CJ

Are you really going to do this? Really? For real? A voice inside my head keeps squeaking, but I ignore that wimpy coward because this is GO time.

This is the real deal.

This is do-or-die.

The stars are aligning, and the universe has given me the big thumbs-up for Operation V Card. You might not think it would be that hard for a reasonably attractive woman who isn’t overly needy, smelly, or allergic to showers to lose her virginity, but you’d be wrong. I’ve been trying to get rid of this albatross hanging around my neck for years, but I’m looking down the barrel of age twenty-six with no acceptable de-flower-er in sight.

At least, not until now . . .

Now, Graham needs something from me—something that I’m happy to give because I’ve always believed in his vision for his company—and I need something from him. Things couldn’t be going more perfectly if I’d scripted this brunch chat.

And sure, it’s going to be weird, but it’s always been weird between Graham and me. Graham, who I’ve lusted after since before I really knew what lust was. Even when I first laid eyes on him, back when he was seventeen and Sean’s best friend, he was all man—broad shoulders, narrow waist, stubble-lined jaw, and a deep, husky voice that sent shivers down my spine. He ignited all my preteen fantasies. I daydreamed about Graham giving me my first kiss behind the pool house almost as often as I daydreamed about winning a road race cycling medal at the Summer Olympics.

At eleven, kisses and personal achievements comfortably coexist. At twenty-five, it’s so much harder, especially in a city like New York, where everyone under the age of thirty is obsessed with success.

Professional success, not personal relationship success. No one wants to fall in love before thirty-five anymore, and even sex is something guys seem to want to pick up at a drive-through window. Or, better yet, have delivered by an Uber driver—sex and a side of cheesy fries from the diner down the block, please and thank you.

If I wait around to find the perfect guy on a dating app or at happy hour in the Meatpacking District, I’m going to be the world’s oldest living virgin, and that is not a title I’m interested in holding.

Yes. All in. No backing out now. I flip my hair over my shoulder and straighten my spine. Graham’s gaze flicks down to my chest before darting just as quickly back to my eyes.

Oh my God, Graham just looked at my boobs! Aha! This is going to work! It’s really going to work! Thank you, sexy yellow dress!

But when he speaks, his voice is cooler than it was before. “Oh, yeah? What exactly have you been thinking long and hard about, Ceej?”

I take a deep breath, blurting it out before I lose my courage, “I’ve been thinking about asking you to teach me things. Personal things.”

He stares blankly, and for a moment I’m not sure he heard me. He brings his water to his lips and drinks again. “Teach you personal things like . . .?”

I sit tall, even as I twist my cloth napkin in circles in my lap. “You might think it’s easy to date in this city, but it’s not. At all.”

“Oh, I know it’s not easy.” Graham rolls his eyes, proving he at least sort of gets where I’m coming from. “It’s a minefield out there.”

“Yes, it is!” I agree, nodding a little too fast. “A minefield, and I know I’m going to step on a bomb sooner or later. But I don’t want to step on just any bomb, you know what I mean? I want it to be a nice bomb. A, um . . . skilled bomb, who knows how to bomb effectively.”

The metaphor isn’t working. Graham looks more confused with every passing moment, and the waiter is circling behind him like a bird of prey ready to swoop down and snatch our menus, and this opportunity, from my hands.

I have to act now, before it’s too late.

“This is the thing.” I lift my hands, fingers spread wide, showing him I have nothing to hide. I’m putting it all out there and hoping he’ll have mercy on me. “When Dad moved to Greece with Betty after I finished college, Sean was so hyper protective that men were too scared to set foot on my doorstep. No lie. And then Sean died, and I was so sad I didn’t care about dating for a long time.”

Graham’s gaze softens. “I know. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want . . .” I swallow hard. “I want to move on. I want to be a normal twenty-five-year-old woman, but I feel like I’m so far behind I’ll never catch up, you know? I’m drowning in all the things I don’t know. So I just need . . . I need you to teach me about . . . about . . .”

About sex! Just say it, CJ!

Sex, intercourse, coitus, banging, the horizontal hula, the bow-chicka-wow-wow.

Woodenly, I erupt with, “Nookie.”

Graham stares at me, his eyes wide and unreadable for one beat—two, three—while my heart crawls into my throat and puffs up like a blowfish.

