After withdrawing, he collapses onto the bed next to me and pulls me to him.
“Pardon. I’m sorry if I went too hard,” he says after blowing out a breath.
“It’s totally fine,” I reply. It’s not a hundred percent true, but, as Mo would often say, it’s good enough for jazz.
Tony seems contemplative, and when he speaks, his words carry an ominous tone. “You’re going to wish you heeded my warning.”
I LIKE BEING CURLED beside him, and I don’t want to talk about buyer’s remorse. I assume that’s what he’s referring to. Anyway, I decide to ignore his words. My gaze sweeps over his body, gorgeously tan, gorgeously masculine. I run a hand over his pecs and down his six-pack. Unlike me, he could be a model. It’s not just his looks and muscles that would make him a good one. It’s his posture, his devastating gaze, and the way he carries himself. Eric Drumm is taller, but he comes across as a kid next to Tony.
“Why did you wait until now to lose your virginity?” Tony asks.
I shrug. “I wasn’t waiting for the love of my life, if that’s what you’re wondering—or worried about. I’m not romantic like that.”
“Really? I find most American women tend toward romantic.”
“Well, I can’t draw any comparisons as I grew up here in America and never traveled abroad, but Lila was practical, almost to a fault. I never went through a princess phase like most girls because Lila didn’t want me to think that the end-all-be-all was sittin’ in a castle waiting for Prince Charming to come along.”
“And I’m hardly Prince Charming.”
“Well...I don’t think Prince Charming would smoke.” I raise myself up to look into his eyes. “You ever thought about quitting?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re not about to lecture me on the demerits of smoking.”
“What if I did?”
“I won’t hold back the next time I fuck you.”
Good Lord. He had been holding back? I shudder, imagining what it would be like if he went all out. I don’t think my body would hold together.
“Then I’ll just assume you know already that smoking is bad for your health,” I say. It was a little risky, but I was just returning a little of his own patronization. ‘Course, he might not see it that way. And if he did, he might not care.
“I’m no good for you, but that hasn’t stopped you.”
“Do you really care what happens to me?”
His jaw tightens. “I shouldn’t.”
“Right,” I say after a pause. “You don’t know me. Maybe I deserve what I get.”
“I could say that I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, but I can tell you’re no asshole. Assholes don’t try to return umbrellas because they’re worried some rich son of a bitch might get wet.”
“And the fact that you would warn me against you shows that you aren’t a complete asshole either.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s wise to have sex with me. What were you thinking?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I can tell you’re a nice girl—”
I bristle.
“Woman,” he corrects, “but what you did was stupid. Just because you wanted the money—”
“Lots of women trade their body for money.”
He gives me a hard look. “And most of the time, they’re forced into it. You may not have been raised a Cinderella, but you’re as naive as one.”
I think about the stories I’ve read about sex trafficking, of little girls in Thailand giving blow jobs to travelers from the West, of women smuggled into the United States to work in the sex trade. Like Tony said, they’re forced into it. Or they live in such poverty, they have to turn to prostitution just so that they don’t starve to death. But I’m not ready to accept his assessment that I’m stupid.