Page 9 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

“A virgin.” Yep. I’m bringing full-on psychotic and crazy to the party. I clear my throat and lay my expectations. “I want my future husband to be a virgin.”

His eyes go round in shock, not at all expecting that. Satisfaction burns through my chest that I finally caused a crack in his cocky attitude. Did I mention he has stubble across his sharp jawline? It only adds to his appeal.

He arches one perfect eyebrow, highlighting the sexy symmetry of his face. “You’d like your husband to be a dud in the sack? Any special desires you will groom him for?”

“Just feminist values,” I reply before flipping my hair back and shrugging. “Why must the woman always be pure? I’d also like for him to be a good cook, and not mind if we lived in our own house without a big family and no kids in the future. I’m very career-oriented.”

Everything Julian is not.

“Are all these nonnegotiable?” His face gives nothing away.

My heart thunders. “Yes.”

With bated breath, I wait for him to stand up, reject me for these insane demands, and walk out. I’m almost certain he will. Except, he does neither. Instead, he casually leans back, knuckles tapping rhythmically on the table, and calls me out on my shit. “You came here with your mind made up to reject me. Tell me why.”

“Everything I said is true. And I couldn’t exactly mention these qualities to the matchmaker, lest she tell my mother. Wewon’t work out since you obviously don’t possess any of those. So, we should part ways right now.”

“Who said I don’t?” he counters.

A humorous chuckle slips past my lips. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

“Too personal a question for a first date, don’t you think?”

“You seem too confident to be bothered by it.”

His gaze burns hotter at my sassy response. “Fine. I’m a virgin.”

“You’re lying,” I half scoff, half laugh.

“Maybe I’m saving myself for my wife.” Smirking, he taunts, “Why must the man always be a manwhore?”

Damn him for throwing my words back in my face. My cheeks flame in embarrassment. He’s turning out to be a tough cookie to turn down. Rather than ruffling his feathers, he’s ruffling mine. Then again, I’ve always loved a challenge. My desire has been twisted into a delicious thrill.

“Do you think I’m playing hard to get?” I accuse sharply. “Perhaps a chasing kink? Is that why you’re not backing down and continuing our dead-end date?”

“You’re fun to rile up. This is the most fun date I’ve ever been on.Theonlyone I’ve ever been on.” Running his tongue between his teeth like a hunter eyeing its prey, he confesses, “And I’m curious to see just how many over-the-top excuses you’ll come up with to let me down, which is obviously your goal.”

“You say you want to settle down yet I’m the only woman you’ve seen?” I probe, disbelief evident in my voice. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

“Had to start somewhere.” Again, a calm with an undercurrent of teasing in his tone.

“I’ll cut to the chase then,” I reply. “You’re not my type, you’re a liar, and I don’t think we are compatible for marriage. How’s that for an excuse?”

“Boring.”

I roll my eyes. “Then go find someone entertaining.”

“You were about a second ago.”

“God! You’re infuriating.”

“I like getting under your skin.” When I glare, he smiles and confidently says, “And you want me.”

My obnoxious, condescending, and uppity attitude is giving him “I’m attracted to him” vibes.

Maybe because you’re not trying too hard to resist.

I shut down the taunting voice inside my head and continue to keep up the façade of being unaffected and lift my chin. “I do not.”

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