Fiery anger blazes in his eyes. “What sort of selfish fuckers have you been with?” I sink into the pillows, suddenly feeling silly. “Nobody,” I whisper. “You’re my first everything.” “How?” “I don’t know. I just didn’t want that before.” “Oh, pet.” His pupils dilate, white hot now, and he reaches out to shove the champagne onto the bedside table. Then he takes the flute from my hand, his calloused fingers raising sparks where they brush against my softer ones.
