the flames and making my skin burn hotter. I jerked, grunting as I came, all the while imagining Shelby crying out in pleasure right along with me. I swallowed, guilt burning through me. Shelby wasn’t a virgin—and yet, she hadn’t had an orgasm. After I cleaned up, I grabbed my iPad, typing “how to get a girl off” into Google. Oh my God. If the guys ever checked my browser history, they’d annihilate me. Within seconds, thousands—no, tens of thousands of articles filled my screen. I looked at the clock. One thirty.
I should go to sleep. I had practice later. But this seemed wildly more important than anything else in my life.
I clicked on the first article, consuming it entirely within a matter of minutes. Then the next. And the next. They lead me to a handful of books about the G-spot and female orgasms. I one-clicked them and then set my phone alarm for eight a.m. so that I was up in time to bring Shelby croissants. Then, I clicked open the first page to The G-spot and settled in to read. If I was going to have sleepless nights, they might as well be productive ones.
Chapter Twenty-One
SHELBY
Tate kept his promise the following morning and brought me croissants with jam and butter. He also kept his promise Monday morning with a meat and cheese plate for breakfast (very French of him). In fact, he’d kept it almost every morning since that Saturday night two weeks ago.
Now, I rushed around my apartment, cleaning frantically while simultaneously applying some makeup. I didn’t wear it often, but now and then, I’d brush some powder over my nose and lip gloss over my pout. Our week had been extra busy, and we hadn’t had a lot of one-on-one time. In the two weeks since I told Tate about my little, um, issue, he had barely laid a hand on me. Yeah, we’d kissed and participated in some over the clothes stuff, but below the belt?
Nothing.
Nada.
I was tired of being treated like a friggin’ porcelain doll—and tonight? Tonight, that was going to change.
There was a knock at the door, and I stalled. An armful of dirty laundry was tucked against my body in one arm and my toothbrush stuck out of my foamy mouth. I ran for my bedroom, chucking the laundry in my hamper and spit into the sink, rinsing the toothpaste down. “Coming,” I called and fluffed my hair, smoothing the bangs down over my scar.
Swinging the door open, I leaned a shoulder against the molding, lowering my eyelids in what I hoped was a sexy way. “Hey, you,” I said, dropping my voice an octave.
Reagan stood there, grinning from ear to ear, and slipped me a knowing wink. “Keep your panties on. It’s just me.”
I huffed a sigh, letting her in and shutting the door behind her. “What are you doing here?” I asked as she handed me a wine bottle. “And how’d you get by the doorman?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Lou loves me. Recognizes me well enough to know I can be just let up.” Reagan barged into the kitchen, rummaging through my drawers until she found a bottle opener. “Besides, I’m here to hang out with my best friend, whom I haven’t seen in two weeks.” She dropped onto my couch, tucking her feet under her.
“Reagan, it’s not a good night—”
“Yeah, I know. Because you’re seeing your boy toy, right?”
“He’s helping me with French—”
“Kissing?” she finished with a smile, and patted the couch beside her. I sighed, falling beside her. “Girl, you know I love you, and no one is happier than me that your hoo-ha is getting some attention. But you can’t leave Harrison and I hanging.”
“We all just had brunch.”
“Yeah—weeks ago, for an hour, before you ran off for another date.”
I opened my mouth with a retort before I snapped it shut. She was right. I don’t remember the last time Reagan and I hung out just the two of us. It had been longer than three weeks, for sure—since before the night at Petite Moulin Rouge—whereas we used to see each other almost daily.
“I suck.”
“You sure do—otherwise, I doubt a guy like Tate would be with you.” She laughed, popping the wine open and pouring us each a glass.
“Reagan.”
“Oh, relax. I have to get it all out now before big brother Harrison shows up. He’ll freak if I make blow job jokes about you in front of him.” She tapped the edge of her