His shoulders go so tense, his body is like granite beneath my hand. A fine shiver works over him, and I rub his back, desperate to calm him down. When he speaks, his voice is rough and rusty.

“First night out, we all got completely drunk, smoked some pot. I’d never tried it before, and it hit me hard. We’re at this party, and two girls come up to me. They’re wearing nothing but these tiny little bikinis and are so fucking eager to please me. That’s not even it. These girls, it’s like they want to outdo each other by being as wild and willing as they can.”

Yeah, I know the type well. Growing up around athletes, I knew those women even when I was too young to understand what sex was. My dad, who was an NBA star before he was an agent, fucked those types of women and ruined his marriage.

The feminist in me wants to say it’s the men taking advantage and using woman like disposable sex toys. But the truth is far more muddy, because some women are more than willing to play that role. In fact, they compete for the chance to be used.

“I was drunk and high enough not to care,” Dex says slowly, as if every word is being dragged out of him. “Next thing I know, all three of us are in a back room, one of them is sucking on my cock—though I’m so far gone I can barely feel it—and the other has her tits in my face. And I’m thinking finally, finally. But it also feels kind of off.

“Then one of them starts begging me to get down and dirty with her, says she loves it ‘dirty.’ Fuck if I know what that means, but then she’s on all fours, telling me to fuck her in the ass.”

Dex pauses, runs a hand over his face. He looks so ravaged, I don’t want him to go on. And yet I do, because if he trusts me enough to tell me his secrets, I’m going to listen to them.

“I was a virgin. What the fuck did I know about doing that? But the other one is coaxing me, ‘Do it to her. Let me see you fuck her. Oh, that would be so hot, baby.’” He shudders. “We were all wasted, stupid. I don’t… I remember trying to get inside her, and it chafed, wasn’t comfortable. But the one chick watching was kind of chanting, ‘Give it to her good.’ And the other, the one I’m, you know, trying to… She’s shouting, ‘Come on, get it in already.’ But my mind’s wondering, isn’t she supposed to be wet and slick?”

I feel sick, hearing his tale, twisted and sad. When he lowers his head and clears his throat, I want to cry and hold him tight. But I don’t move, don’t want to break whatever spell he’s under that’s allowing him to talk—because he clearly needs to get this out.

“Then it was kind of slick. I looked down and…there was blood…on my…” A ragged breath tears out of him. “I saw that, and everything just kind began to spin. I threw up. They left, shouting names at me, saying I was a bad fuck even for a football player…shit like that. But the girl I’d…”

Wide eyes the colors of earth and sea look up at me. “She acted as though she liked it. Wanted me to do that to her. Why? I made her bleed. Why would she want that? Because she wanted to claim a football player did that with her?”

“Ethan.” I don’t hesitate now to pull him close. He’s stiff with resistance, but his head rests on my shoulder, his breath coming out in agitated puffs.

“I couldn’t do it after that. It felt so ugly. Tainted. What I did, it wasn’t right.”

“No.” My palms cup his cheeks, and I lift his head to look into his eyes. “You got pulled into a bad scene. People do stupid things when they’re wasted.”

He tries to shake his head. “If I’d been more experienced, I’d have known enough to say no. Or get some…” His cheeks pink. “Lube or something.”

“Yeah? And what about that girl? If I asked a guy to do that, you better believe I’d demand some lube.”

Not that I’ve done anal before. But facts are facts.

“Look,” I say when it’s clear he’s going to argue, “you were stupid. She was stupid.”

His hands wrap around my wrists as he looks me in the eye. “I didn’t mean it to come out as a sob story. Logically, I know all this. But I remember, and I feel ashamed. After that, I just couldn’t tune out those thoughts. I couldn’t do casual sex. A relationship would be all right. But I don’t want someone who wants me because of what I do instead of who I am.”

My heart sinks a little. “Dex, we can’t have a relationship. You live in New Orleans, and I live in New York.”

His eyes drill into me. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, Cherry. You say what you mean and don’t filter it…”

I wince. “I’ve been working on my filters.”

He flashes a quick, tender smile. “It’s a good quality. I trust you. I’m insanely attracted to you. I want to fuck you. I want to know you. I want to be with you. If you want all that from me too, I won’t let something as small as inconvenient living locations get in the way.”

Holy hell. I can’t even speak.

Letting my wrists go, he searches my face, his expression almost stern. “I want you badly enough to put my all cards on the table, show who I really am. So I guess it’s your play now. I’ll understand if what I said turns you off and you’d rather end this.”

His lips press tight, as if he’s forcing himself to say no more, but his eyes never leave mine.