She bites the inside of her cheek. “Promise.”
I hold two fingers up, hoping that her wish isn’t something I can, or more importantly, might want to do. “Scout’s honor.”
She inhales deeply, bracing for whatever she’s about to tell me. “I wanted to... Iwanttobe kissed.”
The cigarette smoke enters the wrong pipe, setting my lungs ablaze.
What the fuck?
I stare at her, searching for mockery or amusement, but she’s dead fucking serious. Someone designed her for me. She’s got all the qualities I find attractive: sassy, feisty, intelligent, stunning...andshe’s a virgin.
How the hell am I supposed to stay away from her now? Even the fact she’s Frankie’s daughter no longer means shit. “Are you saying you’ve never been kissed?”
“Why are you surprised? I told you I’ve only dated boys who like boys.”
“You said you dated three guys who like guys, not that you dated three guys total.” I size her up, double-checking if maybe I imagined how perfect she is, but no, she’s flawless. “Jesus, Star. Have you seen yourself?”
She shrugs, indicating that it’s not a big deal. Yeah, sure. I mean, beautiful, nineteen-year-old virgins crowd every street corner in Chicago.
“You tell me. I’m not a man. I don’t know what’s so fundamentally repulsive about me.”
“Frankie.” Nothing else is an option. “Men won’t touch you because they’re afraid of your father.”
Her dress rolls up a few inches when she readjusts her position, exposing more skin. A beauty mark halfway up her thigh comes into view as if to taunt me as if to say,this marks the spot where you kiss.And, fuck if that’s not all I want to do right now.
I move in, resting my elbows on my knees, and place my hands on her legs, stroking the small dark spot with my thumb, my mind filled with indecent images. Images that shouldn’t pop into my head while I’m touching a virgin.
Gut-wrenching desire mixes with a cruel, compelling need to taste her lips. The intensity of my lust quadruples becauseno onehas kissed her yet.No onehas had her between the sheets. I feel like Neil Armstrong the day he boarded Apollo 11 with the moon in his sight.
I have Layla, my star, right here. At an arm's length. I want to be the first man that’ll do everything with her that she should’ve done by now.
“You’re not afraid,” she utters, breathing on the shallow side as she eyes my hands caressing her smooth, silky thighs.
I push my fingertips into her flesh, my blood like red, hot soda water. “I’m not afraid of Frank, Layla.”
Acting as if my touch doesn’t affect her, she spins an empty shot glass on the counter, but her cheeks tell the truth, warming up. That pale rose shade sends an electric pulse deep inside me.
I retreat my hands.
Controlling myself is easier when I’m not touching her.
“I don’t think my daddy is the problem. He’s not protective. He has no time for nonsense.”
Once he finds out you spent the night with me, he’ll have all the time in the world to care and voice an opinion.
“It doesn’t matter.” I clench my fists, itching to touch her again. “Everyone knows who Frank is. That’s enough. No one will take the risk.”
Layla rests her forehead against the countertop with a heavy sigh. “I’ll die a virgin.”
Not if I get a say in this.
She turns toward me, eyes sparkling. “Your turn. Whystar?”
“Because you’re like a movie star. Stylish, unattainable, annoying, and so fucking feisty.”
“I’m not that feisty. Well, not always. You just get on my nerves, Dante.”
I smirk, enjoying the quips. “And vice-versa. Cheers.”