Light My Fire

A virgin.

Brooke Wilder is a virgin.

This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.

Thanks, Universe, for trapping me in a cabin during a snowstorm with the first woman in years I’ve been interested in and MAKING HER A VIRGIN.

Who wants to watch Fifty Shades of Grey.

For fuck’s sake.

As if this weekend wasn’t torturous enough, now I have the image stuck in my head that some guy—some random fucking asshole—is going to be the first man to be inside her tight and eager body.

It should make it easier to shut down all thoughts of her and to steer clear of any flirting. Because her being a virgin complicates everything. If she’s waited this long to have sex, clearly she’s waiting for The One. A relationship, marriage, forever.

None of which I can give her.

The thought of marriage should be like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. And my dick.

Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working that way. My brain is fixated on her. She laughs, I want to laugh with her. She smiles, I feel immense satisfaction that she’s happy. She sat on Wyatt’s lap and my dick got hard. Rock fucking solid hard. I wanted her on my lap wiggling that perky little ass on me and yet, weirdly, didn’t mind that it was Wyatt enjoying wrapping his arms around her. At least I know he’s a decent guy. He’s a great option for her losing her virginity, to be totally honest. He’d be gentle, caring, romantic. Hell, they might end up falling in love and getting married. I wouldn’t be surprised. She could do a lot worse than to have Wyatt be her first.

Unlike me, who likes it rough and casual.

Not that she asked my opinion about how and when and with whom she should lose her virginity.

I’m so lost in my damn thoughts, I realize I’m holding a shitty hand when it’s time for the showdown in a poker round with the guys. I clearly wasn’t bluffing well either because neither folded and I lost twenty bucks.

Brooke went to bed immediately after we got out of the hot tub. I think us scattering like cockroaches after her confession made her uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to bolt. I just was in shock and I couldn’t think straight. I had to get the hell away from her sweet smile and her nearly naked body, nipples tight in her pale blue bra.

I’d say I blame Jackson and his relentless flirting, but the truth is, we needed to hear she’s a virgin. Anything any one of us was thinking before has to be viewed through a new lens. The virgin lens.

“Shit,” I grumble, eyeing Jackson’s straight. Not even a flush.

He shakes his head. “This is the worst I’ve ever seen you play poker.”

“It really is,” Wyatt says. “Maybe Brooke is right and you’re getting sick.”

“I’m not sick.” Irritated, I shove my chair back. “I need to take a piss.”

“Got it, Chief,” Wyatt says.

He only calls me that outside of work when he wants to get on my nerves.

It works.

I go through the kitchen to the powder room, trying not to think about the fact that Brooke is sleeping in the main bedroom just a few feet away behind that closed door across from the powder room. I lean my forehead against the wood, wishing I could just beat some sense into my brain. What is happening to me? I hate feeling like this—distracted and wrapped up in a woman.

After my marriage to Marci ended in brutal fashion with a DNA test proving my newborn baby wasn’t even my baby, I’ve steered clear of romantic entanglements. I have sex with women who want exactly what I want—a few hours of fun. Nothing more.

Never anything more, ever again.

It occurs to me that if Brooke opens the door I’m leaning on, I will have zero explanation for why I’m doing what I’m doing. Time to pull my shit together.

But that thought immediately evaporates when I hear something from inside her room.

It’s a buzzing sound. It’s soft, but very distinct.

I rear back, horrified.

Then immediately lean back in again, fascinated.

Maybe it’s an electric toothbrush or… I can’t think of anything else a woman would have that buzzes.

Except a vibrator.

Is she in bed, legs apart, using a vibrator to pleasure herself?

Yes. Yes, she is. Because holy shit, she’s moaning now. There is no other explanation for what’s happening.

Adjusting my dick in my jeans, I try to walk away, but my feet stay firmly planted on the floor right outside her door.

She’s panting a little, a sweet soft sound that shreds my resolve to stay the hell away from her. For a split second, I reach my hand out to knock, but then I yank it back instantly. This girl does not want me interrupting her fun.

Also, if you play with fire, you’ll get fucking burned.

If I knock and she actually invites me in, we’ll both wind up a pile of ashes.

She’s a nice girl and I’m… not available.

A guy like me has no business taking that sweet girl’s virginity. Or anything else from her.

I’m being an asshole. This is a private moment.

But then the vibrator gets louder and faster. Damn, it’s like she wants someone to hear her. The high whine of the toy still doesn’t cover her moans, though, which also seem to be getting louder. I should turn around and go back to the table. That’s the appropriate and polite thing to do. I’m forcing myself to turn when I hear her peak with a beautiful cry.

“Oh, God!” she says.

The vibrator goes silent.

Oh, God is right.

Walk away, Moody, fucking walk away.

She gives one last sigh of satisfaction.

I step back carefully, grateful I’m in socks, and praying the damn wood floor doesn’t creak. I don’t even bother going to the bathroom. My dick is too hard.

Back in the family room, Wyatt is tossing peanuts in his mouth and Jackson is scrolling through his phone.

“I can’t believe we can’t get cell phone reception here,” he says for the fifth time tonight.

“Maybe it’s the storm,” Wyatt says, also for the fifth time. “I was able to text earlier.”

“You should be able to go one night without your damn phone,” I snap, stomping to the fridge to grab a beer.

