Page 43 of Dearest Protector

We’d both showered and changed after we’d gotten out of the hot tub, and we were currently having a drink on Ben’s patio in side-by-side comfy lounge chairs.

I had a glass of wine.

Ben had opted for something stronger.

It was a beautiful evening, and I could hear the sound of the waves lapping onto the beach.

The peacefulness of the night should have relaxed me, but the tenseness between the two of us made every muscle in my body tight.

Eventually, I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I asked hesitantly, “Did I do something wrong?”

Ben turned his head and our gazes locked.

I couldn’t really read him, but the intensity in his eyes stunned me.

Ben generally wasn’t a broody type of guy, but he definitely had something heavy on his mind.

I was just hoping it wasn’t regret over the fact that he’d kissed me like that in the first place.

For me, that embrace had been life-altering.

For Ben, maybe not so much?

“You did absolutely nothing wrong, Ariel,” he said roughly, his eyes still glued to mine. “I fucked up. Why would you even think you did anything wrong?”

Flustered, words left my lips without even thinking about them. “God, I don’t know. You’re barely talking to me. I’m not exactly worldly when it comes to sex or making out, but I would have sworn that you wanted me, too. I don’t have much experience. It’s not like I’ve never been kissed or that I haven’t messed around a little, but I’ve never had sex before. I don’t really know what to do after I kiss a guy. I have no idea what turns you on.”

That fiery expression of his turned molten as he asked huskily, “Ariel, are you saying that you’re a…virgin?”

Great! Why in the hell did I just admit that to a guy that I really, really want to have sex with?

I felt like a total idiot.

Then again, Benwasmy friend.

Yes, I wanted a lot more from him, but I couldn’t discount how close we’d become or how much I valued him as a confidante.

“Yes,” I confessed, and then broke eye contact because I was suddenly embarrassed to be telling a sophisticated guy like Ben Blackwood that I’d never had sex.

I was twenty-three years old. Most women my age weren’t inexperienced. They’d been with multiple guys. They’d even been in multiple relationships. Some of the women I’d gone to school with were now married, engaged, or involved in a committed relationship.

“Why?” he asked in a graveled voice.

I sighed and said a little defensively, “Is it a crime that I’ve just never found anyone that I wanted that way? My entire life was devoted to dancing. My schedule was so damn rigid that I never had time to really…date.”

“Men had to be falling at your feet in New York,” he stated.

I snorted. “I never looked down and saw a bevy of men at my feet. And I knew better than to date someone in my profession. If a relationship doesn’t work out, you could end up dancing with your ex-boyfriend, which definitely makes your professional life uncomfortable. It’s not a big deal. I’m not saving myself for marriage or something. I just wanted it to feel right. That just…never happened. Maybe that’s weird at my age, but I never worried about it. I was perfectly capable of getting myself off. I’ve always had a pretty vivid imagination.”

Ben reached out, snagged me around the waist and hauled me over to his chair and onto his lap.

“You didn’t need to worry about it, and no, it’s not a crime to be a virgin,” he growled. “I’m just stunned that every man in New York wasn’t trying to be the guy you wanted.”

I still avoided eye contact with him as I shared, “They weren’t. There are a lot of beautiful, well-educated women there, and I wasn’t exactly seeking out a relationship. Dancing was emotionally and physically draining sometimes. I was usually more interested in soaking my aching feet after a really long day.”

Now that I’d met Ben, I realized that my general disinterest in dating and sex in New York had nothing to do with my sore feet and busy schedule.

I would have wantedhimunderanycircumstances.

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