Self-doubt crawled through every recess of my mind, digging for any shred of remembrance of how Ty and I could end up together. All the women who hit on him? Not a point in my favor. His savvy self-confidence? Not a reason to pick someone who double-checked everything. The swagger in his walk? Heck, the swagger in his existence? Definitely not a style that meshed with any part of me.
If anything, I was too opposite, not just kind of opposite. Was that it? Was I a challenge? Shoot, what if someone dared him to go on a date with me? It wouldn’t be the first time that happened. My stomach knotted. Dang it, I couldn’t undermine myself when I was getting what I wanted.
What did I want? My body was at war with my morals and I wasn’t sure who would win.
I opened my phone and read the mantra for the day because I couldn’t remember the wording. ‘I deserve every good thing that comes my way.’
Okay. Another pact I had with myself was to live the daily mantra. Of all days for this to be the wording, there had to be interference from the universe. So, I deserved a date with Ty. Yes, thank you universe.
I think I caught him off guard when I mentioned going out the same day that he asked, but I’d just been trying to clarify when. In all fairness, I was always free.
Still standing in the bathroom, I smiled at myself in the mirror. What did he see in me? Stop the self-doubt. Policing myself was a full-time job.
I resumed my card game, miraculously picking up pair after pair, praying I didn’t use up all of my ‘you deserve good things’ karma on winning a game of solitaire. Stop, I cautioned myself. It’s okay to let good things happen.
My subconscious refused to ignore how far the date might go. Lots of people didn’t have sex on the first date. That wouldn’t be weird. The fact that I’d never had sex was a lot weirder. Given that I didn’t enjoy most people’s company for more than three minutes made for extremely few opportunities to even consider that level of intimacy. Yet twenty minutes before Ty was supposed to show up, I couldn’t get my mind off the possibility. Was he the one?
I shoved the thought aside, or at least tried to. My parents had ingrained in me the evils of pre-marital sex. They didn’t explain what to do about the tingly sensations between my legs every time Ty crossed my mind, though.
Squeezing my thighs together relieved some of the intensity, but there was no denying my panties were already wet. A sign of betrayal by my very own body. I rushed to my bedroom to change.
Virginity was a crazy thing. People were obsessive over it, no matter whether you were or weren’t.
A few months ago, nurses at the hospital had been reminiscing about their first times and asked about mine. In my painful honesty I’d told them the truth. Based on their interest, I’d assumed my sexual status would make it through the rumor mill but nothing ever came from it so I had no idea if Ty was aware. No new nickname, still the Mouse of Mercy.
With fresh panties on, I was ready for my date, but wondered how my confession should work? Should I tell him? Should I pretend? Should I quit being ridiculous and wing it? A solution that rarely worked for me, but there wasn’t any reason to worry unless we got to that point, which was highly unlikely.
Chapter 4
Ty
As I stopped in her driveway, I laughed at how the small, unassuming home with landscaping that consisted of pavers leading to her front door, fit her style, simple and sufficient.
When Missy had hesitated about going out, I felt like a damn genius for suggesting we stay in. Dating was all about getting to know someone and that had been my first big revelation. She wasn’t a ‘night on the town’ kind of woman. And she invited me to her home which I’m pretty sure was a special place for her. I’d never heard of her inviting anyone else. Not that all conversations about her had to be run past me, but I’d tried to keep tabs on her.
When she opened the front door and welcomed me, I was taken aback by her beauty, seeing her for the first time ever in something other than her scrubs. The plain, long, blue t-shirt complimented her skin color, and the black leggings tempted my fingers to slide over her legs. Another level of Missy. Some part of me reverberated with excitement.
We didn’t have to parade through the showy part of the relationship and fall into acceptance, we were there, ready to be our daily selves, not the primped and preened version that went on fancy dates. Did that bump the rest of the relationship forward? I could only hope so because I wasn’t sure how long I could stifle the depth of my feelings for her.
Walking inside, I resisted kissing her on the cheek and it made my body ache even harder to hold her.
She directed me to take my shoes off and leave them on the tray by the door, one piece of clothing down. Probably not how she saw it, but the slight action of undressing had my hormones in a free-for-all.
The entry opened into the living room which had no decorations and only a couch, chair, and tv on a stand.
She caught me staring. “I’m pretty minimal. Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I was expecting a bookshelf.”
“Oh, I use the library. Less clutter in the house, and I don’t have to dust all of the books.”
I nodded and comforted myself that I hadn’t brought flowers, or wine, or anything, per her directions. Until I knew her better, I’d decided not to surprise her. Control could be a big thing, and I would let her have it to gain trust as fast as possible. Self-serving and respectful in one tidy bundle. At your service.
Small talk was guaranteed to be minimal. Honestly, I could have sat and stared in silence if that’s what she wanted, with the exception of my boner begging to find out if her pussy was as sweet as the rest of her. Too bad I couldn’t separate out the ways I was attracted to her and only call on the one appropriate for the moment.
“Let’s get dinner started.”
Okay, no small talk. The kitchen was the first order of business, but she had an air of nervousness even beyond her normal brevity.
