The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Thirty-Two Point Five

"What?"

Awkwardly, I smile at Gatlin—Chris—as he stares down at me. His tone is low, and his breath ripples across my collarbone. Shivering, my hands sink around his biceps, willing him closer.

"Chris, I—" I break off, raising my hips and rubbing against him. "It's not a big deal."

I'm wet and wanting, half-starved of his touch as he hangs over me. His jaw is shut tight, clenching so tightly I fear he'll break his pretty teeth. Anxiety eats away at me as time passes, and he falls deadly silent.

"Chris, it's not a big deal. I'm here with you, and that's all that matters, right?"

Eyes narrowing, he closes the distance between us, but there's no lust or desire in his gaze. A chill rises along my spine and I shiver a second time, sealing my lips together. He's livid.

Rage pours off of him like a fog, and it shuffles along the emotions in his head. His lips drop open and his tongue pokes off, running itself along his bottom row of teeth. Without speaking a word, he closes his lips.

"Chris?" Slowly, I trail my hands up and down his arms. "Talk to me. Say something."

"What would you have me say?"

Shrinking into the sheets, I blink away stray tears. "That it doesn't matter."

That you don't think less of me. That I'm still the woman you want. Everything but what is coming out of your mouth.

Hurt, I curl my legs up and shove my body to the side, aiming to escape his hold, but I don't escape. Chris' body comes down on mine, keeping me pinned beneath him. His hands land on my legs and shove them open. All at once, his frame drops to keep mine compliant.

"What do you mean, you aren't a virgin?" He finally asks as he raises an eyebrow. "Did you take a trip on Catrina's strap-on?"

I balk. "We didn't... She and I never..."

The words won't leave my lips. They're trapped in a twisting tornado of tormented thoughts tearing through my brain. Catrina pushed, but it was never more than fingers and certainly not enough to break my hymen.

And even if it was, what was the problem? He wasn't a virgin. He hadn't waited for me.

His face hardens. "Who is the fucker who took you?"

"It doesn't matter."

A callused hand cuffs my throat. "I want a name. Now, Blue."

"And I'm not giving one." I snark. "I didn't ask you for the names of the woman you've fucked before me. Why would I give you the name of the man who had me?"

His jaw ticks, but he doesn't argue.

"You're being hypocritical," I say, dragging my hand up his abs and circling his heaving pecs. They rise and fall as he breathes. Anger radiates off of him, but he knows he can't do anything about it. "If it bothers you so much, get off me."

When he doesn't move, I repeat myself, emphasizing his last name. He can't make commands on what he should be called while behaving like a Neanderthal. I'm well within my rights to explore my sexuality and body, whether it be with him or someone else.

And I'm certainly not going to take shit for the past. We both have one, and I don't see him volunteering names. It would be asinine to assume he'd never done anything like this.

He has needs and so do I.

Surely, the double standard wouldn't translate here? Not when I'm half in love with him already? Not when I trust him to save my life?