Page 56 of A Good Book

I needed to come clean or sacrifice my morals. But were they morals or just guilt? Did I genuinely not want to have sex until my wedding night, or was I afraid of the guilt from God? Maybe if my heart was pure, if I only had sex with the person who I intended to marry, God would show me mercy.

“Your place,” I whispered.

* * *

When my sistersand I were younger, Mom and Dad promised to take us to Disneyland. The buildup to our trip was the most exciting and unforgettable time in my life. But then our car broke down, and not only could our parents not afford to pay for us to fly to California, they couldn’t afford the park tickets after paying for the car to get fixed. So we went to Six Flags, and Mom bought us Mickey Mouse T-shirts to wear. We had to lower our expectations, but we still had a good time.

I wasn’t going to have sex with Matt for the first time on our wedding night. Instead, I’d lose my virginity on a random Saturday night after Chinese food.

“Brett, this is Gabby,” Matt introduced me to one of his roommates, while taking my hand to lead me up the stairs.

“Hey,” Brett said without taking his eyes off the television.

“Do you think this is a good idea with one of your roommates here?” I whispered as we reached the top of the stairs.

Matt chuckled. “He doesn’t care. Trust me, he doesn’t think I’m bringing you up here to study.”

Matt was steady and cool while my bones rattled, and my hands felt clammy. He closed the bedroom door behind us, and I turned in a slow circle. There were baseball posters on the walls, a cluttered desk in the corner, a dresser covered with trophies and dust, and a bed with messy sheets.

He drew the window shades, then turned toward me, toeing off his tennis shoes. “I love it when you blush.”

I pressed a shaky hand to my cheek. Calling it a blush was like calling a volcano a bonfire.

“I know you might have imagined this, but I never did.” He slid his hand into my hair and ducked his head to kiss my neck. “Such an unexpected surprise,” he whispered between kisses.

My breaths quickened.

His hands and mouth felt good, but the guilt felt bad.

I closed my eyes and tried to think only about the good, but every time his hands moved to a part of my body that no man had ever touched, shame overshadowed everything.

He kissed my mouth and guided my hand to his jeans, rubbing it along his erection. I kept my fingers straight and stiff. Did he want me to massage it?

Why was it so difficult? Was I overthinking it like the time I asked Ben to show me how to kiss? My mind skipped to the second time Ben kissed me. I didn’t overthink that. In fact, I didn’t think at all. I just kissed him.

I felt desired and safe, and that made me feel like a real woman.

Kissing Matt deeper, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He grabbed my butt, squeezing it like he was teetering on the edge of control. Nerves of anticipation mixed with the euphoria of physical desire were a heady combination.

He dragged his lips from my mouth to my neck again while sliding his hand up my shirt.

“Gabby,” he mumbled.

“Ben,” I said in a breathy voice.

He froze.

I opened my eyes. Why was he stopping?

With a soft chuckle, he stepped backward and rested one hand on his hip while his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong?” I curled my hair behind my ears.

Again, he released a little laugh while shaking his head. “You said Ben.”

“What? When?”

He dropped his hand and looked at me. “I said your name, and you replied with Ben’s name.”

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