My face is still flushed bright mottled red in humiliation even half an hour after ‘the incident’. We’re sitting side by side on the bed, our legs grazing each other, but in truth, we could be on different continents we feel so apart.
I don’t for the life of me know what went wrong.
I really wanted this to work, so why did I self-sabotage myself?
He’s handsome, he cares about me, I’ve known him most of my life, and even my parents love him.
He was my best friend!
On top of that, sex is fun! Yes, some sex I’ve had has been more enjoyable than others but I know Donovan wouldn’t be selfish or uncaring in the bedroom. So…why is my heart racing, and not in a good way? How come my palms are sweaty and I’m fidgeting with my jeans?
Why can’t I just convince myself that this will be fun?
I clear my throat and turn to him, looking at his high cheekbones instead of his eyes.