He's waiting for a response. This is the moment in any other interaction with a guy that I would cut and run. But it’s not possible to run from Barrett. He’s my fake boyfriend for another month. I’ll have to see him again. That and he’s got me boxed in right now so there is literally no escaping.

“Do you want to know why I laughed at dinner when you said you wanted to eat me?” I ask.

“Yes.” His gaze is intent on my face.

“Because I was nervous.”

“You thought that I was…” Barrett’s expression moves from confusion to concern. “I would never force myself on you. On any woman. Which maybe doesn’t ring true with the fact that you are reluctantly pretending to be my girlfriend for a business deal, but I would never physically force myself on you.”

“I believe you. That’s not what I was nervous about.”

“Okay. What was it?” he asks.

“I’ve never done that before,” I admit.

“Had sex?” His deep voice makes his words carry and I glance around in a panic.

“You are so loud right now!”

“You’re the one yelling.”

“No. Not sex,” I whisper. “I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex before. The other stuff. It kind of got skipped over.”

I wait until it clicks into place.

“Oral sex.”

“Stop saying sex.”

He nods, studying me for a beat before leaning closer. He almost looks angry. “It sounds like you’ve been fucking idiots who only cared about getting their dicks wet.”

“Two idiots. That’s how many I’ve had sex with.”

Barrett nods but doesn’t say anything else. I don’t know what I expect him to say. I’m dying to know how many women he’s slept with but also not because the thought of him with another woman kind of makes me want to throw up. That could also be the wine swirling around in my stomach.

His silence on the subject of my inexperience makes me paranoid. Does he think it’s weird?

“The fact that no one has tasted you is a real shame, but it’s a mistake I don’t plan on making. The thought of it turns me on even more.”

My eyes widen at Barrett’s statement. It’s both thrilling and nerve wracking.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yes.”

With one hand cupping my jaw, Barrett presses his lips to mine.

His phone starts ringing the second our lips connect.

He curses, pulling away to take his phone out of his pocket. I want to throw his phone in the bushes and beg him to put his lips back on mine. Maybe I’ll put that on my list.

“Hello?” he answers, his tone clipped, but then it softens. “What?” When his gaze returns to me, his eyes are wide. “Okay, we’re on our way.”