As it is, a small grunt escapes me, and I hurry to speak. “I’m getting into bed too.”

“Jesus, you really are acting like an old man. Are you sure you’re all right?” The affection in her tone comes through loud and clear. “I feel like I ought to be pressing a hand to your fevered brow.”

“I’m tired, Mac,” I tell her lightly. “And if you don’t cut it out, I’m going to hang up. Would serve you right if I am sick and end up wasting away from some sort of Victorian disease. And then how will you feel? Knowing you let me go.”

“What kind of disease are we talking about? Like consumption? Or cholera?” Mac snickers into the phone. “If it’s cholera, you’re on your own, Cupcake.”

“Cute.” I rest my hand behind my head, getting more comfortable. “Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“You said it was bad. The sex, I mean, and—”

“Gray!” Her exasperation is sharp. “Didn’t we just agree not to talk about that anymore?”

I wince, feeling like an ass and cursing my big mouth. “Shit, yes. I know. It’s… Okay, fine, it’s bugging me. Not,” I interject before she can speak, because I can hear her taking an indignant breath, “because you aren’t having sex. But you said it was bad. And I want to know why.” My heart pounds against my ribs. “Did he… Did he hurt you, honey?”

It’s inexcusable that I haven’t made certain until now. And I will burn the fucking earth down if he did.

Mac’s soft voice comes at me through the buzzing in my head. “No, Gray. No, not that.” She goes silent, and I take the moment to draw in a deep, not-so-steady breath, nodding even though she can’t see me. Relief makes me sag further into the pillows.

When she speaks again, her voice is low and tense. “It was just…Gah! The foreplay was awesome. I wanted it, Gray. Badly, you know?”

Again, I nod. My voice seems to have left the building. I don’t really want to think about some fuckwit giving Ivy “awesome” foreplay. Why did I have to ask?

“I mean, I planned for it, went to the doctors and got on the pill and—”

“That’s some dedicated planning for your first time.”

She makes an annoyed noise. “I know. But that’s how I am. I plan. I commit. And I don’t trust condoms to—”

“You don’t?”

“To protect against diseases, yeah, but you do realize they have about an eighteen percent failure rate for birth control?”

I don’t want to even think about failure rates. The idea that little Grays could be out there gives me the willies. But I chuckle instead, wanting to change the subject. “Okay, okay, lesson learned, Doctor Sex Ed.”

She snorts. “I was sixteen. I did not want to get pregnant, and I figured if I worried about that, I wouldn’t have any fun.”

And that strange dichotomy is my Ivy. Insane planner mixed with a free spirit who goes with the flow. A surge of affection hits me, and I sink further into the pillows.

“Anyway,” she drawls as if to say I’d taken her off track and not to do it again, “I was all in. But then we got down to it, and he basically…er…”

I can almost hear her embarrassment.

“He didn’t get the job done?” I offer wryly.

She huffs out a laugh. “It was just so fast. Jab, jab, jab, strangled cry, done!”

Despite myself, I laugh too. “Pretty sure that’s how most high school guys do it, Mac.”

“Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard, most college guys do it that way too. Once they get the green light, it’s so long, foreplay, hello, fast fuck. Thanks, but no thanks.”

And what can I say to that? We can be selfish bastards. I wince inwardly, thinking of the times I took my own pleasure, accepting it as truth when the girl beneath me acted as if I was a god simply because I chose to stick my dick into her. My face burns. Fuck, I’m an asshole.

Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose, as I talk. “How would you want it to go, Mac? If you could have it your way?”

“What?” There’s a protracted half-laugh from her. “Sex?”

“Yeah.” My voice is weak, barely audible, but I have to ask her.

The silence on the other end has a weight that I feel in my chest. “Come on, Mac,” I say. “It’s just me.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe because most of us guys need a wakeup call.”

Maybe because I want to know how to please you. Or I’m a dirty bastard who needs to hear your honey-smooth voice talk about sex. Take your pick.

Anxious yet filled with anticipation, I rub the flat of my belly again. “Tell me,” I murmur. “Tell me how it would be good for you.”

Her breath hitches and for a moment I think I’ve gone too far. But when she speaks, it’s in a whisper that has an edge to it, one that sends heat straight to my cock. Because she sounds excited, tempted. “Just between us?”

My breathing picks up, lighter, faster. God, this is stupid. So fucking stupid, like opening Pandora’s box. I’ll regret it, I know. And yet… “Just between us.”

She makes a little, strangled noise. “I can’t… Okay, okay. Screw it.” Another soft breath that has me clenching, and then, “It would start out slow. Just kissing. That lazy sort of kissing that goes on and on, all soft and melting, until you’re drugged with it and your lips are all swollen and sensitive. And you’re just kind of breathing each other in, you know?”