my face.
He was taunting me, prodding. Is that what he really thought of me? Innocent? But honestly, I guess I was. Well, maybe not innocent. Just inexperienced. I had no idea how to play Christian’s games, no idea of what the girls he surrounded himself with were like, although I could only imagine. It had to be my greatest disadvantage. Vulnerability oozed from my consciousness, and I shifted in discomfort.
Christian could devour me whole.
His expression shifted as he edged even closer, his voice a whisper, “Just how innocent are you, Elizabeth?”
It was clear what he was asking, though I couldn’t tell what he hoped the answer to be. Those blue eyes flamed as he waited, his leg burning against the inside of my calf, the air in the restaurant thick.
I slowly shook my head. “Not that innocent, Christian,” I whispered.
A long blink shielded his eyes, and something like disappointment flitted along the lines of his face before he swallowed and opened his eyes, searching. “How many guys have you been with?”
Embarrassment flashed over my skin, spread over my chest and onto my face. I averted my gaze. Why was he doing this to me? We talked so much, most often casually, though at times those conversations turned serious, delving into deeper subjects as we learned more and more about the other. It had always felt like a comfort to have someone to confide in. But we’d never talked about this.
“Hey,” he murmured, his tone shifting, the softness in his voice coaxing me to look back up at him, “you know all about me.” Christian lifted one hand, the grimaced smile on his face almost pained, and counted off with his fingers. “Six, twenty two, seventy four.” They were like little contemptuous checkmarks lifted in the air. “I can’t count that high, remember?” he said. He was clearly trying to make light of it, but the words held a distinct undertone of hurt. “Don’t you think it’s fair if I know a little bit about you?”
I blew out a slow breath, remembering how I’d put him on the spot before. Friends would know this about each other, anyway, but he and I both knew this wasn’t about us being friends. “Just one,” I finally said, dipping my head down and to the side to hide the redness I knew would be there, though I couldn’t help but slant my eyes to watch his reaction. “He was my boyfriend for three years.”
I hated the heaviness that crept over me when I thought of Ryan, hated more that Christian had more of an effect on me than Ryan ever had. “Of course, because I was fifteen and naïve when we started dating, I thought he was the one.” A bitterness I’d kept concealed for too long broke loose. “He bugged me our entire senior year until I finally gave in right before graduation. I had sex with him three times and all three times were awful. Then he broke up with me. That’s it.” I shrugged nonchalantly, like I hadn’t just divulged the entirety of my pitiful experience with guys and that I hadn’t been the fool to fall for this obvious exploitation.
I was pinned to the chair by Christian’s sudden severity. My chest squeezed as his head tilted just to the side, the depths of that place I was scared to tread exposed. “Do you still love him?”
I fumbled through the emotions Christian had crashing around inside of me for an answer, unable to discern how I felt. I licked my lips to steady myself. When I spoke, my voice trembled. “No. I mean, it still hurts because of what he did. I was devastated for about a week, but it wasn’t hard to realize we didn’t have a future together. I just wish he would have broken up with me before he had sex with me. I can’t stop thinking about how stupid I was falling for it.”
“And the asshole didn’t even know how to take care of you,” Christian murmured, the assertion rough and abraded, his eyes a destructive force as he stared at me. There was no questioning what Christian was thinking right then.
A lump grew in
He was taunting me, prodding. Is that what he really thought of me? Innocent? But honestly, I guess I was. Well, maybe not innocent. Just inexperienced. I had no idea how to play Christian’s games, no idea of what the girls he surrounded himself with were like, although I could only imagine. It had to be my greatest disadvantage. Vulnerability oozed from my consciousness, and I shifted in discomfort.
Christian could devour me whole.
His expression shifted as he edged even closer, his voice a whisper, “Just how innocent are you, Elizabeth?”
It was clear what he was asking, though I couldn’t tell what he hoped the answer to be. Those blue eyes flamed as he waited, his leg burning against the inside of my calf, the air in the restaurant thick.
I slowly shook my head. “Not that innocent, Christian,” I whispered.
A long blink shielded his eyes, and something like disappointment flitted along the lines of his face before he swallowed and opened his eyes, searching. “How many guys have you been with?”
Embarrassment flashed over my skin, spread over my chest and onto my face. I averted my gaze. Why was he doing this to me? We talked so much, most often casually, though at times those conversations turned serious, delving into deeper subjects as we learned more and more about the other. It had always felt like a comfort to have someone to confide in. But we’d never talked about this.
“Hey,” he murmured, his tone shifting, the softness in his voice coaxing me to look back up at him, “you know all about me.” Christian lifted one hand, the grimaced smile on his face almost pained, and counted off with his fingers. “Six, twenty two, seventy four.” They were like little contemptuous checkmarks lifted in the air. “I can’t count that high, remember?” he said. He was clearly trying to make light of it, but the words held a distinct undertone of hurt. “Don’t you think it’s fair if I know a little bit about you?”
I blew out a slow breath, remembering how I’d put him on the spot before. Friends would know this about each other, anyway, but he and I both knew this wasn’t about us being friends. “Just one,” I finally said, dipping my head down and to the side to hide the redness I knew would be there, though I couldn’t help but slant my eyes to watch his reaction. “He was my boyfriend for three years.”
I hated the heaviness that crept over me when I thought of Ryan, hated more that Christian had more of an effect on me than Ryan ever had. “Of course, because I was fifteen and naïve when we started dating, I thought he was the one.” A bitterness I’d kept concealed for too long broke loose. “He bugged me our entire senior year until I finally gave in right before graduation. I had sex with him three times and all three times were awful. Then he broke up with me. That’s it.” I shrugged nonchalantly, like I hadn’t just divulged the entirety of my pitiful experience with guys and that I hadn’t been the fool to fall for this obvious exploitation.
I was pinned to the chair by Christian’s sudden severity. My chest squeezed as his head tilted just to the side, the depths of that place I was scared to tread exposed. “Do you still love him?”
I fumbled through the emotions Christian had crashing around inside of me for an answer, unable to discern how I felt. I licked my lips to steady myself. When I spoke, my voice trembled. “No. I mean, it still hurts because of what he did. I was devastated for about a week, but it wasn’t hard to realize we didn’t have a future together. I just wish he would have broken up with me before he had sex with me. I can’t stop thinking about how stupid I was falling for it.”
“And the asshole didn’t even know how to take care of you,” Christian murmured, the assertion rough and abraded, his eyes a destructive force as he stared at me. There was no questioning what Christian was thinking right then.
A lump grew in
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