Virgin Romance by Penny Wylder
2
An arm slips around my waist and I look up—whoa. I was expecting to push off some overly interested frat guy. The man—that’s the only word I can use for him—that’s touching me is the farthest thing from my image of a frat guy that I can think of.
He towers over me in height, looking down at me with a smirk and a sparkle in his eye. He’s blond, and I don’t crush on blond guys but damn. He reminds me of one of those black and white perfume ads where the ridiculously good looking models hang out on boats or at the beach. Only he’s here, alive, in full color, touching me. His eyes are blue, and I’m surprised that I noticed, ‘cause I don’t usually notice things like that. But I can’t seem to stop staring at his eyes.
He makes a small noise in his throat, and I realize I’ve been staring instead of answering the question that he asked. “I’m fine, thanks.”
The corner of his mouth curls up into a deeper smile. Pulling me more firmly against him he says, “I see you’ve met Marian.”
She scoffs, “You know her?”
“Of course I do,” he says lightly. “This is my girlfriend. So don’t do what you usually do, Marian. Back off.”
Her shoulders slump a little, and she looks back and forth between us with what looks like…jealousy? I do my best to look like we’re together—though I have no idea what that would look like—and not like I’m freaking out that a hot stranger has his hand on my waist.
Marian gives me another scorching look and stalks off, every line of her body screaming with anger. I guess she’s not used to being confronted like that.
I, however, feel like I’ve just run a marathon and have all the endorphins to prove it. I had an adrenaline rush and now have the happy high of someone who just survived something dangerous. I realize that hot-mystery-man still has his hand on my waist.
I look up at him again. “Since I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, I think I should know your name.”
He laughs. “Carter Hale, nice to meet you.”
“April Collins,” I say. “I’d shake your hand but I think we’re already past that.” I glance down to where his arm is around my waist. Carter’s name sounds familiar to me, but I can’t put my finger on exactly why. “Thank you for that, I’d rather not have that kind of drama before the school year even starts.”
“No problem.” His voice is deep and rumbly, mixing with the bass in the music. I can feel its vibrations from where he’s pressed against my side. “Would you like to dance? In my experience there’s far less drama on the dance floor.”
“Why’s that?”
“The only talking people are doing is with their bodies.” He smirks.
I blush. The way his eyes travel up and down my body after his comment only makes me flush harder. “Sure.” At least if we’re dancing the focus will be less on how easily embarrassed I am.
My waist feels cold as he lets go of me. I hadn’t realized how comfortable it felt. Not that I’ve had a lot of experience being held. I see Kara dancing, and I immediately feel better as Carter catches my hand and pulls me into the next room where the makeshift dance floor has popped up. A crowd of people move in time with the music, some far more entwined than I would think possible.
Carter pulls me into the middle of the crowd, and once again, I’m pressed up against his body. I can’t say I mind the feeling. Underneath his clothes—which are more formal than everyone else at party—it’s not hard to tell that he has a body that he works out for. My mind flashes to Kara and what she might think if she saw me like this with Carter, but it’s only a dance, right?
Right.
I try to shut off my mind and let myself move. Not the easy task it might seem like. I’ve never really…danced like this. Cheer dance is one thing, all choreographed steps. You always know where you’re supposed to be. This makes me uneasy because it’s so loose, so unplanned. Anything could happen, and that’s what worries me. That’s also what excites me. Carter is gorgeous and I don’t want to leave. Not yet. Besides, I’m his girlfriend, right? I would be a terrible girlfriend if I didn’t dance.
The song that’s playing is something that might have played at a dance in middle school. It’s a little out of touch with the tone of the party, but everyone’s having a good time with it. There are smiles all across the dance floor. Carter spins me out and in, and I find myself grinning, leaning into him. This feels…easy. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this simple. I’ve danced with guys before, but it always felt awkward and full of tension, like there was some kind of expectation that the dance was a commentary on our relationship. This doesn’t feel like that. I’d forgotten how fun just dancing could be.
The light song ends, and the music shifts into something deeper and more rhythmic. Sexier. But still our dancing doesn’t lose that same easy chemistry. Our movements slow—we’re closer together. We’re entwined, just like those couples I saw earlier, but I didn’t expect it to feel this…good.
I’m warm and tingly, aware of every place he’s touching me. And every place he’s touching me tells me that his clothes are hiding a body that any of these girls in here would kill for. I let my own hands wander just a little bit, too. It’s strange and exhilarating—completely new territory that wakes up a longing in the pit of my stomach I can barely put a name to.
The way his hands are on my waist is adding to my heat, and the way he’s looking down at me as we dance makes me want to pull him closer, if that were possible.
Carter spins me again, this time slowly, and it’s almost like I can feel his eyes on my body as I turn. I can’t say that I don’t like it. I’ve never felt like this before, this kind of wanting more of someone else. Maybe I’ve been so busy keeping every guy away that I never thought about how it might feel.
He pulls me in, his chest against my back, and his hands roam across my waist as our hips move in time with the music. There’s something stiff against my back, and I’m not sure—
Oh my god.
All the blood rushes to my face, and I freeze for a second, realizing that Carter, behind me, is hard. I’ve never felt an erection before, but there’s nothing else that this could possibly be. But that’s not the most startling part. The startling part is that I don’t mind it. I like knowing that I made him react like this. It makes me feel gorgeous and sexy and alive. Things that could easily get me into trouble and might lead to me breaking the pact. I should find Kara and see if she’s ready to leave. I came here to keep her out of trouble, not get into some myself.
I step away from Carter quickly—too quickly, and I try to ignore the flash of hurt and confusion on his face. I lean up to his ear and say something about needing to find the bathroom, ducking quickly through the crowd of dancers before he can stop me. It’s better this way. If I leave now, he won’t be as disappointed that something can’t happen between us. Leading him on just wouldn’t be fair.
But, as I head up the stairs, I can’t ignore the sick feeling in my stomach that feels too much like regret.
