hand lies on my throat, almost like he’s listening with his fingertips for the sound of my voice.

He shakes his head, looking directly into my eyes. “Just one.”

I reach down to tug his shirt over my head, but he stops me with a grunt.

“What?” I ask.

He looks into my eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks.

This time, it’s me who throws her arm over her eyes. I want to scream. I can’t tell him anything. “I can’t tell you,” I say.

He tugs the shirt back down around my hips. “Then your clothes stay on.” He kisses me, his lips nibbling at mine until I’m breathless. “And so do mine.”

“Your brother said you should f**k me and get it over with.”

He heaves a sigh. “That’s because he thinks I’ll f**k you and not want to see you anymore. But I can assure you, that’s not the case.” He presses against me again, rocking against my cleft, the ridge of his manhood pressing against my softness. “Once I get to be inside you, I’ll never want to give you up.” He kisses the side of my neck, suckling gently as he moves across the front of my throat. His five o’clock shadow abrades my tender skin. But I don’t want him to stop.

I reach down to cup him through his jeans, and he stills.

“Don’t play with me,” he warns. His voice is strong but quiet. “If you want to be my friend, you can be my friend. We can sleep in the same bed, we can have meals together, and we can spend time doing things we both like.”

I lift his head so that he’s looking at me. “I want to be your friend,” I say.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“What does that mean?” I cry, slapping the bed with my open palms in frustration.

He looks confused. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s the same as being my friend, but I get to make you come.” He rocks against me once again. Then he lifts away. I want to scream.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the blanket off the couch. Unless you want me to sleep out there?” He looks unsure.

I want him inside me. But that’s not going to happen. “Go get the blanket,” I grumble. He chuckles and leaves the room.

My panties are wet. Soaked. I reach into my bag and put on a fresh pair. I’m adjusting them over my hips when he walks back in the room.

“Fresh panties,” I explain. “All your fault,” I taunt.

He groans, and flops back on the bed. “Why did you have to tell me that?” he asks. He lays there for a minute with his hands clenched. Then he motions me forward and pulls my head down to lie on his chest. He takes a deep breath and hugs me to him tightly, then releases me and relaxes. He picks up a book from beside his night stand and holds it in one hand. He reads quietly to himself.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

He looks down at it and tells me the title. “Will you read it to me?” I ask.

He lifts his head long enough to look at my face and finds that I’m serious. I can learn. And I love books. I just can’t read them. I have an amazing memory.

“Start at the beginning?” I ask.