“See? Nothing to it. And now you’ll be in better shape for tonight.” He goes into the bathroom and washes his hands, but to my surprise, he comes back to the bed rather than leaving me alone. Honestly, I’m not sure which I’d rather have him do right now. It isn’t exactly that I want to be alone all the time, but if the alternative is talking to him?

He doesn’t stop at sitting with me, either. No, he stretches out across the bed, lying beside me. “Do you want me to do it now?”

“Huh?”

“Fuck your ass?”

“Why in the world would I want you to do it now?”

“I’d be gentle. It would be just the two of us. It’s your first time, so I thought it might help.”

I’m still on my side, facing him. He is on his back, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. From this angle, I get a perfect shot of his profile. Strong jaw, soft lips, a smooth-shaved face, and eyes that hide so many dark thoughts.

I take a few deep breaths, taking in the fresh scent of his shampoo and aftershave while trying my best to figure him out. What could possibly be going on in his head?

And then it clicks.

It’s your first time, so I thought it might help. He’s referring to my first time with anal today, but what about my actual first time?

“The night of the rehearsal dinner. Did you have sex with me because you thought it would be easier on me?”

“Yes,” he flat-out admits. “We knew you were a virgin, and we figured it would be better for you this way.”

“We?”

“Nix and I.”

I take a minute to let that sink in. My whole perception shifts, and I remember what happened that night in a different way. I don’t know what to think. I didn’t want it to happen like it did, but thinking about how my first time would have been downstairs with James watching has bile rising in my throat.

Colt turns his head toward me. Our eyes lock.

“Was I wrong?”

“No, but it doesn’t make it less bad. None of this should happen.”

“It was the best-case scenario I could think of at the time.”

Part of me wants to ask him why Nix wasn’t there, but an even bigger part doesn’t, so I remain quiet.

“How are you feeling? Are you still crampy?”

“Yes,” I admit. “But it’s not too terrible today. I’ve had worse days.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question? Or are you just screwing with me?”

“I want to know. I always hear girls talking about cramps, but I don’t know what it feels like.”