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There’d been no prospects since that night. I’d gone on a few dates when I got to Randhurst, but there’d been no connection. No spark. Or we’d hit the roadblock of my inexperience and it weirded him out. Time only made me less confident in my ability to find a partner who’d be a good match. Someone intelligent, driven like me, and willing to deal with my social awkwardness.
    My anxious gaze drifted back to Luka’s. Was he as disappointed as the other boys had been when they learned I’d never given it up?
    No, he wasn’t disappointed.
    He gave a wicked smile and looked thrilled . He straightened and his gaze slid down the length of my body. It came to rest exactly where his palms moved to, my knees. And then both began to work their way up my thighs.
    “How?” he asked. “Why?”
    “Why ?” How was I going to explain? It didn’t matter, the tequila made me mouthy and I spoke without thought. “The guy I was with . . . didn’t deserve it.”
    Luka’s pleased expression was even better than his displeased one. “Fuck, perfect,” he said. “Let me show you what it feels like.”
    I snagged my bottom lip between my teeth as anxiety fluttered in my belly. His fingers were up my skirt, tugging at the waistband of my panties, urging them down.
    “Wait, wait.” My hands flew out to stop his, but it didn’t work. He tugged one side down and then the other, working the panties toward my knees.
    “Don’t worry, good girl,” he teased. “You can keep these on.”
    I trembled as the black cotton panties were bunched at my knees, and the tremble was more pronounced when Luka guided me to lift one leg free of the fabric. The panties dropped down my calf and hung at my ankle, where he gave them a tug.
    “See? Still on.” His expression was sinful.
    I was aware I was in over my head, even as I reached the final stage of drunkenness—inability to organize thoughts. His warm palms pressed open my knees and he bent at the waist, lowering his face between my legs.
    A trembling hand—my own—clamped over my lips to keep me quiet as he pushed my skirt out of his way. There was nowhere else to look but at the man licking his lips while he stared at my nakedness. It was indecent, and holy hell, he made me feel good. Desired like nothing else. He closed the last of the distance and claimed me with his mouth.
    My moan was loud, but quieted against my palm, when something warm and soft stroked me. I jolted. He did it again, and again, and each one wrung a new moan from my shaking body. It felt amazing. Better than amazing. I didn’t want him to ever stop.
    I was gulping down air through my nose, and slapped my other palm on top of my mouth for further protection from getting too loud. My knees tried to close, but his hands were on the tops of my thighs, forcing them apart. Holding me open for him as he feasted.
    The swirling tongue did nothing to help my spinning issue, nor did his lips closing and sucking on the tight bud at the center of my pleasure. I bucked and groaned into my hands, my back arching from the couch, only for me to slump back down against it.
    It was abruptly cold as he sat back, taking the heat of his mouth with him. He stared at me with lust-heavy eyes, and his hand ran between my legs. “You’re so fucking wet.” The hand slid through my folds and smeared the wetness all along the inside of my thighs. “Christ, feel how bad this virgin pussy wants me.”
    It was shocking, and although part of me was unhappy with the vulgarity, another part was terribly turned on. I’d thought Luka and I were the same, but in this room? We were polar opposites. All of my inexperience and shyness was a void he filled with his ultra-confidence, trapping me in his power.
    He leaned back down and his warm breath spilled over me. That devious tongue slicked over my clit, fluttering with urgency, and heat built inside me at an exponential rate. Each stroke made me groan with choked pleasure. I peered into his eyes