Oh God, I’ve ruined everything. He’s going to tell me I’m insane. He’s going to tell me that the thought of me in a sexual situation makes him nauseous, and I’m going to feel like a fool for every single flirty thing I said to him. I never should have led with the long and hard bit. I shouldn’t have tried to make this funny or cute—I should have just laid out my proposal with a calm voice and a level head, ensuring I could walk away with my chin up if he said “no, thanks.”

I expect him to bolt for the door any second.

Instead, he puts his glass down, hitting the edge of the table and sloshing water onto the gravel beside us, earning a dirty look from the busgirl tidying up at a nearby table.

He clears his throat as he rights the glass, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said ‘nookie,’” I repeat, my cheeks still burning. “But, you know, use your own word. I’m open.”

“You’re open,” he echoes, still sounding vaguely strangled, though he’s unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “Open to what exactly?”

“Graham, I’m twenty-five, and I spend most nights at home watching television or at the gym riding a bike that’s going nowhere,” I confess, embarrassed, though this isn’t news to him. He knows I’m practically a nun. He teases me about it often enough. “I want more than that. I want an adult relationship, but other adults don’t want me.”

“You’re crazy. I—”

“I’m not crazy. I’m inexperienced, and the real grown-ups can sense that, and it scares them away. That leaves me with the weird candle guys and the losers looking for a meaningless hookup.” He starts to interrupt me, but I barrel on. “I want more than that. But I don’t have the skills to seal the deal, and at this rate, I’m never going to get them unless I go to drastic measures to catch up. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so.” A flush creeps up Graham’s neck as he shakes his head. “But you can’t seriously be saying you want me to . . .”

His gaze drops to my breasts again, lingering long enough on the place where my dress gives way to skin that it gives me the strength to nod and murmur, “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He swallows hard, looking over one shoulder and then the other before turning back to me with a harsh whisper, “Sean would cut my dick off. Not to mention the fact that you and I—” He motions between us with a swift jerk of his hand. “We’re friends, CJ. Just friends. I don’t think of you like that.”

“And that’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to think of me as anything but a friend. And a student. I’ll be a good student, I promise. I’m a fast learner. Especially when I’m invested in the subject matter.”

Graham’s eyes lift to the blue sky overhead as he mumbles something that sounds like a prayer for strength.

I sigh, my hope fading. But this is my one shot at getting what I need from the only man left in the world I trust, and I’m not going to give up so easily. Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced in other areas, like speaking my mind or campaigning for my goals. And, like a good businesswoman, I plan on keeping this deal with Graham on the transactional level. Sure, I’ve lusted after the man. He’s as handsome as anything, and a total softie beneath his occasionally gruff exterior.

None of that matters in this situation, however. I’m focused, determined, and completely able to separate my heart from my head, just like I have to do at work when juggling my roles as friend and boss.

That’s what I’ll do if he says yes.

I must convince him to say yes.

“Graham, I’m sick of feeling like a fish on a bicycle every time I’m in mixed company. Sure, men check me out, but as soon as they realize I have no idea how to flirt, let alone anything else, their interest fades pretty quickly.” I keep my head up, refusing to feel ashamed. “For once, I want to feel sexy. Like I know what I want and I know how to get it. I thought you, of all people, would understand that.”

Graham sighs. “CJ, you’re an intelligent, successful woman. And you’re a fucking knockout.”

He thinks I’m a knockout? He’s never said anything like that before. Never. Not even last New Year’s Eve when I wore my red cleavage dress to the Adored holiday party.

“You could have any man you want,” he continues, proving he hasn’t been listening. “You don’t need me. And you don’t want me, trust me.”

With my eyes fixed on his, I lean in until our faces are only a few inches apart, and I play my ace. “But I do want you, Graham. I’ve heard the rumors. You may not be aware of it, but your ex-girlfriends talk. A lot. And they have nothing but good things to say.” I pause, arching a meaningful brow. “About everything.”

His eyes glitter. “I’m far from the only man in the city with that kind of reputation.”

“True. But you’re the only one who’s my friend.” I lace my fingers together as I add, “I trust you, Graham. I know you won’t hurt me or take advantage of me or make me feel like a fool if I don’t get it all right straight out of the gate. You’re the only one I can ask a favor like this.”

