“Yeah, I guess so.” She returns her attention to the album in her hand, restraining a smile. “Well, here’s another sheltered factoid about me—I’ve never listened to music.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she peers up at me. “I was never allowed to while I was growing up.” She bites down on her lip hard, like she’s just done something terrible.

“You’ve never listened to music? Ever?” I’m astounded. She’s not just sheltered. She’s completely missed out on life.

“I did once.” She swallows hard as she returns the album to the box. “When my brother broke the rules.” Her voice cracks at the end.

“You said you haven’t seen him in six months?” I leave the question in the air.

“Yeah, I never should have told you that,” she whispers. “It just sort of slipped out.” When I stare at her in confusion, she sighs. “Look, my family doesn’t really like me talking about them, especially my brother.”

I want to ask her more, but her eyes are starting to well up. I worry that something might have happened to him. The last thing I want to do is make her talk about something painful.

“Well, then you’re in for some serious first times tonight.” I playfully grin as I select one of my more frequently used albums. I remove the record and place it on the player, aligning the needle. Then I rest back on my elbows, watching her as “Dope Calypso” by Violent Soho comes on.

She sits down on the carpet and gazes off into empty space as the music swirls around us and feeds us lyrics. Her head angles to the side, and her eyelids lower as she leans back on her arms. “I wish I knew the words,” she utters with her eyes shut. “I want to sing along… shout with the singer.” Her eyelids lift back open, and her gaze slides to me. “That probably sounded so selfish of me, didn’t it? When you can’t…” Her chest lifts and falls as she breathes rapidly.

Arching my brow, I glide my hands forward. “Can’t what?”

I shift my weight to the side, grab her arm, and pull her toward me. She rolls on her hip so we’re lying on the floor, facing each other. I take her hand and place her palm over my mouth. Then I move my lips with the words, caressing her skin with each syllable, creating noiseless lyrics.

Her lips slightly part as she observes me in fascination, her eyelids eventually drifting shut again. She looks so relaxed, at peace in the moment, absolutely content and beautiful.

Unable to help myself, I stop moving my lips and press a kiss to her palm, grazing her flesh with my tongue ring. Her eyelids flutter open, her eyes glossy and wide. Her chest heaves as she struggles for oxygen. She looks so unbelievably sexy I want nothing more than to roll on top of her and slide my tongue into her mouth.

What stops me from doing so is the simple fact that, in about fifteen minutes, I’m going to have to leave so I can go to the bar and do some highly illegal shit. I don’t want to bring her into that mess, don’t want to bring anyone into it.

I’ve hooked up since I’ve been in Laramie, but not with anyone I’ve had an actual conversation with. Usually, we only fuck, but Emery and I have already talked about personal stuff. Besides, she seems like she has her own problems to worry about.

Even though it nearly kills me, I lean back and put some space between our bodies. “See, there’s nothing I can’t do, including sing.” I teasingly wink at her, ignoring how badly my cock aches every time she takes a breath.

“Yeah…” she trails off, zeroing in on my lips.

Before I can react, she leans forward and slams her mouth against mine, kissing me with so much force my lip ring sears into her lip. The kiss is anything but smooth, and as soon as it starts, it ends as she jerks back.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, slapping her hand across her mouth. “I have no idea why I just did that. I think I’m just confused. My boyfriend usually is the one who instigates the kisses. I’ve never really wanted to kiss him like I want to kiss you, so I just thought I’d do it. But maybe I...” She stops talking, her cheeks pink with mortification.

I reach over and draw her hands away from her face then mouth, “Boyfriend?”

She sighs, growing even more flustered. “Well, I mean he was my boyfriend back home, but not anymore. We just broke up.”

I release her hands and leans back. “You said that he always kissed you and that you never wanted to kiss him?” It’s an open-ended question, one I hope she’ll finish, but I won’t push her to do so.

“Yeah.” Her cheeks puff as she blows out a breath. “I’m starting to sound really crazy, aren’t I? With all the stuff I’ve told you.”

“Not crazy. Just sheltered and…”—I rack my mind for the right word—“inexperienced.”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” she mutters, unconvinced, which makes absolutely no sense. She’s already mentioned at least three times tonight that her life has been sheltered.

“I’ll tell you what. If you really think you want to kiss me, then go ahead. I won’t stop you from your first time ever wanting to kiss a guy,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

She stares at my mouth. “Really?”

My body tenses. I have a feeling I’m about to walk into a complication, and I don’t need any more of those in my life right now. I should probably stop it, but fuck it. I want it.