DON’T STOP

Taking her innocence 10

Lila

Seconds later, the question slipped out before I could stop it. “Aren’t you supposed to reach climax though?” I remembered now. He hadn’t. My hand had been on him for what felt like forever, and nothing had happened. No release. No finish. Just him groaning and breathing hard, but never quite getting there.

Ryder smiled, small and almost gentle, and started fastening his jeans again. He tucked himself back in, zipped up, and buttoned the top, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had nowhere else to be. He adjusted his cowboy hat, then reached for the key in the ignition.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said quietly. “And how do you know I’m supposed to reach climax? You haven’t been with any guy.”

I folded my lips together and stared straight ahead at the windscreen. The ranch house was coming into view now, white siding glowing in the late afternoon sun. My cheeks felt hot again. “I… watch them.”

“Porn?” he asked, voice calm, no judgment.

I looked away, out the side window at the passing fields. Embarrassed. “Don’t act like you don’t watch it.”

“Because I don’t,” he replied.

My eyes widened. I turned to him so fast my hair whipped across my cheek. “What? I thought most men watch it.”

He gave a small shrug, one hand on the wheel as he eased the truck forward again.

“Anyway, you don’t watch it because you’re married, right?” I asked.

Silence fell. Thick and awkward. The engine hummed low between us. I suddenly felt like I’d stepped on something fragile. Like I’d said the wrong thing and broken the moment.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked softly.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes still on the road. “No, it’s just… it’s no use watching that. I won’t get hard anyway. I feel like I’m just wasting my time watching it because at the end of the day, nothing ever happens.”

The words landed heavy. I bit my bottom lip, hard enough to sting. My heart squeezed. I thought about everything he’d told me earlier—years of nothing, the way his body had finally responded to me last night and to me touching him today. And now this. Him giving up on even trying because it never worked.

I might be the only one who could help him. The thought made my stomach flip—nervous, excited, and scared all at once. I swallowed hard. Opened my mouth to say something, anything. Maybe tell him I wanted to try doing this with him. The stupid deal, I mean. Maybe tell him I wasn’t scared anymore.

But before the words could come out, he spoke.

“We’re home.”

The truck rolled to a gentle stop in front of the house. Dust settled around the tires. The engine ticked as it cooled. Ryder killed the ignition. The quiet rushed back in.

I stared at my lap, fingers twisting in my skirt. The moment was gone. Whatever I’d been about to say stayed stuck in my throat.

He glanced over at me. His gray eyes were softer now, almost careful. “You okay?”

I nodded. Small. Quick. “Yeah.”

But I wasn’t sure I was.

We finally stepped out of the truck. The warm evening air hit me right away, carrying the smell of hay and fresh peaches from the fields. My legs felt shaky as I closed the passenger door. Ryder shut his side too, quietly, with no words between us.

Delaney was already on the porch, wiping her hands on a dish towel, smiling like nothing in the world was wrong. “There you two are! How was the ranch today?”

I kept my head down. Couldn’t look at her. My stomach twisted hard. Guilt burned in my chest like fire. I had just touched her husband. Let him touch me. Made him groan in the cab of his truck while she was back here cooking dinner. How could I even look her in the eye?

“It was okay,” I whispered, barely loud enough to hear. I avoided her gaze completely, staring at the porch steps instead.

Delaney laughed softly. “Just okay? Well, you’ll have to tell me more.”

“I’ll be upstairs!” I said quickly, already moving.

I rushed up the steps, my feet flying, trying to escape before she could ask anything else. Behind me, Delaney called out, “Come down for dinner! You guys might be hungry after all that fresh air.”

I nodded without turning around, then bolted inside and straight up the stairs to my room. The door clicked shut behind me. I leaned against it for a second, breathing hard.

I stripped off my clothes fast, letting them fall in a pile on the floor. The cottage skirt, the pink striped shirt, everything that still carried the scent of him, of the truck, of what we’d done. I stepped into the shower and turned the water hot. Steam filled the small bathroom. I stood under the spray, letting it pound against my skin, washing away the stickiness on my hand and the faint salt taste that still lingered when I licked my lips earlier.

But the guilt wouldn’t wash off.

I don’t think I can do this, I thought, shaking my head under the water. I can’t do this with Ryder. I feel so bad right now. How am I supposed to sit across from Delaney at dinner, smiling, pretending nothing happened? How am I supposed to keep looking at her knowing I let her husband put his fingers inside me? Knowing I put my hand on him?

I should tell him I don’t want this. I should end it before it gets worse.

The water ran cold before I turned it off. I dried myself slowly, wrapped a towel around my body, and then went through the motions. Lotion on my arms and legs. A simple casual outfit: soft gray sweatpants and an oversized white tee. I sprayed a little perfume on my neck, the light floral scent that usually made me feel better. Today it didn’t help.

When I came downstairs, Delaney was setting the table. Plates clinked softly. The smell of roasted chicken and garlic filled the kitchen. She looked up and smiled warmly.

“Oh sweetie, I guess you’re ready for dinner.” She wiped her hands again and nodded toward the hallway. “Meanwhile, can you go call your uncle? He’s still in his room.”

I swallowed. My throat felt tight. “What?”

“Go call Ryder to come for dinner,” she repeated, already turning to grab more dishes from the kitchen. “I’ll finish setting everything up.”