“Wine?” Penn asked when we got to his place.

I gulped and then nodded. “Sounds great.”

Everything had been well and good when we were back at the club, but now, I was wondering what the hell I was doing here. He lived in the building three down from mine. We’d been this close all summer. And now, I was here. In his flat. Anxiety warred with fear.

Did I tell him?

It wasn’t like I paraded around the fact that I was a virgin. It wasn’t a prime conversation starter. Amy knew, obviously. But I didn’t share the information, and I didn’t know how to say it now. It wasn’t like I could just come out and be like, Hey, P.S., I’m a virgin!

He didn’t even know that I was only eighteen and here with Amy the summer after graduation. These were things I normally thought that I’d share with the guy who was my first. And yet, here I was, with an almost stranger who seemed to know my very soul yet didn’t know my age or even my last name.

Man, I was psyching myself out.

“Hey,” Penn said, offering me a wine glass. “Everything all right?”

I took the glass from him and had a long sip. “A little…nervous, to be honest.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he said with a soft laugh. He offered me his hand and helped me to my feet.

“I just…” I stumbled over the words I wanted to say. To tell him the truth. And yet, they didn’t come.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” He took my hand. “Just come with me.”

He guided me out of the living room, down a hallway, past the elevator service we’d used to reach the top floor, and to a closed door at the end of the hall. He opened the door and turned on a lamp, revealing what was clearly his bedroom. It was decorated in neutral white and blues with a king-size bed taking up much of the space aside from a desk that was littered with papers. His notebook was on top of a pile of books on the nightstand. Otherwise, it was spotless. Unlike the bedroom I had been living in all summer long.

“I love your place.” I took another big swallow of wine and then stepped inside.

“Thanks.” He set his keys down on the dresser and then slid his suit jacket off. He draped it across the back of the chair. So casual. He wasn’t nervous at all. This was his place, and he was utterly in his element.

He clicked a button for a speaker and pulled his phone out of his pocket to play some music. The soothing voice of Ray LaMontagne eased my nerves.

“‘Such a Simple Thing’?” I guessed. “I love this song.”

“It’s my favorite of his.”

He leaned back against the chair at his desk and observed me wandering his space. I straightened my shoulders and stepped around his bed.

“I love ‘Shelter.’”

“Also a classic.”

“You have good taste in music,” I told him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

He chuckled. “Depends on who you ask.”

I laughed softly and kicked my heels off at the foot of the bed. I was glad to finally be out of those things. “Liar.”

“I am proficient at a number of things, but I assure you, there are plenty of people who think that I’m not great at anything.”

“Like who?” I glanced over at him with an arched eyebrow.

“My father.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “Well, I’m going to go on record and say that his opinion doesn’t matter.”

Penn scoffed. “He doesn’t agree with that either.”

“Well tonight, you’re living a different life, remember? You don’t have to live under his expectations. You can just be you.”

He tilted his head slightly and observed me. It was as if he couldn’t quite place me. As if what I’d said really struck a chord with him.

I turned away from that look and continued toward the nightstand. I plucked his notebook from where it rested and held it aloft. “Ah, the famous notebook.”

I flipped open the leather binding and opened it to the first page, but before I even read a word, Penn’s hand came down and shut the cover.

“You don’t want to look in there.”

“Oh,” I said in surprise. “Is it your diary?”

“Worse.” He took the worn leather notebook out of my hands. “Philosophical ramblings. I’d bore you to tears.”

“I doubt that.”

“You don’t want to hear my ethical diatribes. Trust me,” he said, placing the notebook back where I’d gotten it.

A part of me yearned to pick it back up and read all of his ethical diatribes. There must be something juicy and interesting in there if he didn’t want me to read it. At the same time, I knew that was ridiculous because it wasn’t as if I let other people read my work. I was way too embarrassed to put myself out there. All I’d ever wanted to be was a writer, but actually letting people read my work was another matter. The writing was so much easier than the potential criticism. Or as I always considered it…the inevitable criticism. One day, I’d get my words out there, be an author and not just a writer, but I understood why Penn wasn’t ready either.

The song shifted, and I nearly swooned when Calum Scott’s “You Are the Reason” came on. Damn, he really had good taste in music.

