My gaze shot up to meet his, and I didn’t blink once. “That hadn’t occurred to me.”
“Then what occurred to you on that long drive home?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“Stop calling me a liar. You can’t read my mind.”
“Do you touch yourself?”
“Jeez …” My head bowed to hide my embarrassment.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He walked to the basement door and opened it. “Go touch yourself. I’m going to take a shower and touch myself. Then we’ll have dinner and see how the evening progresses.”
Oh … my … gosh …
He was serious. I didn’t know what was most unsettling: the idea of him giving me a homework assignment to masturbate or him confessing his own intentions.
I laughed, a little too loudly. “I’m … I’m not going to …”
“Touch yourself? Why the hell not?”
Swallowing hard, I shook my head. I felt like the world’s biggest prude. And that shouldn’t have bothered me. I had my faith. I did have morals. And if I gave in and handed him my virginity, what would I have to give my husband on our wedding night. Those were the words I’d heard from my grandma and people at church so many times. Except my grandma took it one step further with a cringe-worthy analogy.
“Therese, if you don’t have that to give your husband, it’s like borrowing a used sanitary napkin from a friend. You don’t want to be a used sanitary napkin, do you?”
So there it was … not having my virginity on my wedding night was not only disrespectful to my husband and to God, it was gross and had the potential to spread disease. And I bought it. Not only did I buy it, I repeated it to my friends to help remind them of the importance of staying virgins.
Making the virgin walk of shame, I sulked toward the stairs, stopping and glancing up at Fisher.
“Have fun.” He gave me a tight smile.
I blinked several times. “I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
My head shook in frustration. “B-because I don’t want to make myself feel good; I want you to make me feel good! I want to feel like I felt last night, like I felt this morning.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Fiiine …” When he opened his eyes, he blew out a long breath. “But I need a shower before that happens again.”
“Why?”
“Jesus, Reese … because. Okay? Because. Can it just be okay with you?”
“No!” I covered my mouth after I yelled my answer.
He growled and grumbled. Things were worse than I thought. Fisher was mad at me and the rest of the world, but mainly me.
“I want to be the reason you … well … you know.”
“Done.” He gave me a slight nudge, forcing me down the first stair. “I will think of you the whole time. Happy now?”
I deflated. “You don’t deserve my dreams, naked fisherman.” Turning, I descended the stairs and headed straight to my bedroom, where I wasn’t going to touch myself regardless of what Fisher did in the shower.
Plopping onto my bed face-first, I turned my head toward the window and stared at the mountains, thinking I should just go … just take a drive alone.
“Happy Meals? Really, Reese. You got Happy Meals for my crew today?”
“They didn’t complain.”
“Not to you. I hope you got the toys you needed, the toys you’re no longer collecting.”
I didn’t respond.
“So …” his voice got closer to me. “Naked fisherman?”
“Shut up.” I didn’t turn toward him, even though I knew he was next to my bed.
“Tell me about your dreams.”
I sighed. “Sorry. They’re mine. Get your own.”
The other side of my bed dipped. I turned my head toward Fisher next to me on his back, hands folded on his chest as he stared at the ceiling.
“Take your shirt and pants off,” he said.
“What?”
He closed his eyes. “Just … take them off. Nothing more, just your shirt and pants.”
I didn’t move.
“Do you trust me?”
“Not really.”
He grinned a tiny grin, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Well, try … just this once.”
Sitting up slowly, I removed my shirt, eyeing him to see if he was peeking.
He wasn’t.
I had to stand to shimmy out of my jeans, leaving them on the floor next to my shirt—leaving me in a white bra and panties.
Fisher’s eyes fluttered open, and I held my breath, holding back the urge to cover myself. “You’re truly beautiful.”
My skin turned pink all over. “Thank you,” I whispered, fighting the insecurity to ask him if he thought I was as beautiful as Teagan or the million other women he’d been with while I was just a young girl.
“Come here.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, I crawled onto the bed close to him.
“Straddle my legs.”
Biting my quivering lower lip, I straddled his jean-clad legs. The level of intimacy made it nearly impossible to breathe.