Page 67 of Endgame

If Rourke had been on the fence about me being loose before, he certainly wasn’t after last night.

Taking out that vibrator my best friend from Kansas, Bianca, had bought me had been a terrible idea.

My first time attempting to give myself an orgasm and I’d been caught red-handed, not that it have even fit inside of me. It hadn’t, becauseIhadn’t been broken in.

Tell me you love me, Rourke.

Ugh, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

How pathetic.

Shame crept through me when I thought of how easily I had almost given myself to him.

Was I completely insane?

What the hell had come over me?

I’d dated boys in the past and never had I lost my head like that. My last boyfriend, Peter, had put in four hard months of wooing before I allowed him to put his hands on me. And even then, it was in the back of a movie theatre, in complete darkness, and it was bra over boob contact.

Rourke, I had allowed to spread me open on my bed. His penis had beenthisclose to the entrance of my vagina.Thisfreaking close.

He was mad at me for stopping… for being so mentally unhinged.

I didn’t blame him.

I mean, whodidthat?

What girl in her right frame of mind begged a guy to tell her he loved her right before sex?

This girl, apparently.

No, fuck him.

Hewas the one who asked me first!

I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed for asking him to tell me I needed to hear what I’d told him when he needed to hear it.

Rourke

“WE NEED TO TALK,” I announced on Friday morning when I got back from dropping our parents off at the boat. Six was sitting on her usual stool at the kitchen island, nursing a mug of coffee between her small hands.

Of course, the moment she saw me, she dropped her gaze, choosing to stare down at her coffee with keen interest. “No,” she whispered, face cast downwards. “We really don’t.”

“Six,” I growled, irritated by her dismissal. “We need to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, tough shit, because I do.” Walking over to where she was sitting, I sank down on the stool beside hers and swung her around to face me. “Last night, I –”

“I can’t talk about it, Rourke,” Six snapped, covering her cheeks with her hands. “I can’t, okay? Jesus!”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more; throttle her or kiss the shit out of her. “Listen to me,” I growled. Cupping her face, I forced her to look at me. “I was a complete tool last night.” Understatement of the century. “Getting pissed with you for not wanting more?” I shook my head and exhaled a ragged breath. “I was thinking with my dick, not my conscience.”

“Forget about last night,” she squeaked out before pulling her face away from my touch. “I have.”

“You really mean that?” I asked, watching as Six got to her feet and put some space between us. “You really want me to pretend nothing happened between us?”

“Yes, Rourke!” she hissed. “I really want you to forget about the most embarrassing, regrettable night of my life.”

---