“Oh, Sage, I can’t hold back any longer,” he cried. He gripped her hips and pulled her down hard on his solid shaft.
Pleasure evaporated. A sharp pain ripped through her and her eyes shot open, her body tensing. Everything seemed to go quiet as Spence froze with their bodies still locked together. He pulled back just a bit and looked into her eyes, his own rounded.
“Are you a virgin?”
Oh, she didn’t want to play truth or dare anymore. She didn’t want to answer this question. Why did the female body generally have to be so obvious when it hadn’t had sex before? Why must there be a barrier for a man to discover?
“Seriously, Sage, are you a virgin?”
“Yes. Or, well, I was a couple of minutes ago,” she finally said, trying to make a joke of it. He didn’t laugh.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a calm and gentle voice. “Why did you allow me to hurt you like this?” He began pulling out of her, and she panicked.
“No. Don’t stop, Spence. I don’t want to stop. I . . . I don’t know why I waited so long, but I chose you,” she said before she was able to stop the words.
“Sage, this changes things,” he said, and then pulled his body from hers, leaving her feeling empty and rejected.
“It changes nothing, Spence,” she said, on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’m still me, just no longer a virgin.”
“I can’t do this. I just can’t, Sage.”
The sting of his rejection was almost too much to bear. She certainly didn’t want to look at him. He pulled her back to him as his hand trailed down her back. His touch was no longer comforting, though, it was humiliating.
“I’m sorry, Sage. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“It doesn’t matter, Spence. Please let me go.” She was too mortified to sit there and talk about her feelings. She wouldn’t beg him to make love to her again.
Without another word, he released her, and Sage climbed from the tub, grabbed the towel she’d discarded, and practically ran inside his house and straight up to the guest room. She wanted to leave badly enough to risk going out on the snowmobile, but she knew better.
It would just be a very long night in his oversized home. She’d spend it facing the humiliation of a second rejection by the man she’d loved for the better part of her life.
THE NEXT MORNING, when Camden showed up to give her a ride home in his truck, she was more than grateful. It was time to start forgetting about Spence Whitman. She had warned herself when he was flirting with her that he only wanted one thing. She just hadn’t realized that he’d wanted it with an experienced woman.
“Spill the beans right now!”
“Huh?” Sage turned toward Grace and lifted an eyebrow before she faced the tree again and checked it over. It had to be perfectly decorated. The ornaments had to be spaced evenly to give it the best appeal, and everything needed to be in its place. She knew she was ridiculously over the top when decorating, but she couldn’t help it. The people around her would just have to deal with her holiday OCD.
Besides, it was something she could control in her life, unlike people. She couldn’t control them at all, and that was hard for her to accept. The day after her humiliation in the hot tub, Spence hadn’t even bothered to talk to her, let alone call. He’d flown back to Seattle for some high-profile surgery. Yes, he’d been sending a vase of flowers every day since, making her home look like a dang floral shop, but not a single phone call, nor a text, and not a word of explanation. If he really thought flowers were going to make her all warm and fuzzy, he had obviously never tried to court a woman like her before.
Decorations! She needed to focus on the decorations and not think about Spence Whitman or his stupid hot tub, or snowstorms.
As if the stress of Spence wasn’t enough, Grace walked over to her perfectly organized table, scooped up a few ornaments, and placed them on the tree all wrong before she scooted around one of the large vases filled with roses and plopped down on the couch.
“You’ve been moaning in your sleep and I want answers,” Grace said as she got comfortable.
“I have not,” Sage replied, trying to be sneaky as she grabbed the ornaments Grace had just placed on the tree and repositioned them.
“I saw that, Sage,” Grace said, making Sage turn to see the satisfied smirk on her friend’s face.
“They looked fine. I just think those branches won’t hold them,” Sage said, not wanting to admit her need for perfection or hurt her friend’s feelings.
“You know, if I didn’t love you so dang much, I might be offended that you think I’m a terrible decorator,” Grace said before taking a sip of coffee.
“I don’t think you’re terrible, not at all. It’s just that I don’t want the branches to break,” she said on a sigh.
“I’ll let you think that I believe that,” Grace said with a wink. “But I will admit that your compulsion to make everything perfect is just one of the many reasons I adore you.”
“You know I love you, too, Grace.”
“Now, back to why you were moaning in your sleep,” Grace said, not letting Sage off the hook.
“I was not moaning in my sleep.”
“Ha! I caught you,” Grace said, sitting up a little taller against the back of the couch. “There’s no way you’d be turning so red if there wasn’t something you were actually trying to hide. You’ve been my best friend since the first day of kindergarten. Why in the world wouldn’t you spill your guts to me? I’m hurt.”