Mr. Commitment-phobe was getting freaked out.
I shifted on my feet and winced at the soreness between my thighs, both from the sex itself and his scruff on my sensitive skin. That same sensation prickled over my breasts and neck.
So many reactions all hitting me at once. So many more things I wanted to explore.
I wasn’t a virgin anymore. But I wasn’t going to insult myself and think about how now I was a woman, because fudge that, I’d always been a woman. I just hadn’t had sex before.
Mission finally accomplished. Yet here I was, waiting for him to man up and face me.
Amused, I leaned a shoulder against the door. “Oliver, Oliver, come out wherever you are.” Wuss, I added under my breath.
He didn’t reply right away. For the briefest instant, old, familiar fears tried to raise their annoying little heads.
Maybe he decided virgins were too much work.
Maybe he’s afraid you’re going to cry and be emotional.
Maybe he doesn’t know how to tell you he was a one-and-done.
And not performance-wise either. But he didn’t need to tell me that. I’ve lived in Crescent Cove all my life. He’s a serial monogamist, emphasis on serial. It’s not as if I expected him to spoon afterward.
It might be nice, but whatever. We were in Vegas. I had things to do. I wanted to go to the Elvis chapel, for Pete’s sake. Oliver’s issues with intimacy so did not fit into my timetable for the day.
And you know what? I was going to tell him that. No more shrinking violet for me.
Empowered, devirginized Sage, reporting for duty.
I lifted my hand to knock on the door, and it swung open. Before I could tell him I was about to get dressed and go see Elvis, he clamped his arm under my ass and swept me off my feet. His mouth closed over mine and I forgot I was supposed to be pissed. Pretty sure I forgot everything except the pressure of his lips, teasing mine apart.
He carted me back to the bed and sat down with me on his lap, sensually stroking his hand over my hair. He wasn’t even winded. With him, I felt petite and feminine and…happy. At least when he wasn’t pissing me off, and right now, we were good.
So good.
I cupped his scruffy jaw, drawing my thumb over the surprisingly dense hair already growing in. “I’ve never seen you anything but clean-shaven.”
His brows were knitted, the expression in his dark eyes so heavy. “My kit is next door.”
“Well, don’t rush. I like it. Makes you look roguish and hot.” I lowered my head, about to show my appreciation for that fact, when he placed a finger over my mouth.
“We have to talk.” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I apologize for running off on you before, but I truly didn’t know how to handle this.”
Just like that, all my joyful sexy-time vibes vanished into the ether. My skin iced over, and I shifted on his lap, prepared to climb off. If he was going to tell me to get lost—or some variation—I’d prefer if he did it while I was dressed and not all snuggled against him as if we were normal lovers.
For once, I’d just wanted to be normal.
“You don’t have to say some big speech. I’m honestly fine with it. You may not believe me—”
“The condom broke.”
I narrowed my eyes on his clearly concerned expression. As a rule, Oliver appeared just this side of stern, but this was more than usual even for him.
He appeared genuinely worried.
“Okay.”
“Okay? You’re not on the pill, are you?”
I shook my head. “For what? There were no invaders in my tunnel of love.”