Sweet Trilogy: Sweet Talk / Sweet Spot / Sweet Trouble

She resurfaced a few minutes later and opened her eyes. Wyatt grinned at her.

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Had she done it wrong?

“You’re amazing.”

Okay. That sounded nice. “Um, why?”

“You’re perfectly responsive. I knew exactly what you liked. There wasn’t any guessing. Thanks for that. There’s nothing worse than working in silence.”

She didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. “I really liked that.”

“Good. Me, too.” He pushed into a kneeling position. “Touching you like that, listening to you, made me crazy. I was afraid I was going to lose it.” He shifted closer and pressed against her. “That’s still a possibility.”

Lose what? She hated being an idiot.

She felt him pushing against her, the way he had last night. Only now the prospect didn’t seem scary at all. She wanted him inside of her, showing her everything.

Tentatively, she put her hands on his shoulders and smiled. “Do whatever makes you feel good.”

Not an invitation that guaranteed control, Wyatt thought, trying to distract himself while he still could. He didn’t usually have a timing problem, but there had been something about pleasing Claire that had gotten to him.

It was that damn chemistry, he reminded himself. He couldn’t think straight when she was dressed.

Now that he’d seen her naked and touched her all over, he was a total goner.

He pushed in slowly, giving her time to adjust to him. She was wet and swollen and still quivering from her orgasm. It was all he could do not to come right then, but he was determined to make up for his piss-poor performance from the previous night. Besides, he wanted to make it last.

He pulled back, then filled her again, waiting for her to move against him. When she didn’t, he glanced down at her, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Her eyes were closed. “Claire? Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Any preferences?”

She shook her head and smiled at him.

Something was wrong. He could feel it, but he couldn’t figure out what “it” was. He knew she’d climaxed before. He’d felt it, heard it and seen it. She’d flushed all over, had trembled in his embrace. He’d felt her contractions.

He pushed in again and she wrapped her arms around him.

“This,” she breathed. “I want this.”

It was the encouragement he’d been waiting for. He filled her over and over again, going faster, yet holding back, hoping to feel her tensing along with him, crying out her release. It wasn’t there, which bothered him, but before he could stop, the pressure built until it was too much and he drove into her for the last time.

Afterward, he lay on his back, her curled up against him. He played with her hair as she rested her hand on his chest.

“That was great,” she told him happily. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

While he appreciated the compliment, something nagged at him. Something he couldn’t get his mind around.

Was it possible Claire wasn’t that experienced?

Given her fame and lifestyle, he would have assumed she had lovers all over the world. But maybe she was too busy. Or something. It had to be circumstances, because she was sexy as hell. But how to find out?

“I wanted to make it good for you,” he began, not sure what to say next.

She laughed. “Good doesn’t come close. Trust me. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.”

As soon as the words came out, she stiffened. He wasn’t feeling too relaxed, either.

He wanted to believe she meant she’d never climaxed before, but how was that possible? She certainly hadn’t been difficult to push over the edge. Women who had trouble with that usually mentioned the fact ahead of time. If Claire was up-front enough to come to his house to seduce him, she would be comfortable telling him the road home could be bumpy. But she hadn’t said a word. Why?

She sat up and gave him a pained smile. “I didn’t mean that exactly.”

He looked at her. “What did you mean?”

“That I, um, well…” She swallowed. “I don’t have a lot of experience with sex.”

He had a cold, hard knot in his gut. “How much are we talking about?”

She pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “I was a virgin.”

She kept talking but he didn’t hear anything but a rushing sound. A virgin? A virgin?

Without thinking, he scrambled out of bed and pulled on his jeans. This was not happening to him. It couldn’t be. A virgin? She was twenty-eight.

“How?”

She sighed. “How did it happen? How is it possible? It just is. I don’t meet a lot of men, I’m not willing to be with someone interested in volume. There are a dozen reasons and they don’t really matter.” She raised her gaze to him. Her eyes were dark and filled with confusion. “Are you mad?”

He didn’t want to hurt her. In theory he supposed he should be thrilled in some primal, macho way. He was the only sexual partner she’d ever had. In truth, what he wanted most was to bolt for freedom.

“You’re mad,” she said.

“No. Just confused. Why me?”

She shrugged. “I like the way you kiss.”

As simple as that? A virgin?

He watched her mouth begin to tremble. He guessed that tears wouldn’t be too far behind.

“Claire.” He sat on the bed. “It’s okay. Seriously. You surprised me—I never would have guessed that.”

She perked up. “Really?”