“It’s really beautiful,” I said, walking back to him.
“Yeah,” he said. He was stretched out on the cream-colored leather couch on deck. “Sure as hell beats being stuck in the city right now. Come, sit down.”
I went over to the couch and he swung his legs around, so he was in a sitting position. I sat next to him.
“One of the perks of the job, I guess,” he said. He gave me a stern look. “But don’t get used to this. Unfortunately, it can’t be a regular occurrence.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. I could tell he was looking at me, but I suddenly felt shy, so I looked toward the horizon, where the sky met the water. Time almost seemed to slow down, or maybe it sped up; I suddenly felt as though I were in some sort of capsule, it was just Ian and me on this boat, and even though I could look to my left and see the city, it felt like we were the last people on the face of the earth.
He leaned forward, his face just inches from my own. I could feel my pulse racing, though it was hard to take a breath. I wanted him to kiss me, yet at the same time, I was terrified.
“Daisy,” he said in a low voice.
I looked over and met his eyes, but looked away quickly. It just felt like too much; this whole thing was making me feel like I was going to spontaneously combust. But his lips were right there, and all I had to do was lean in a little . . .
But I couldn’t move. I felt completely paralyzed, other than the racing heart, though Ian didn’t seem at all bothered by this. Other guys might have taken it to mean I wasn’t interested, but Ian just continued to look at me. He brought his hand up to my chin and gently tilted my head back. He leaned down and closed the short distance between us, just brushing his lips to mine.
A warm shiver reverberated through my whole body, and I felt goosebumps on my arms, even though I wasn’t cold at all and the sun was bathing us in a warm glow. He pressed his mouth more firmly against my own, now, cupping my chin in his hand, holding me there, the tip of his tongue tracing the contours of my lips.
I kissed him back. Slowly, at first, because it had been so long since I’d last kissed someone—really kissed someone—that I was afraid I’d have forgotten, but no, it was like my body knew exactly what it was doing and it didn’t need my brain to offer any instruction. My lips moved with his in perfect synchronicity; there were no miscues, no banging of teeth, no awkwardness whatsoever.
“You’re a hot little thing,” he said when we finally broke apart, “no doubt about that. But we’re going to stop for now.”
My eyes flew open. “We . . . are?” I was about to ask why, but caught myself.
“We don’t need to rush things,” he said. “I’m exercising restraint. Which may sound surprising, but is something I like to do from time to time. But don’t worry—they’ll be plenty of time to do things like this again. I wasn’t expecting any of that to happen. That wasn’t my plan; I want you to know that.”
I nodded, feeling my heart rate finally beginning to slow down. There was an aching longing between my legs, and I wanted to just jump on him, but there was no way I was going to do something like that. “I know,” I said. “And trust me—I wasn’t expecting any of that to happen, either.”
“But it did.”
“It did.”
“And it was very good. More than that, actually. So don’t go getting all insecure or feeling weird about why we didn’t happen to go all the way today, all right? Because that has nothing to do with it.”
“Okay,” I said, though it was a little hard to believe. If he was really that interested, wouldn’t he have wanted to have sex right now? “That’s fine. I . . . I’m actually a virgin.”
I didn’t know why I said it; was it supposed to be like, I’ve waited this long already, I can continue to wait? Because that seemed kind of silly. And the way I was feeling right now, I didn’t know if I could wait, but obviously, I was going to have to.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a virgin?”
“Yes,” I said. The way he said it, it was as if he thought I was lying. “Is that really so hard to believe?”
“I’ve heard—” He stopped and shook his head. “No,” he said. “Well, yes, in a way. How old are you? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Wow. That’s pretty impressive. Most girls your age have gotten laid at least a few times. In my experience, anyway.”
“Do you have much experience with women in their early twenties?” Did I really just say that?
“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I do. And, believe it or not, at one point I, too, was in my early twenties.”
“I bet you were.”
Had he put something in that drink I’d had when we first set out? Some sort of confidence boosting concoction? It had just been a bottle of water, but maybe there was something that was odorless, tasteless. Because I could not ever remember flirting with a guy like this before, and feeling totally comfortable and excited about doing it—if I hadn’t had a little alcohol first. Maybe it was just the warm sun and the salt air and the fact that I was having more fun that I could ever remember having in a long time.
“It’s not that I haven’t had any sexual encounters . . . I’ve had a few of those. I just haven’t had sex.”