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what I was talking about.
    He stayed quiet after that, I guessed giving me a minute to change my mind. When I didn’t, he slid closer. Now his knee was touching mine. And his hand. My body was already charging from these two connection points—I couldn’t imagine what would happen tomorrow night when we were connected everywhere else too.
    “Whatever you want—whatever feels right—whatever you want to give me or need me to give you . . . be assured that tomorrow night will end with me being the luckiest bastard on this planet.”
    My heart was beating so hard I was certain he could hear it. Why did he have to be the one to say the fairy-tale words and give me the fairy-tale room and make me feel the fairy-tale things . . . and yet not be the actual fairy tale?
    How could the small handful of boys who’d professed their undying love for me not be able to say or express it the way Abel Lockwood was, the same man paying me for the use of my womb?
    It was all so confusing. My head started to ache from all of the thinking.
    “But if I could perhaps make one request.” From his tone alone, I knew whatever he was about to say would make me shift. “I want tomorrow night to be exactly as though we were in a loving, committed relationship. I don’t want it to feel like something you just need to get over with. I want this to be exactly as if you were my wife and we were ready to bring a child into this world.”
    Somehow I found the courage to let my eyes wander back to his. His hand tightened around mine when they did.
    “That means I want you to enjoy yourself too. I want to make sure you come with me, so if there’s anything you need . . . anything you like”—Abel’s mouth curled higher on one side—“please just say so. Or show me. I think you’ll find me a rather quick and eager learner.”
    Okay, now I definitely understood what he was getting at. At the same time I felt embarrassed, I felt emboldened. He was asking me what I wanted. He was offering to give it to me. Before, a man like Abel Lockwood had never looked my way, and now, he was making my dreams come true and offering to keep fulfilling them in bed.
    The problem was I had absolutely no clue how to answer him.
    “So that request about me, you know”—I waved my finger between us—“ with you? I’ve never . . . I don’t know if I can . . .” Could this be any more uncomfortable?
    “You’ve never? As in”—Abel’s forehead creased—“ never? ”
    I answered him with a shake of my head.
    “Just so I’m clear, we’re talking about orgasms, right? You’ve never had an orgasm?”
    Searching the floor, I started to wish I’d spilled the entire pie so I could focus on something other than his words and the way he was looking at me. “You’re clear on that. All of that.”
    A quiet breath hissed through his teeth.
    I might as well just get the rest out now. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to find out tomorrow night anyway. “Abel?”
    He nodded. “Yes?”
    Chewing on my lip, I stalled for a few moments before getting on with it already. “I’ve never had sex either.”
    At first, my words didn’t seem to register. His forehead stayed creased, his expression contemplative. Then realization dawned across his face. “Does that mean . . . ?”
    “Yeah.”
    He scrubbed at his face. “You’re a . . . ?”
    Shifting, I nodded. “Yes.”
    Then I made the mistake of lowering my gaze to a certain part of Abel’s anatomy that seemed to be taking that revelation with enthusiasm. With the loose fit and thin material of his pants—and I guessed he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath—he looked huge.
    “But your file. It didn’t say. I’m sure it didn’t.” He was speaking in broken sentences, still looking flustered, and that relaxed me. A little.
    “I didn’t want anyone to know,” I explained. “I didn’t want men to read that about me and have it pique their interest. I didn’t want them to view me first as a virgin