She shook her head almost immediately, the movement small against my shoulder. "It's not weird," she whispered. "It's just… new."
New.
That word hung between us, soft and honest.
And my brain snagged on it.
New?
I mean… look at her.
Aria was the kind of beautiful that turned heads without trying. The tight jeans, the curves that made my dick hard from the second I saw her on the stairs, that smile guys would kill for. She walked into a room and owned it without knowing she did.
Girls like that don't usually get to college without… something. A boyfriend in high school. Parties. Curious nights. Hands under shirts in dark cars. Something.
There's just no way she's never had a guy begging to let her touch him. No way she's never felt this before.
Right?
But the way she was holding me now—careful, almost reverent, fingers shaking just a little every time I throbbed against her palm—didn't feel like an act. It didn't feel like teasing or false innocence.
It felt real.
