Chapter 1

After coming to college, I realized I was the only virgin in my class.

I grew up in a conservative Christian family. Before I left home, my mother warned me:

“A woman’s first time must be with her husband on their wedding night.”

So, even though the girls around me mocked me, and even though I craved freedom, I couldn’t break free from those chains.

That is, until Adam stormed into my life like a wild beast.

He’s my neighbor—eight-pack abs, tousled curly hair.

Damn it… and he’s packing 8.5 inches!

It had only been two months since I left home for college, but it felt like a lifetime of changes had hit me all at once.

All my new friends had boyfriends. They loved sharing their sex stories.

One of them smirked,

“He teases with his fingers, circling slow, barely brushing your clit until you’re trembling and gasping for more. Then he pins your wrists above your head, pushes in deep and hard, each thrust hitting just right…”

“God, the way he claims you with that huge, powerful cock…

“The climax hits like a wave breaking over you, pulling you under in the most beautiful way.”

The room filled with their soft laughs and knowing smiles.

I sat curled in the armchair, knees hugged to my chest, listening without a word.

Heat pooled low in my belly, a secret ache that throbbed with every detail they shared. I bit my lip hard.

I’d never been touched like that.

Never felt a guy’s weight pressing me down, never known the slide of bare skin or that breathless surrender.

I was still a virgin, untouched, unsure—

but my body betrayed me, craving hands that weren’t there, lips I’d never tasted.

The thought scared me and thrilled me in equal measure. I wanted it. I wanted to feel that unraveling, to be wanted that fiercely.

Then one night at a party, everything shifted.

I’d been hovering on the edges, unsure how to fit in, when I met Brad. He was gorgeous, charming, and this was his house.

We talked for a while. Then he offered to give me a tour. The look in his eyes told me the tour wasn’t the point.

My heart raced. Part of me wanted to stay safe in the crowd. But I pushed that voice down. This was the first step toward what I secretly craved.

“Sure,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

He took my hand the second we left the main room and led me upstairs.

His touch sent sparks across my skin. My whole body hummed with anticipation.

No tour. He brought me straight to his bedroom.

The door clicked shut. Before I could catch my breath, his mouth was on mine—hot, hungry, certain.

My eyes widened, but then I melted into it. God, it felt so good.

He guided me to the bed. I lay back. He followed, covering me with his warmth.

His kisses deepened. His hand slipped under my top, palm flat against my bare stomach.

Everything was happening fast. Too fast. My pulse thundered.

Then his hand slid higher, cupping my breast through my bra. Pleasure shot through me, sharp and dizzying.

Panic followed right after.

I sat up quickly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice gentle.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It’s just… moving a little fast for me. Can we slow down?”

“Of course,” he said, and I felt a rush of gratitude.

He kissed me again, softer this time. But soon his body pressed closer, his thigh sliding between mine. I felt his hard, insistent thing pushing against me.

Heat flooded me. Desire and fear twisted tight in my chest.

I froze again.