Page 118 of The Wicked
He turned to look at me. “I don’t know if you know this, but thirty-three isn’t old.”
“Yeah, I know, but—like, I’m just surprised. You’re so handsome and young and hot.”
He looked away, his body shifting uncomfortably.
“Okay, so, still prying… why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He shrugged. “I do not know.”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“How often do you have sex, then?”
He sucked in a breath. “You have no filter.”
“I blame it on the drugs,” I said, allowing my tone to grow sensual as I asked, “So… how often?”
I welcomed the heat from his body and how we’d drawn closer to each other. The lightness in my head turned heady, and I leaned into that heat.
“Not often.” His voice was hoarse.
The pace at which my heart thumped had doubled, but I still pushed. “When was the last time?”
He stopped to think. “A year and a half… maybe more.”
“Dude, that’s—that’s ballsy.”
“Intimacy is sacred for me,” he said.
“Is that so…?” I said softly, raising my hand to trace my index finger down his forearm.
He turned his head to me again, his gaze falling on my hand on his arm while his muscles grew tense under my touch.
“So, like,” I continued, “you like every woman you fuck?”
He raised his gaze, and our eyes locked. The tip of his pink tongue ran over his bottom lip, and I had the strongest urge to kiss him.
Yes. I’m horny as fuck right now. Pill’s doing a good job.
“Hm, yes,” he responded. “But I don’t necessarily like them; I have to like something about them before I get intimate with them. And it’s always a one-time thing. Because of my at—”
“Attachment issues. When was your first time?”
“Seventeen… yours?”
“Same.” He knew that was a lie but didn’t care enough to call my bluff. “First kiss?”
His eyes searched mine before he swallowed and said, “I don’t have one.”
I won’t deny it; that caught me by surprise. “That’s a lie.”
“I have no reason to lie.”
“But you’ve been with women—”
“You can be intimate with someone without kissing them, Zahra.”