He frowns, but I can see him weakening. “What exactly are we talking about? What do you want me to teach you?”

“Well, the exact lesson plan is up to you.” I shrug one shoulder, playing it casual so I won’t scare him away. “But I would like it to be thorough. I want to be well-versed in all areas.”

He starts to look shell-shocked again. “All areas?”

“Yes. Well, you know. Oral. That’s a must. And all the normal stuff. But I’d also like to branch out. Be a little adventurous, you know? Maybe some role-playing or light bondage if things are going well—that sort of thing.” I shrug again, fighting to suppress a nervous giggle. I’ve never said most of those things aloud before, let alone asked a guy to help me do them. In the interest of keeping my cool, I conclude with, “I just want to be able to drive a man crazy. To please and satisfy him in every way.”

Graham moves his napkin from his lap to the table.

Swallows.

Clears his throat.

He clears his throat again as he crosses his arms at his chest.

“And I should probably mention that I’m a virgin,” I blurt, figuring it’s better to get it all out up front so he knows the deep water he’s thinking about wading into.

His eyes bulge in response, but I’m ready for him. This isn’t the first time I’ve shocked and appalled someone with my ancient V card.

“I know.” I lift my hands at my sides, my palms facing Graham. “It’s unusual. I get it, but going to an all-girls college was not conducive to losing my virginity. At all. Add in the fact that I lived with my brother when I first moved to Manhattan, and everything that happened after, and the stars did not align. And now that I’ve started dating again, well . . . I feel a bit radioactive. Men are a lot weirder about sleeping with virgins than you would think.”

Graham’s expression is an eloquent mixture of amusement, horror, and disbelief that would be funny if I wasn’t feeling like I just flashed my underwear in church. I can’t remember the last time I felt so completely exposed, all my secrets and hopes twisting in the wind, waiting to see what Graham will decide to do with them.

After a long, silent moment, he grunts.

Once. One grunt.

“So, is that one grunt for a no?” I ask, brows lifting. “Or one for a yes?”

His blue eyes blaze at me, shining with . . . something new. Something dark and delicious that makes my skin heat and a series of delicious and slightly terrifying tingles dance from my lips to the tips of my toes and back again.

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t, even if I thought it was a good idea—which I don’t. I’m on a sabbatical.”

I frown. “A sabbatical? From . . . sex?”

“Yep,” he says, a smirk curving his lips. “A sex-batical.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Excessive emoji use for one.”

“That makes you monk it up?”

He nods. “But more than that, sex complicates things, and I need to be zeroed in on business. It’s all work and no women until I calm the skittish shareholders. I’m all about Adored right now. I made a promise to myself, and I don’t break my promises.”

“I see,” I say, my eyes narrowing on his as I decide to play dirty. “But I’m not really a woman. I’m just CJ, your friend and a shareholder you need to back you up at the next board meeting, right?”

“Caroline Jessica,” Graham says, my full name a warning. “You wouldn’t . . .”

“Oh, but I would.” I smile sweetly. “So, my friend, in exchange for one week of sexual education, I will do whatever you want me to do next Monday. I’ll tap-dance on the boardroom table if you think that’s necessary. Though, for the record, I believe in your vision for Adored and that you’re the only person qualified to lead the company. And I will express that eloquently to the board . . . assuming you agree to play ball.”

“Christ . . .” Graham’s eyes close as his fingers come to rub his temples.

“Think it over, and let me know.” I stand, picking up my clutch and gift bag. We haven’t eaten—hell, we haven’t even ordered—but there’s no way I’m going to be able to sit across the table from Graham and force down food after a conversation like this one.

It’s time to make my exit and hope I’m leaving with the upper hand.

I pause at the door leading out of the patio to wave goodbye and find Graham watching me with that new, not-entirely-safe look in his eyes again, and I shiver.

Part of the shiver is fear. What if this ruins things between us? Sure, I have other friends, but no one I’ve known as long or cared about as much as Graham. What if he says no and decides never to talk to me again?

Then another voice in my head whispers, And what if he says yes? Are you ready for that, Caroline Jessica Murphy?

But as I flee the restaurant and head out onto Amsterdam Avenue, the electrified feeling lifting the hair at the back of my neck has nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with possibility.