Actively relaxing my jaw, I readied myself to show her she could let her guard down around me. Otherwise we’d both end up a bundle of nerves by the end of the evening.
Putting a hand on her shoulder, I savored our first real contact, the tiniest flinch that morphed into a giggle, and the smile that let me know it was welcomed. I asked, “Which ingredients do we need? Bread, cheese, and butter, or do you use one of those fancy recipes?”
“Nothing special for me. Bread’s in the pantry if you don’t mind getting it.” She took a deep breath and pulled away.
Instantly I missed the slim curve of her shoulder and the brush of her hair over my fingers. The abruptness with which she turned caught me off guard, but may have been a necessary breather for both of us. I’d already considered skipping dinner altogether but that was unlikely to go over well, and I really was in it for more than sex.
With everything set on the counter, we both reached for the bread bag, her hand on top of mine. She let it linger and met my gaze, and said, “Thanks for letting our first date be here. I’m not very comfortable going out.”
“Whatever makes you happy.” I brushed the fingers of my free hand over her cheek.
Her eyes closed for a second. What was going through her mind? She broke the moment by diving back into command mode. “We better get the sandwiches made if we want to eat.”
I bit my tongue. “Alright.”
Jumping into sandwich assembly, she positioned herself in front of the stove.
I leaned against the counter beside her. “Anything I can do?”
“Nope.”
“Am I just supposed to observe?”
She shrugged her shoulders and extended the spatula my direction.
Taking advantage of a next step opportunity, I stepped behind her and slid my hand down her arm to the spatula. “We could do it together.”
Her petite build fit between my arms, my legs straddled hers, and my lips hovered over her head. No kissing. Damnit.
I wanted to breathe in her scent bu
t mostly got the smell of melting butter coming from the pan.
My fingers mingled with hers on the spatula. She seemed extra dainty when I was touching her, holding her, and I never wanted to let go.
Lowering my lips to her hair, I grazed a kiss over her dark strands. Had she felt it? She didn’t lean into it, nor did she pull away. Little by little I planned on helping her relinquish control, let me take care of her.
Inhaling, my chest expanded and pushed against her.
She leaned her shoulders into me and tipped her head back. Huge progress.
I used every bit of my willpower to keep my dick from coming to life.
Grilled cheese might be the best food on the planet, but I suspected she’d be upset if we torched it. Shifting my head to the side, I gripped her hand that was holding the spatula and together we flipped the bread. “Close call.”
“I’ll say. I better get plates.” Her breath came out whispery and her chest heaved up and down with deliberate, heavy breaths that bore the same weight of anticipation that was consuming me.
Neither of us moved. The damn grilled cheese was the only thing standing in the way of me sliding into Missy. A perfect moment, except it wasn’t. She liked order far more than would allow a wasteful romp that was sure to set off the fire alarms.
Time. We both needed it. We both had it, so long as I reminded myself, ‘Good things come to those who wait.’
Stepping backward, I dragged my hand up her arm, stopping on her shoulder. With slight pressure, I spun her around, less than a foot between us.
Her eyes steadied on mine, glanced away, looked back, then away again. Her lips parted.
Pressure filled my body in anticipation of a kiss but she wasn’t ready. I couldn’t stop watching her, studying her up close the way I’d longed to. The way that filled my soul with satisfaction. I couldn’t wait to make her mine, but a first date was too soon to reveal what she did to me.
She darted to the side, flipped the cabinet open, grabbed several plates, put several back, then set two on the counter.
Adorable.
I took one of her hands in mine. “Hey, just dinner.”
Was I a fucking liar? At least for the next several minutes the only thing we had to focus on was dinner.
She stuttered over her words. “Sorry. Thanks. I’m a—"
Squeezing her hand, I said, “Everybody’s nervous on a first date.”
Her head hung low. “It’s more than that. I’m…”
I tucked a finger under her chin and lifted. “We don’t even have to kiss.”
Missy stared at my chest and pursed her lips. “I want to…”
“Then when the time is right, we can. There’s no hurry.”
“I’m a virgin.”
Chapter 5
Ty
The info dump tore through me. Perhaps the three sweetest words I’d ever heard someone speak. My body couldn’t decide between agony and excitement. Confusion and clarity. Despair and hope. And shock. A whole boatload of shock. A stampede of thoughts barreled through my head.
How many seconds passed before I processed the sadness on her face? Had I waited a nanosecond too long? Would she trust anything I said? “It’s okay.”
Her arms hung limply, clearly unconvinced by my response. No eye contact.
I pulled her close, thankful my dick respected the direction the moment had taken. Encircling her, my body welcomed her contact, even if the ultimate promise was on hold… a torturous hold that seemed more unbearable and more worth it all at the same time.
The slow inching of her arms around my waist gave me the hint of trust I needed while I was dying to find out if she’d been trying to say she hadn’t even kissed a guy or if she hadn’t had sex. A burning question… No! That was burning grilled cheese. Shit.
She hadn’t noticed.
I pushed her away and she overreacted stumbling backward. Quick reflexes allowed me to catch her but embarrassment was running high for both of us. I reluctantly let go, hoping to save dinner.
