Virgin Romance by Penny Wylder

3

I think that my mouth is on the floor along with the boxes. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing that you’re doing here.” He takes the box he rescued into the dining room and adds, “I’m living here for the next couple of months. Roger didn’t tell you?”

“No,” I say, picking up a sheaf of papers that spilled from one of my boxes. “My uncle forgot to mention that detail.”

“I’m not surprised.” I pile my two boxes on top of the rest. “Did you get all these into your car by yourself?”

“Yeah.”

He scoffs, “I’m sure there are plenty of guys at the office that could have been persuaded to help you.”

I feel myself bristle. “I’m not made of glass, it’s just boxes.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, mouth sliding into a smile. “You’re perfectly capable of carrying boxes. But in case you haven’t noticed, it’s hot as hell outside, and you didn’t need to do it all yourself.”

“It was really fine.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure it was. Why don’t you get some water and then grab your suitcase? I’ll take care of the rest of the boxes.”

“Mr. Finch, you really don’t have to—”

He cuts me off. “First, please don’t ever call me Mr. Finch. It makes me feel like a fossil. Second, you already carried all those file boxes once. I can take it from here.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he gives me a look and I change my mind about finishing the thought. Instead I say, “What should I call you, then?”

“Andrew is fine.” He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it over one of the dining room chairs.

I wander into the kitchen and poke around in the cupboards looking for a glass. I find one and get some ice and water, and then I go back and get another glass for when Andrew is finished with the unloading. It’s the least I can do.

He’s already back with another box, and I try not to stare. It’s not like he’s naked, but that shirt fits really well and he definitely fills it out. He doesn’t even hesitate before going out for another box, and I follow him. I grab my stuff from the back seat of my car, and I hear his voice behind me. “There are a few empty rooms upstairs. You can choose whichever one you like.”

“Thanks,” I say, and I make a beeline for the stairs.

No, Naomi, you will not think about the fact that you’re alone in this gorgeous house with your current crush. You will think about that later. Alone. After dark. Under the covers.

I find a corner room that overlooks the garden, and immediately know it’s the one I want. A queen size bed with crisp blue linens dominates the room, with a desk and a reading chair tucked along one wall and an actual armoire and vanity on the other. I drop my suitcase by the armoire and head back downstairs.

The pile of boxes in the dining room is growing, and Andrew walks by with another as I come down. “Are you sure that you don’t need any help?”

“Very sure,” he says, disappearing out the door again.

I take a sip of the water. It feels weird just letting him do all the work. I mean, he is technically my boss. But he also volunteered.

The more I watch him go in and out, the more I’m glad I’m standing in the kitchen. Mostly because it’s cool and not at all because Andrew is sweating through his shirt and making it easier to see even more of him.

Finally, he comes through the door and says, “This is the last.” He puts the box down with a sigh.

I push his glass of water across the counter toward him. “Here.”

He grins, tugging at the open collar of his button down shirt and exposing just a flash of that smooth, perfect chest. “Thank you. Did I mention it’s hot as hell outside?”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I say, smiling into my glass.

“Definitely.” He unbuttons his shirt and takes it off before reaching for the glass, and even though I know I shouldn’t stare at him, I can’t look away. The v-neck T-shirt he’s still wearing is soaked through, and I can see everything. If there were wet T-shirt contests for men, he would win. Hands down. The man is cut like a diamond. I can count his abs through the shirt, and my eyes drift down to where it’s ridden up and showing skin that’s perfectly tan.

Suddenly I realize that I’m staring, and he knows it too, because he’s staring at me. He’s not smiling anymore. Instead he looks…curious. I feel myself blush from head to toe. Yes, I swear even my toes are flushed at the thought of what that body could do to me. My imaginings haven’t been doing him justice. I’ll need an upgrade.

I clear my throat and say, “I should go unpack, since we’ll be here for awhile.”

I don’t actually run, but it feels like it. I retreat into my pretty room, and attempt to take a breath. Cool down. I get my suitcase open and start sorting through the mess that I made this morning when I was late. I jump at the sound of a floorboard behind me, and turn to see Andrew at the door. He walks over to where I am, and I can feel his eyes on me. I try not to look, because if I look again I’ll stare, and the staring will lead to wanting. Instead, I start to talk.