I opened my mouth to say that again when Penn turned to face me. His eyes drifted to my lips and then back up. The space hovered between us. He reached out and took my wine glass from me, removing what had only ever been a perceived barrier between us. He set it down on the nightstand and then stepped in closer to me.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told me.

A hand cupped my cheek. Those cerulean eyes staring deep into my own. The amazing night we’d had spread out before me.

What more could I ask for? This was everything I’d wanted my time in Paris to be. If anything, I wished we’d happened sooner. I wished that I didn’t have just one last night but instead had the whole summer with him.

He dragged my chin upward and kissed me full on the mouth. A possessive kiss that said I was his now. That this was how things were going to be. And I didn’t want to back out. I wanted this, tonight, here with him. Nerves and expectations be damned. His mouth on mine, his fingers in my hair, his body pressed into me. I couldn’t turn down what he was offering. I wouldn’t even if I wanted to. And I didn’t. I wanted him.

My body was on fire, and this moment with him only coaxed the flames.

His lips moved to my cheek, then my ear, and then down my neck. He turned me in place, trailing light kisses across my shoulder. Goose bumps erupted on my skin when he hit one spot, and I couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving me.

“Here?” he asked, kissing me again.

“Oh,” I panted.

His tongue darted out and caressed my neck. My whole body shuddered. It was a total trigger. Something so romantic and erotic that just set me off.

His fingers deftly slid to the zipper on my dress, and he moved down my back and over my ass. I inhaled sharply at the cold air on my heated skin. But I didn’t want him to stop. I was glad that I’d had a glass of wine so that I had the courage to keep going. I wasn’t as drunk as I’d been at the club. I wanted to remember this night after all. But a little liquid courage didn’t hurt anyone.

I leaned back against him, pressing our bodies together. Then, he slipped the sleeves of my dress off of my shoulders. It eased down my body, over my breasts, and then my hips before pooling at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my black strapless bra and matching lace thong.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “The things I want to do to your body.”

He ran his hands down my bare skin. My heart rate accelerated with every touch. He kissed that spot again, and I shivered.

“Wha-what do you want to do?”

He popped the hook and eye on my bra, and it fell to the ground, my breasts hanging pert and exposed.

“This.”

He caressed my breasts, gently kneading them until I felt wetness pooling in my panties. He pinched one nipple before bringing the other up to his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I breathed.

“And this,” he said, tugging the comforter down and pressing me back into the bed.

He ran his mouth down my stomach until he reached the lace of my thong. Biting into the material, he pulled my panties off and hoisted my legs up onto his shoulders. My cheeks flamed at the positioning as he kissed his way up my inner thighs.

I sat up as embarrassment coursed through me. I’d had guys go down on me before, but it had always been an afterthought. Something to do after I gave a blow job. And Penn had already given me an incredible orgasm. I should probably reciprocate that before we got any further.

“Penn, maybe I should…” I sat up, trying to stop him from continuing.

He eased me back into a lying position. “No one’s ever complained about multiple orgasms.”

And really, I couldn’t argue with that.

A kiss on my knee. My thigh. Up, up, up. Traveling north. My legs quivered in anticipation. My core throbbed with each kiss, with every inch he moved closer to the exact spot I wanted him.

He licked once, tasting, testing. I thought I was going to come already. Just that one easy movement had me aching to release.

“This is what I want,” he told me. Our eyes met between the V of my legs. “I want to eat your pussy until the only taste on my lips is you.”

My jaw dropped, and my whole body flushed. No one had ever talked to me like that. It wasn’t like high school guys were in it for more than theirs. Penn was different. He was older, more mature. A man.

Then, he did exactly what he’d said he was going to do. He licked and sucked and lapped at me until I was shaking nonstop. He inserted a finger and then another, owning my body and curling up inside me.

Noises escaped me that I hadn’t known it was possible for me to make. Little animals mewls and gasping, “Yes, yes, yes!” that felt like it shook the rooftops.

My orgasm hit me afresh. Clamping down on his fingers, practically holding him in place. His soft laugh registered through the buzzing in my ears. It was clear that he also was enjoying the high that I was riding. Enjoying it immensely. Enjoying it so much that I was going to need to do something about it.