The top of the sandwiches remained a delicious golden brown, at least as much as I could see through the smoke. Burned cheese bubbled around the crust. The smell transitioned from the tantalizing aroma to danger.
I slid the spatula under one sandwich then the other, rescuing them from further destruction.
Tears threatened to flow as Missy fumbled the twist-tie on the bread bag.
“We can salvage these.” I tried to console her.
“I have more bread and cheese. We can start over.” She gave up on the twist-tie and covered her face.
“Mind if I try?”
“How?” She stepped back.
I grabbed a knife and scraped the thin black layer from the bread into the sink. “Good enough?”
She took the sandwich and inspected it. “Works for me.”
“Want to taste it to be sure?”
“I totally trust you.” Her shy smile sent undertones that she wasn’t only talking about dinner.
I’m not sure how saving a sandwich equaled trust, but I’d earned it. Now to prove I deserved it.
I cleaned up the second sandwich and we sat at the table. Mouthfuls of gooey cheese helped me avoid addressing the bomb she’d dropped.
Watching her eyes roll back and her tongue slowly lick the crumbs from her lips only heightened my concerns. I wouldn’t pressure her into anything, but every little gesture wound the tension in my body tighter. She’d been the only woman on my mind from the first moment I’d seen her at the hospital.
My hand had been a poor substitute. Countless nights I’d gotten home from work and had to settle for envisioning her, recalling her scent I’d only been able to enjoy in passing, and letting my mind recreate her touch from the rarest and luckiest occasions when I’d been able to steal the tiniest bit of contact.
When she’d accepted my offer for a date, I thought my lonely nights would see the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead the torment of her comment proved to me I’d wait forever for her to be ready.
Although I might die trying.
She caught me staring at her lips and blushed. Dabbing a napkin over them, she asked. “Did I make a mess?”
“You’re beautiful.” Fuck. Not an answer to her question or a smooth response that would indicate my willingness to be patient.
Letting her gaze linger on me for a second, she seemed to be evaluating me. My intentions? My boldness? My truth? Whatever she wanted, I was surprised she hadn’t looked away and let the moment hang in the air.
The blush on her cheeks grew even redder, then she glanced away. Cute, and maybe she wasn’t as reserved as I’d thought.
“Thank you, I don’t get called beautiful very often,” she finally responded with a giggle.
“I’ll fix that.” How close was I to losing her trust? The full intensity of my desire would put me on thin ice, or get me kicked out. There had to be a balance of making sure she knew she was special and moving forward. Her virginity became the primary thing on my mind no matter what topic I used to distract myself. Was she waiting until marriage or had she not found the right guy?
The mystifying attraction I had toward her left me certain I could satisfy both of those scenarios.
Not that I wanted to, but I needed to. My future didn’t exist without Missy by my side, in my arms, carrying my child… and other ways sure to freak her out if I mentioned them, because the intensity of my thoughts even freaked me out.
“What made you want to become a doctor?” she asked presumably to keep the conversation from steering back to her sexual status.
Was my expression that readable? Even if I had known what made me choose my career path, my brain wouldn’t have been able to retrieve it. I wanted to focus on her and the extent of her virginal ways which were intriguing me more by the second. “I’m not sure.”
“You don’t have the typical look.” Her gaze flitted nervously from my bald head then settled on my sleeve of tattoos.
She reached to
ward my arm but halted before making contact, leaving me hanging. The temptation to move my arm closer or grab her hand energized me.
“I’ve gotten more than a few questionable glares because of them, especially before I had my degree.” Setting her plate on top of mine, I carried our dishes to the sink.
“That’s too bad. People are so judgmental.” She jumped up and tried to help but I had the handful of dishes under control.
In the kitchen, I noticed her wall calendar with almost nothing written in, but each past day was carefully marked off with a single slash. The picture was of a sunset, or sunrise, I couldn’t be sure. The fascinating attention grabber was that she’d put me on the calendar despite less than a day’s notice. Had she been as eager to hang out with me as I was to hang out with her? Could I call it bragging rights to be on her calendar?
More printed holidays populated the calendar than personal additions. I noticed the pre-printed holiday two days out… Valentine’s Day. My insides roared to life. The holiday of love had never been important to me, and I’d never shared it with a woman even though some always showed interest in the weeks leading up to it.
I washed the dishes while she put the extra ingredients away and wiped down the counters. Being part of her inner world consumed me as the most right thing that had ever happened.
Everything clicked into place as the universe seemed to be signaling why my brain hadn’t logged when the actual holiday was. Early on, my experienced colleagues had warned me not to let my guard down before the gift-giving holidays, when cuffing season was in full swing.
In a completely backwards turn of events, I had to sideline the image of dropping to one knee with a wedding ring… a heart shaped diamond, of course because my mind had crafted every detail, although around twenty steps ahead of reality.
Instead, I had to avoid biffing the evening so we could make it to Valentine’s Day. If that meant sitting on the couch talking all evening then leaving without a kiss goodnight, I’d question my sanity, but I’d survive.
Virginal Valentine Page 2