“I know, this is totally a mess. I got really distracted this morning by this song, and then I ended up not having much time to pack.” I yank the suitcase over to the wall next to the armoire, and Andrew follows me. “Now I’ll have to organize everything. Re-fold, re-hang, re-wash, whatever. I’m not usually this disorganized.” I find my bag of toiletries in the wreckage of my suitcase and grab it. I turn to go and put it in the bathroom, and Andrew is there. “I should put this away,” I blurt, holding up the toiletries.

He stretches out his arms on either side of me, blocking the doorway with his perfect body. “It’s not a crime to look, Naomi.”

My eyes snap to his, really looking at them for the first time since we bumped into each other in the hallway. “I wasn’t.”

His mouth quirks up. “You were. I don’t mind. If I didn’t have other things on my mind I’d let you look at me all day.”

“What other things?” My mouth has gone entirely dry, and I find it hard to speak. He’s so close, and every nerve in my body is begging to find out what it would be like to have him touch me.

He leans forward until our faces are almost touching. “How much I want you. I told you in the copy room I would think about you. I did.”

Oh god. My heart is beating so fast now, I swear I can hear it pounding. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. I think I make some sort of sound though, because he smiles again. “What was that?”

“It’s not real. Not true, I mean. You have no reason to think about me.”

Our faces are still close, and his cheek presses against mine as his lips brush my ear. “I promise that when I am with you I will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And I want you.”

His words make me shiver. He takes a step back and peels his T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside. I let myself look at him. Like he said, it’s not a crime. His body reminds me of a surfer’s, long and lean with unexpected muscles and definition, all leading my eyes down to his belt. His face is all mischief as he moves back toward me. “Now that you’ve finally seen me without a shirt on, don’t you want to see the rest of me?”

The familiar feeling of my blush hits, and I don’t have time to answer because he kisses me. His lips aren’t on my mouth by next to it, barely a press against my skin. The sensation travels across me and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“Naomi, tell me if you want me to stop.”

I swallow, find my voice. “No. Don’t stop.”

“Tell me what you want.” He pulls back to look into my eyes, and I am stunned by his gaze. His eyes are so blue, and I can see the earnestness pouring out of them.

I’ve never been here before. I don’t know what to say, only that this is everything. I swallow again. “I want you.”

It’s soft, barely audible, but a smile slowly spreads across his face, and then his mouth is on me again. He moves along my jaw to below my ear, and I can hear him whisper, “I’ve wanted to taste your skin since that first day.”

He traces down the line of my neck, sucking gently on my skin, and I gasp. I can feel myself trembling every time his mouth touches me, trying not to move, not to break the moment. This is everything I wanted, and I don’t want it to disappear. His hands are on my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth dips lower to the hollow of my breasts. I can feel myself getting wet, and I close my eyes, letting myself feel every last thing. First his lips touch my skin, then his tongue, moving upward, drawing a line of fire from between my breasts and back to my neck. “I told you I’d find something to clean you with, and I want to lick every inch of you.”

“Yes,” I say. I want that. I want him everywhere. My hands are exploring his body now, tentatively feeling the edges of his ribs through skin and the flexing muscles of his back. I love the feeling of his skin, and I want more. I move to unbutton my shirt, but my hands are shaking so much—both adrenaline and nerves—that I can’t seem to do it. He can feel my struggling, and he reaches between us for my hands, instead winding them around his neck.

Then he kisses me, and it’s real this time.

Oh my god what have I been missing. My heart leaps into a faster beat, and tingles spread all the way to my toes. His lips are just as soft as I imagined them, and his tongue traces the outside of my lips. I open my mouth to him, and the way we tangle together sends heat through me. But the rhythm is off somehow, and we’re not exactly in sync. Like we’re a song and there’s one note out of tune. He breaks away with a laugh, smiling at me. “Baby, you’re as nervous as a virgin.”

I freeze. This is it. This is the moment where it all disappears.

Andrew feels my sudden tension and stops smiling. “Are you alright?”

I press my lips together, nodding.

“I just said you were nervous,” he says, running his hand through my hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You said ‘nervous as a virgin.’” I look away and say, “Well…”

This time I feel him tense, and I look back to see it sinking into his face. “You are a virgin.”