What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [39]
“Are . . . we allowed to kiss? Because I’ve noticed we haven’t.”
He drew a deep breath. How could he explain this? “It’s not against the rules, but . . . given how many rules I’m breaking here already, I don’t know if it’s the best idea.”
“Okay,” she said, clearly trying her damnedest to sound as if it didn’t matter at all—but he felt in his gut how much she yearned to be kissed right now, how much she needed what had just happened on this desk to matter, even just a little.
And he shouldn’t validate it, because he couldn’t ever let her believe the sex between them was more than what it was—a phenomenally pleasant time between two people while one of them educated the other. Yet something about the expression on her face made his chest feel like it was caving in.
He started to go, but after two steps, heard himself mutter, “Hell—fuck it.” Then he turned back, stepped possessively between her thighs, and slid his hands around her slender waist. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her hotly, passionately.
Though after a minute, after that initial kiss or two, the connection of their mouths slowed, their lips lingering together for a long, still moment—which drove him into a drawn-out, deliberate, deeper kind of kissing.
When his spine began to tingle, he knew it was time to stop, so he pulled up, gently backing a step away.
Their eyes met and he once again felt like he was seeing all of her: the sweet girl inside; the girl who was frightened sexually but standing openly before him, exposed, both physically and emotionally; the hot, dirty girl he knew hid within, wanting to come out.
“Sweet dreams, sunshine,” he said, then turned and exited the room.
Chapter 5
Jenna lay on her bed in a cami and cotton panties, hugging a pillow to her chest, feeling too dreamy after Brent’s kisses. But you have to stop it. You can enjoy sex with him—and kissing—but you can’t get any more attached to him. For one thing, she’d known him for just over twenty-four hours. For another, in two weeks, he would be history, a memory. No matter how hot and soft his kisses had been.
Getting up, she gathered pen and paper, then stepped out onto the balcony. Anyplace else, she might worry about putting on more clothes, but here, she considered being seen in underwear the least of her worries. It was dark out, getting late, and she hadn’t composed her lists yet.
She’d returned to her suite to find dinner waiting—a chicken salad plate and some fruit. Damn him, how did he know she’d been in the mood for something light after all the weird sex and weird talking?
After eating, she’d taken a long bath and started on her homework, rethinking the sex, bit by bit. Parts of it still freaked her out a little—but sometimes, she discovered, the things that had freaked her out were also the same things that had turned her on. And as she replayed it all in her mind, she tried her best to start thinking the way he wanted her to think—in dirty words. Instead of remembering the moment she saw his penis, she remembered the moment she saw his cock. Instead of remembering how he’d moved in and out of her, she remembered the way he’d fucked her. She still thought that was . . . silly at best, but for some reason she couldn’t quite determine, she wanted—more and more—to be a good student for him.
Maybe it’s because of the kisses.
Peering out over the sea, where a nearly full moon shone down to make the water sparkle, she tried to laugh that off as a ridiculous reason, but the truth was—the man knew how to kiss. He’d kissed her better than anyone ever had.
Quit thinking about kisses and make your lists.
Half an hour and lots of lusty, tingling memories later, she had compiled them, and though it had been difficult to be totally honest, especially knowing he’d see them, she’d succeeded. Admirably so, she thought.
Things That Made Me Feel Sexy (Not Necessarily a Complete List)
The way I looked in the bra and thong in my room
The way I looked in the schoolgirl outfit (which surprised me and makes me feel a little weird, actually)