Page 37 of Virtuous Lies

I shrug, my bottom lip tipping out in confusion.

“Now imagine that love had been taken from their livesbeforeyou. Would you think their love wasallyours?”

I consider his question, my mouth opening to sayyes, of course they would love me with everything, even if they’d loved and lost before me. But I refrain.

“It’s like that,” he continues. “You have this person, this soul, this heart, thisbody”—his eyes flash with lust—“that you want to be yours. You want to love them completely and have them love you in the same way.”

“I know they’d love me completely no matter who may have come before me.”

He sips from his glass. “And maybe a little bit of you would always wonder if they preferred the sibling who came before you. Would they give you up to have them back?”

“Okay,” I agree, reluctantly.

“Sex triggers a lot of things, Bianca. Memories, feelings, ecstasy,pain.Men want to know that when they’re fucking their wife, memories of another aren’t infiltrating. They want to know their cock is the only one that has ever brought them pleasure. That when you think salacious thoughts, it’s your husband you're thinking of.”

He speaks with such vehemence. The belief in his statement a part of who he is.

“Not all men,” I argue.

“I can only speak for myself.”

“Except that’snotyou,” I say.

His eyebrows pull together. “Says who?”

“You,” I press. “You said so yourself.”

His head pushes back, a slight shake of his head adding to his confusion.

“I don’t fuck scared little girls.” I repeat his words, ignoring the way they slice into my heart.

He shrugs. “There is no connection.”

“I’m confused.” I shift in my seat, crossing my legs on the sofa.

“Being a virgin doesn’t make you a scared little girl.”

“Oh.” I drop my eyes to my lap, my confidence waning. “So youwishI was a virgin?”

He lets go of a heavy exhale. “Do you know the reason I won’t fuck you,dolcezza?”

“Because—”

“Don’t say his name,” he snarls. “It’s because you can’t even look at me when you speak about sex.Thatmakes you scared. Not your virginal status, or lack thereof,” he adds as an afterthought.

I lift my head, ignoring the way my cheeks heat.

“And it doesn’t matter what I want. You’re not a virgin, so it’s a moot point. Isn’t that right, wife?”

I clear my throat. “Right.”

He stares at me, and I hate the way his eyes pry into my soul, attempting to steal my secrets.

“Last night,” I start but stop myself, unsure how to continue.

“Last night,” he echoes when my words stall.

“I wasn’t scared last night.”