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reasons why this shouldn’t be happening, I don’t want it to stop.”
    Brett couldn’t help herself. She pressed her small knee against his larger one. The sight of their two denim knees together just seemed so normal and right to her. He was just a guy, after all, handsome and smart and totally irresistible. She slowly moved her hand over to his leg and rested it there, admiring the feel of his muscled thigh beneath her shimmering light lavender nails. Suppressing a giggle, she remembered the name of the Hard Candy polish she had picked out of Callie’s makeup bag: Jailbait.
    “I just …” Eric shrugged and brushed an invisible piece of hair off his face. “I just think you’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.”
    She felt drunk even though she’d hardly touched her wine. She moved her face toward his, slowly, keeping her eyes focused on his lips. Finally she met his lips with hers and felt an electric sensation course through her.
    After a long, lingering kiss, he pressed his lips to her throat. She couldn’t help remembering the last time they were together, on his boat, when they had started taking off each other’s clothes. There she was, completely naked in Eric’s bed, when she suddenly realized she wasn’t ready to do it yet. But this time, she was sure. Who better to share her first time with than someone so incredible … who thought she was
amazing?
    But as Eric breathed into her neck and his hands inched toward her breasts, she couldn’t help feeling, once again, that he was just
too
good at this. He knew exactly how to touch her, which was, in a way, hypnotically exciting. But whenever she started to think too much about it, which she couldn’t help doing, she could picture him doing the exact same thing with some generic girl in her place, who he called amazing and maybe even made the same joke to about the family weakness for redheads, or blondes, or freckles, or whatever the girl happened to have. How many girls—or
women
—had he been with on this very couch, in this candlelit living room? The thought made her immediately self-conscious, and her body froze up.
    Eric pulled away from her and looked at her face questioningly. “ I—I think I might not be ready just yet,” she stammered, feeling like the biggest baby in the world. She stared at her lap and concentrated on holding back the tears that threatened to come spilling out.
    “That’s fine, Brett.” Eric placed his hands on her cheeks. “Look at me—don’t worry about it. There’s no hurry—we’ll take it slow.”
    Brett looked up. “I’m sorry I’m such a … ,” she started to say.
    “A what? A beautiful, sexy girl?” He laughed, and Brett smiled sheepishly. “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere. We can take our time.” He held out his arms, and Brett collapsed against him in relief, enjoying how his body felt wrapped, fully clothed, around hers. She’d be ready soon; she could tell. Just not yet.
    Two hours later, Brett lay partially clothed with Eric dozing next to her, beneath smooth Egyptian cotton sheets that had to be like a thousand thread count. And as nice and sexy and sweet as it was, Brett couldn’t help thinking about how her own bed would feel at that moment. She could almost hear the soft whimpering noises Callie made in her sleep. Eric’s manly snores kind of reminded her of her father. She wished she had just slept with him and gotten her first time over with—she wouldn’t feel like such a kid, and it would make the next time even easier. Needing to pee, she slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him.
    She reached for the pair of Ralph Lauren silk pajama bottoms on his bureau to pull on over her underwear. As she tightened the drawstring around her waist, a streak of moonlight illuminated the top of the dresser. Next to Eric’s sleek black Italian leather wallet lay a plastic baggie of marijuana. Brett picked it up and sniffed inside to be sure. Eric, a pothead? Brett had