“Bronte…” He drew out my name like he was concerned. “When was the last time you had sex?”
Why did I suddenly feel like bursting into tears and confessing my lack of sins?
The embarrassment was so strong I wanted to grab the shovel, dig my own hole, and beg Drew to bury me.
“Bronte.” He pulled me into his arms. “It’s a safe space, remember?”
“It’s…” I tried and then wiped a stray tear that decided to make its way down my right cheek. “It’s been a while.”
“A while being… a year, two years, a decade?”
“The last time was the day before he left us when Amelia was around two.”
“Fourteen years,” he said through clenched teeth. “Fourteen?”
I winced. “Can you stop repeating it? And why is your math so fast?”
“What the hell was wrong with that asshole to even sleep with you before leaving? What did he do? Break you for all good men out there?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “What do you think?”
“I guess there’s only one thing left for you to do then,” he said softly.
I glanced up at him. “What?”
“Ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
He grabbed one of my hands, interlaced our fingers together, leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered, “Ask me to fuck you.”
CHAPTER 7
Andrew
Was it a hell of a gamble? That would be a yes.
Was I praying she’d say yes and feeling a bit blasphemous because of said prayer? Naturally.
Was I thinking of myself and only myself? Absolutely not. This was about her and only her, and I needed her to be on board before I lost my damn mind.
Fourteen years?
Not on my watch. Not. On. My. Watch.
Her green eyes didn’t leave mine. I prayed for those lips to part, for the answer to be yes, and knew in my soul that if she said no, I’d probably find a way to convince her she was wrong in every way.
She needed this.
You need this.
The voice taunted inside my head. I batted it away like the fly it was and waited, my stance tense.
She finally exhaled and looked away. “No, but thank you.”
Stunned speechless, it took me a few minutes to gather myself. “Did you just say no thank you to mind-blowing sex? As if I was just offering to help you with your groceries?”
She laughed. “You make it sound worse than it is.”
“Am I?” My eyebrows shot up. “Because I’m pretty sure that the guy you used to stare at when you were sixteen just said let me make all the pain go away and give you something to really focus on by way of pretty mind-blowing orgasms, and you just said, “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer though, champ!”
“Okay, first of all, I didn’t say champ,” she corrected with a sly grin. “Second, it’s not that I’m rejecting you, though I’m sure it’s never happened, and this is a shock to your ego.” She literally patted me on the thigh as if I was a toddler. “I just — I did the one-night stand. I did the whole ‘let’s have sex and throw caution to the wind,’ and I don’t want to do that again. Plus, we talked about this when we made this arrangement. You said I had to ask you, and I said no thank you. Ergo, we continue with our campout… unless you want to go pout in the tent for a minute. I’ll understand if you need a second to gather yourself after such a blow to your masculine sensitivities.”
I glared. “I’ve been rejected plenty of times.” Lie. “Or at least— Never mind, the point is, you need this.”
She licked her lips. “Do I need this? Or do you need this?”
“We both need this.” I clenched my jaw.
“I think… celibacy might be good for you.” She winked.
Ha, she didn’t even know the half of it.
Celibacy?
I’d been like a frigging priest for the last three years!
“I don’t like that word,” I grumbled.
“You’ll survive, I’m sure. There’s plenty of girls who would already be stripping down right now and asking if you wanted a free show.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, Bronte.” I leaned back on the blanket and sighed. “I don’t want those girls. I want this really bright, stunning woman sitting next to me, who just took my heart and obliterated it with a three-word refusal.”
“You have a heart?” she joked.
“Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes. “All right, so, no sex, which means I have to woo the shit out of you, which also means… music.”
I didn’t let her say no this time. Instead, I got up, grabbed my guitar, sat as close to her as humanly possible, made sure she was wrapped in another blanket and started strumming.
Something about the music instantly relaxed her, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head on her hands as if she couldn’t wait to hear what I had next.
I played a few chords, liking the way she was watching me more than I would ever admit to any of the guys lest they joke about it until my death. And then I started to sing.
It was one of the songs she’d inspired.
“Damned if I do,
This is something real, something new,
Damned if I don’t,
Because she won’t ever understand
That everything goes dark when I can’t hold her hand…”
I continued singing then just closed my eyes and went into the chorus.
“Nothing ordinary about this love,
When I kiss your lips, I taste the sweetest sin,
The need to give in,
To prove there’s nothing calm about the way my heart
Refuses to stop beating, needing, pursuing
Leading me to claim your mouth in a series of kisses
That a friend shouldn’t give,
But I would sell my soul, forfeit the will to live
For just one more…”
I hummed into the next verse and then finished the bridge. I hadn’t realized my eyes were still closed until I strummed the last chord and opened them to look at Bronte.
Her eyes were filled with tears, and then without any warning, she cupped my
