Ava’s eyes flick down to my lips, before she runs the tip of her tongue over her own. “And let me guess, you’re volunteering? I already told you we can’t do that.”
“And I already told you no one would even know about it. So what’s the problem? Didn’t any of your exes ever make you come? Because I promise you that won’t be a problem with me.”
“No,” Ava says, and now her voice is fierce. “No one's disappointed me.”
“Then what?” I persist. I reach out to touch her leg, and she jerks away from me.
“None of my ex-boyfriends have disappointed me, because I don’t have any ex-boyfriends,” she finally snaps. “Happy?”
“What?” I ask, not understanding.
She rolls her eyes. “You heard me,” say says, looking away. “I’m a fucking virgin, okay? Now can we drop it?”
She’s a virgin? What the fuck.
I’d just assumed otherwise — why the hell wouldn’t I? She’s in her twenties, and smoking hot. Why would she be a virgin?
This makes things a little different. I don’t do virgins. I prefer women of experience, who know what they like and are up for anything. I’ve even banged a few older women in my time, and let me tell you, the stories are all true. For a good time, call an older woman.
But the whole ‘debauching the untouched flesh of virgins’ thing? That’s not me, and I’ve never really understood guys who pop a boner over it.
Screwing virgins has consequences. Girls who know what they’re doing? That’s different. They know who I am and what they want, and they understand there’s never going to be anything in it other than a fantastic lay and a see-you-later.
But I have no intention of being the object of some virgin’s infatuated obsession. I know what happens to guys who deflower virgins. It’s all sobbing phone calls at three AM and boiled bunnies. No way am I going down that path.
But for Ava….
The thought is in my head before I can stop it.
But for Ava what? I ask myself with irritation. She’s just some girl. She drives me nuts — worse than any other girl I’ve ever met. And I don’t do relationships. Not even with girls I actually get along well with, like Kara. Kara’s easy-going, she has no expectations of me, and I have none of her. I don’t for one second imagine it’d be the same with Ava.
The only thing we have in common is this frankly ridiculous situation. Except for that, I never would have even met her.
Except that I did, the day I singled her out after I made the winning run.
There were plenty of people around I could’ve run to, but she’d been there, standing in the winter sunshine like some kind of angel sent down from Heaven to reward me for winning the game. I’d remembered her even before Coach Jackson brought her up again.
Somehow, she’d gotten under my skin from the very first moment I saw her.
And I can’t say I’m loving it.
“Look,” she says suddenly, breaking into my thoughts and grabbing the iPad out of my hand. “If you’re completely finished with your interrogation about my love life, we have to choose somewhere to eat, whether you like it or not.” She quickly skims through a few of the places I vetoed. “This one looks fine. We’re going here. You can get your pizza.”
She tosses the iPad back into my lap, and I pick it up to see one of the fancy places I rejected up on the screen — Balotelli’s.
“Whatever,” I mutter, suddenly not in the mood to argue anymore.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AVA
Riley goes quiet — for once — after the revelation that I’m a virgin.
He doesn’t even argue when I pick out Balotelli’s as the place we’re going on our date.
I can feel a blush creeping up my throat for about the fiftieth time since I’ve met Riley Knox.
I don’t know why I let him do this to me. We don’t really even know each other, yet I can’t get him out of my head. If Murray had chosen literally anyone else for this stupid publicity stunt, I’m sure I
“And I already told you no one would even know about it. So what’s the problem? Didn’t any of your exes ever make you come? Because I promise you that won’t be a problem with me.”
“No,” Ava says, and now her voice is fierce. “No one's disappointed me.”
“Then what?” I persist. I reach out to touch her leg, and she jerks away from me.
“None of my ex-boyfriends have disappointed me, because I don’t have any ex-boyfriends,” she finally snaps. “Happy?”
“What?” I ask, not understanding.
She rolls her eyes. “You heard me,” say says, looking away. “I’m a fucking virgin, okay? Now can we drop it?”
She’s a virgin? What the fuck.
I’d just assumed otherwise — why the hell wouldn’t I? She’s in her twenties, and smoking hot. Why would she be a virgin?
This makes things a little different. I don’t do virgins. I prefer women of experience, who know what they like and are up for anything. I’ve even banged a few older women in my time, and let me tell you, the stories are all true. For a good time, call an older woman.
But the whole ‘debauching the untouched flesh of virgins’ thing? That’s not me, and I’ve never really understood guys who pop a boner over it.
Screwing virgins has consequences. Girls who know what they’re doing? That’s different. They know who I am and what they want, and they understand there’s never going to be anything in it other than a fantastic lay and a see-you-later.
But I have no intention of being the object of some virgin’s infatuated obsession. I know what happens to guys who deflower virgins. It’s all sobbing phone calls at three AM and boiled bunnies. No way am I going down that path.
But for Ava….
The thought is in my head before I can stop it.
But for Ava what? I ask myself with irritation. She’s just some girl. She drives me nuts — worse than any other girl I’ve ever met. And I don’t do relationships. Not even with girls I actually get along well with, like Kara. Kara’s easy-going, she has no expectations of me, and I have none of her. I don’t for one second imagine it’d be the same with Ava.
The only thing we have in common is this frankly ridiculous situation. Except for that, I never would have even met her.
Except that I did, the day I singled her out after I made the winning run.
There were plenty of people around I could’ve run to, but she’d been there, standing in the winter sunshine like some kind of angel sent down from Heaven to reward me for winning the game. I’d remembered her even before Coach Jackson brought her up again.
Somehow, she’d gotten under my skin from the very first moment I saw her.
And I can’t say I’m loving it.
“Look,” she says suddenly, breaking into my thoughts and grabbing the iPad out of my hand. “If you’re completely finished with your interrogation about my love life, we have to choose somewhere to eat, whether you like it or not.” She quickly skims through a few of the places I vetoed. “This one looks fine. We’re going here. You can get your pizza.”
She tosses the iPad back into my lap, and I pick it up to see one of the fancy places I rejected up on the screen — Balotelli’s.
“Whatever,” I mutter, suddenly not in the mood to argue anymore.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AVA
Riley goes quiet — for once — after the revelation that I’m a virgin.
He doesn’t even argue when I pick out Balotelli’s as the place we’re going on our date.
I can feel a blush creeping up my throat for about the fiftieth time since I’ve met Riley Knox.
I don’t know why I let him do this to me. We don’t really even know each other, yet I can’t get him out of my head. If Murray had chosen literally anyone else for this stupid publicity stunt, I’m sure I
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