The Billionaire's Virgin(40)

Her long lashes swept down, veiling her gaze. Her mouth had become full and soft, opening slightly as if readying herself for a kiss. And still she made no move.

It was as if she was . . . waiting for something.

So Xavier slid his hand down to the first button on her shirt and flicked it open, watching her face. Her lashes trembled slightly, her posture stiffening, but she didn’t do anything else.

He let his fingers trail lightly over her skin between where the shirt had opened. She was so warm, so smooth, all silky and soft and he’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to undo the rest of those buttons.

If it had been any other woman he would have. If it had been any other woman he would have had her on her back and been buried deep inside her in seconds. But it wasn’t any other woman, it was Mia. And he knew—he just fucking knew—that she’d never done this before. Or if she had, it hadn’t been something she’d either enjoyed or wanted.

Maybe she was raped. Ever think of that, asshole? A young woman on the streets by herself is such a target and yet here you are, just fucking going in with nothing but your own dick on your mind.

A cold thread wound through him. Careless. He was always so careless. He didn’t think things through and tended not to notice other people’s feelings. Sensitive he was not.

Yet the thought of hurting her was like pain.

He stilled his hand and began to draw it away.

“No.” The word was breathless, her gaze meeting his, wide and dark. She looked surprised, as if she hadn’t been expecting to say it either.

“No?” He found he was almost holding his breath. “No, what?”

“I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” She stopped, looking away yet again, her mouth firming.

His patience was hanging by a thread. He was either going to have to get up and leave himself or . . . Well, shit, he didn’t know what else. Maybe go and get some relief in the shower or something.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he said roughly. “So you’d better tell me what it is you do want, sweet thing.”

“I don’t know.” She sounded desperately unsure of herself. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Sex you mean?” Because he had to get this straight for both of them.

“Yes.” She ducked her head, her shoulders hunching. Which had the unfortunate—well, unfortunate in terms of his restraint—effect of widening the gap in her shirt, giving him a glimpse of the soft curves of her tits and a flash of small, pink nipples.

He dug the fingers of his other hand into the arm of the couch, not giving a shit about the leather. “So . . . you’re a virgin?”

“I guess.”

“But you know how it all works, don’t you?” A perfectly valid question when he didn’t know what her old bitch of a grandmother had told her. If she’d told her anything at all.

Her head came up at that, annoyance glittering in her eyes. “Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”

He held her gaze. “I didn’t say you were. But I need to know you understand what I want.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I see it all the time on the streets.”

Xavier let out a breath, a cold ripple of understanding washing over him. Jesus, and he could imagine what she’d seen. Prostitutes probably, and sexual assault. Sex as a transaction, as a show of power. Nothing good. Nothing pleasurable.

“What I want from you,” he said carefully, “is not in any way what you’ve seen on the streets. Do you understand? It’s about pleasure. For both of us.”

Another flicker in her eyes. “Well, yeah. Of course.”

“So you know completely what I’m talking about.” It was obvious that she didn’t—at least it was obvious to him.

She looked abruptly down at her hands again. “I mean . . . the guys seem to like it.”

And the women didn’t, clearly.

Xavier shifted, turning fully to face her, because if she thought he was going to be one of those assholes on the street, who forced women, who wanted to show off their power by hurting them, or who were just after a fuck for their own selfish reasons, then she was mistaken.

Yes, he wanted her, and maybe by chasing her, it meant he was selfish too, but he didn’t want this only for himself. He wanted this for her as well. He wanted to make her feel good, wanted to cancel out whatever she’d seen on the streets of sex and show her what it was really like.

“Look at me, Mia.”

She shook her head.

He reached out again, gripping her chin firmly and lifting her head up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. There was confusion in her eyes, and fear, all the same emotions that had been there when he’d kissed her the day before. Desire too. But did she even recognize that? Had she ever felt it before with anyone? If not, then no damn wonder she was so confused.