“Intimate?” I blink as the translation sinks in. “Oh, are you asking if I’m a virgin?” I laugh because the question is much less scary than I expected.
“I guess that’s what I’m asking.” Bradley looks vaguely embarrassed. “It’s fine if you are. I just—I’m trying to be respectful, since you’ve made it clear this can only be a temporary thing for you.”
Relief washes through me. Not just that we’re on the same page, but that his question is simple to answer.
“No, I’m not a virgin. Don’t worry. Wait.” I frown, recalling something I read about American men having hang-ups about wanting to date virgins. “I mean, yes, I’ve had sex before. If that’s a problem for you, I’m sorry, but I won’t apologize for—”
“No, no!” He holds up his hands like I’ve pointed a pistol at him. “Not an issue at all. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t rushing you or anything. Different cultures have different values around sex, and I didn’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”
My gaze flicks to the skewered hot dog plunged to its hilt in the glass of batter. “Because this isn’t awkward?”
He laughs and drags a hand down his face. “I can fix that.”
“Oh?”
I’ve barely squeaked out the word before he’s scooping me off the counter and cradling me in his arms like I weigh nothing at all. “Between Kevin watching us and the fact that Dan could turn up at any moment, I’m not super pumped about fooling around on your kitchen counter with the blinds wide open.”
Craning my neck to see the front window, I’m aghast to realize anyone could have looked in and seen me sitting here in my bra. That’s how lust-dazed I am that it never even occurred to me.
“Where are we going?” I twine my fingers around his neck, well aware we’re headed for the bedroom.
Also well aware of what’s going to happen there. Am I ready for that? Would it be crossing some line I’m not supposed to cross?
I’m still wondering about that as Bradley kisses me and steps through my bedroom door. He lays me back slowly on my queen-sized mattress, easing down on top of me.
The rumpled white coverlet gives away the guilty fact that I forgot to make my bed this morning. It’s clearly not enough of a turnoff to break Bradley’s stride. His hand is back on my breast, and he’s laying a path of kisses down the center of my body, making me squirm beneath him.
Clutching the back of his head, I gasp and arch up against him. He rests a palm on my belly and looks up at me with heat-filled eyes.
“I urgently, desperately, want to fuck you.”
I gasp, but not because I’m shocked. That’s the single hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and I wish I’d known it was coming so I could record those words and play them over and over until the day I die.
“I want that, too.” I lick my lips, so hungry for him I’m on the brink of drooling.
But as I start to pull him on top of me again, Bradley slides one hand to my hip and anchors me in place. “But let’s slow down just a little,” he says. “Okay?”
I blink, wondering what I missed. “I swear I’m not a virgin,” I sputter. “If you’re worried about deflowering me or some misguided notion of respect, I assure you we’re not about to cross some line I haven’t crossed before.”
My mother made sure of that, thank goodness.
“Isabella.” She patted the edge of the buttery chaise in my bedroom the night before I left for boarding school. “Let’s sit and talk about why you absolutely, positively should not save yourself for marriage.” Her smile grew haughty as I eased down beside her. “Take it from me, dear. Have as much sex as possible—discretely, of course—before settling down.”
I laugh, which makes Bradley blink. I should not be thinking about my mother now, or anything to do with my home country.
Because if I think about that…
“It’s not that,” he says, and for one startled moment, I think he’s read my mind. But as he draws a hand over my ribcage, gently tracing each thin bone, my body fizzes with desire that overrides my anxiety. “It’s just—I’ve had a few friends-with-benefits arrangements. They’re fun, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not what I’m after right now.”
“You want to be enemies?” I’m being flip, but mostly because I’m not sure what he means. “Or you’re saying we shouldn’t have sex because you slept with Lily before she and James got together?”
He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “You always surprise me, Iz.” He dots a kiss along my jaw, then starts moving down, lips grazing my shoulder, my collarbone, the top of my right breast. “But I’m glad you brought that up. I don’t want there to be any big secrets between us.”
I close my eyes, arching into the pleasure of his mouth on my nipple, even as guilt flutters through me. “I don’t have a problem with it,” I assure him. “Lily mentioned it when we were shopping.”
She broke it to me gently, worried I might not take the news well.
“How was he in bed?” I asked, struggling not to sound too eager as she plucked a purple sweater off the rack.
“Outstanding.” She grinned and held the sweater up against me, adjusting the daring V-neck. “We weren’t in love, so it wasn’t next-level amazing the way it is with James, but men who’ve studied anatomy—well, they tend to know their way around the female body.”
I shiver now as Bradley kisses his way down my torso, demonstrating an enviable knowledge of every nerve ending in my body. “I want to go slowly,” he says, planting a kiss near my navel. “But I also desperately, urgently want to get you off.” Another kiss, this one right above the waistband of my jeans. “So what do you propose we do about that?”
There’s a teasing note in his voice as he moves lower, pressing his mouth against the heat between my legs. Layers of denim and satin separate us, but I arch up like he’s just circled my clit with his tongue.
“Bradley, please.”
I don’t realize I’ve twined my fingers into his hair until he looks up, smiling, his dark locks rumpled and stupid-sexy. “Please what?” He grins wider. “I’m realizing Lady Isabella has a filthy mind. Let’s see if your mouth matches.”
I look him dead in the eye and take a deep breath. “Fuck me with your mouth.” I pause. “Please.”
He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. The bulge in his jeans is ample evidence he’s ready for much more.
But his eyes lock with mine and he gives a devilish smile I feel deep in my core. “Yes, ma’am.”
With that, he unhooks my jeans and slides them slowly down my thighs.
Chapter 8
Bradley
I didn’t expect her to say it.
Hell, I didn’t expect to be doing it, but here I am peeling off Lady Isabella Blankenship’s panties as everything inside me aches to taste what I’m uncovering.
I half expect she’ll demur, pressing her legs together as shyness overtakes her. But Izzy lets her thighs fall open as she looks down at me with fire in her eyes.