I’ve barely drank tonight but I feel hot and thirsty. I pop the top off with a bottle opener and chug half of it in one giant gulp. I set it down, gauging if I feel better.

Nope.

Still hot and thirsty.

“What is your problem, seriously?” Wyatt asks when I return to the dining table. “You’ve been off all night. Does it really bother you that much that Brooke is unexpectedly here with us for a guys’ weekend?”

“Yes,” I bark.

“Come on,” Jackson says. “She’s so sweet. She’s absolutely no bother.”

“She’s bothering me,” I say.

“How?” Jackson says, clearly astounded. “I think she’s a little scared of you. She is not going to get in your way.”

I fucking want her in my way. Very in my way.

“I just heard her masturbating,” I blurt out.

I can’t keep it inside. They need to share the horror with me of knowing that in spite of her little mic drop in the hot tub, Brooke is clearly sexual, clearly horny, and clearly not someone I can touch. At all.

Wyatt’s jaw drops.

Jackson falls back into his chair. “Are you serious?” he says, and his voice is low, intrigued.

“Yes.” I glance toward the hallway, keeping my voice low. “There was no mistaking it. Vibrator, moaning, climax.”

“You just stood there and listened?” Wyatt demands. “Jesus fuck, Luke.”

“It went very fast,” I say in my defense, pacing back and forth. “It doesn’t take much to get her off, apparently.”

That gives us all pause as we each reflect on a woman who comes quickly.

The silence lasts a good thirty seconds.

“I…” Wyatt starts to speak, then doesn’t seem to know what the hell he was going to say.

Jackson’s mouth splits into a grin. “Well, that’s a fun fact about our sweet little roommate.”

“No,” I say, sharply, pointing at him. “You heard her. She’s a virgin. That makes her off-limits.”

“Put your finger down,” Jackson says, annoyed. “Off-limits to you, maybe. Why does that make her off-limits to me?”

I didn’t really expect push back. “Because she’s not the kind of girl you just fuck on vacation. She’s a virgin. She has expectations.”

“Oh, so now you’re psychic? You know what she’s expecting?” He sits forward again. “I like her. She’s smart, she’s beautiful. I wouldn’t just fuck her.”

“I want to date her,” Wyatt says. “I think she’s incredible.”

I’m both pleased by that and jealous as fuck. “She is incredible,” I agree. “Which is why she’s off-limits.”

“To you,” Jackson repeats.

He’s right. I’m the one who said it. But I want to hear why he thinks it’s true. “Why is she off-limits to me?”

He tilts his head. “You’re the one who said she is.”

“But why?”

“Man, what are we even talking about here? You sound crazy right now.”

“I think I am crazy.” I run my hands through my hair. “But didn’t it freak you guys out that she said she’s a virgin?”

“A little,” Jackson admits. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any sexual contact with a virgin. Even when I was a virgin.”

“Right?” I plunk down in my chair. “There was nothing shy about my high school girlfriend.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Wyatt says. “Plus, it’s sexy as hell to know that you can show a woman how amazing sex can be. Help her figure out what she likes and needs. That’s pretty damn cool.”

He means it. He has a look on his face that is calm and confident. He raises his beer to his lips.

“Wyatt, I think you should be the one.” I nod my head firmly. “This is the best solution. You should be the one to take her virginity.”

Wyatt sprays beer all over the table. “What the fuck?” He swipes at his mouth. “You don’t even know she wants to lose her virginity!”

“Oh, I think what I heard is confirmation she does.”

Okay, that’s not fair. A woman can use a vibrator, her fingers, whatever she wants on her own body and it doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to involve anyone else. She didn’t know I was listening. It’s not like she was doing that to entice me.

But I can’t say out loud that I want to control how and with who it happens because I realize that sounds controlling and, well, insane, but I can’t help it. I’m going out of my fucking mind thinking about some idiot twenty-something guy not giving two shits about Brooke’s pleasure.

Wyatt stares at me, hard. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Okay, I’m in.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Jackson asks. “How about you let Brooke decide who she wants to get naked with? Maybe it’s neither of you. Maybe it’s some guy at school. Maybe it’s me.”

“She just met you,” Wyatt says.

“So? You don’t know what she wants, if anything. You sure in the hell don’t know who she wants.”

I think about it for a second. Then I turn to Wyatt. “I think it’s you.”

Jackson throws a beer cap at me. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

“I heard everything you said.” I snag a peanut from the bowl on the table. “You’re right. Brooke obviously needs to decide for herself. I didn’t mean she doesn’t. I just think that if she’s interested in having sex, it’s better it’s one of you two than some random guy we don’t know. What if he’s an asshole to her and breaks her heart?”

“Or is selfish during sex,” Jackson nods. “I get what you’re saying.” He turns to Wyatt. “We’re definitely the best options for her. So turn up the heat. Flirt harder with her.”

That makes me feel better in a way I don’t care to reflect too deeply on.

Wyatt nods. “I can do that.”

“I will too,” Jackson says. “Let’s give the girl options.”

“We have to be very clear about our intention,” Wyatt warns. “But no overwhelming her. And whatever she decides, we’re all cool with it.”

“Deal.”

“Deal,” I agree. “Now deal the next hand.”

This game just got more interesting.