The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,24
do you want to start? You want to get out of here and go to my house or to yours?”
She furrows her brow. “Do we need to do that?”
I blink, trying to process what she’s saying, and then it hits me. Duh. I missed the obvious signs. She’s trying to break out of her shell. She doesn’t want to practice sex at home. She wants to try it in an elevator, or my truck, or maybe even right here.
I glance around, a dirty grin tugging at my lips. “We can start right here if you’d like.”
“We can?” Her voice is feathery.
“If that works for you.”
She draws a quick breath, then another, like she’s gulping for air. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Music to my ears.
Since all good sex practice starts with a kiss, I close my eyes and dip my face closer to hers, inhaling her sweet smell, savoring the closeness of her skin. I inch nearer, ready to kiss her breathless. I didn’t expect we’d move so quickly, but I have no objections to this pace. None at all, as her honey-scented lotion floats into my nostrils, blurring my mind with the possibilities of pleasure.
But my lips meet nothing but a whoosh of air. My eyes fly open. She’s standing above me. I blink, trying to sort out why she leaped up so quickly.
It doesn’t look like she jumped away from me. It looks like maybe she missed I was going in for a kiss.
She smooths her hands over her skirt, spins around, and parks her hands on the arm of the couch, bending into an L. “Should we start with spanking?”
“You don’t want to ease into it a little more?”
“Go big or go home, right?”
I didn’t think lesson one would be ass-smacking, but I’m a flexible guy. Plus, she has a fantastic rear, so I can handle this curveball. I move behind her and bring my hand to her hip to adjust her position.
“We can just do all of this with clothes on, right?”
I stop, the record scratching to a halt. “We can?”
“I meant to say that. Didn’t I say that? I had so many things I wanted to say.” Her brow pinches as if she’s trying to remember. “That's what I said, right?”
“I feel like I’d have remembered that,” I say flatly.
“Oh.” Her face is crestfallen. “That’s what I meant with the sample part. The ‘just a taste’ part.”
My shoulders sag. My libido has been kicked in the nuts. “That’s what you meant?”
She stands up straight, smiling like she’s proud of herself. “I think the best part of this is we don’t have to get naked. All I want is to test out some options here and there. A little biting, a little spanking, and we don’t even have to take off our clothes for that. Since we’re friends, we can basically act, and that way we won’t technically cross any lines.”
Kill. Me. Now.
I’m playing Fifty Shades of Blue Balls.
And I’m already halfway there.
15
Gabe
I like to think I’ve seen nearly everything.
I’ve pulled mangled bodies out of cars that have crashed on the highway. I’ve witnessed hearts restarting in the back of ambulances as sirens blared. I’ve been called to some wild scenes at homes, featuring apples and broomsticks that have been stuck in openings where neither fruit nor cleaning supplies belong.
But this?
My best friend asking me to play sex charades?
This is the very definition of being thrown for one hell of a loop the loop. Here I was, sliding into the evening with one thing in mind: finding the best opening to let the woman know how I feel.
And while I was strutting down Feelings Street, she’s swept in front of me, cut me off, and taken a sharp left down Let’s Act It Out Lane.
I clear my throat. Drag my hand through my hair. Try to sort out my thoughts. “So we’re basically doing wrestling moves?”
“Exactly!” She nods enthusiastically, her smile spreading. Clearly, this project is important to her and delights her. I ought to find a way to share that excitement. But it’s admittedly a little hard.
Oh, wait. It’s my dick that’s still hard. Overeager fucker needs to back off. “Kind of like dance moves? Like we’re going to a dance class?”
“Yes. Like we’re rehearsing scenes. Think about us as actors on stage. They’re not really fencing, but they’re going through the motions. Like stage fighting.”
“Or stage fucking?”
“Yes, not real fucking.”
I deflate. Fully this time. This is my unlucky day.