Teacher (Voyeur #6) - Fiona Cole Page 0,29

natural as possible, so it can feel like a normal situation.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. What if I gave you control and speak up if it’s too much?”

My heart stuttered over the word control. I loved control in the bedroom, preferred it, but I wasn’t sure Hanna knew what she was saying.

“I’m not always a gentle man, Hanna.” Her eyes jerked up at that comment, and I smiled softly to ease the anxiety building there. “But I can be gentler for you. You need to have confidence in the comfort you feel with me and know that if at any point you ever want to stop, all you have to do is say it. I can take the lead and follow your cues to keep the situations flowing easily.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’d like that. As much as I don’t want to be out of control, I don’t want to have to worry about what to do next and if I’m doing it right or wrong. I—I want you to teach me.”

“I can do that.”

I hope.

“Just one more question, if you don’t mind me asking…” I hedged. “How much experience did you have before? Any boyfriends?”

Pink tinged her cheeks, but she swallowed her nerves and lifted her chin. Always so brave. “I had a couple of boyfriends before everything. But we didn’t do much beyond touching.”

Jesus, she was more innocent than I’d imagined. She’d been seventeen when she was taken. Plenty of time to do everything under the sun. God knows I had.

“Does that bother you?”

“No, not at all.”

“So…we’re good. We’re going to do this?”

“Looks like it.”

She stuck her hand out across the table, her lips stretching into a small smile. “To a friend helping a friend.”

I slid my hand in hers, loving her silky soft skin. “To friends helping friends.”

She smiled wider, and for a moment, I got lost in her full lips, stretched over perfectly straight teeth, and ignored the way something whispered inside me that this was more than a friend helping a friend.

11

Daniel

The glass almost slipped from my hand because of my sweaty palms. Looking around the crowd, I sipped my bourbon, looking for Hanna. I decided to let her come to me this time. Maybe because I wanted her to go the extra step tonight. I wanted her to make it through those doors on her own. I wanted her to overthink it all to make sure tonight was what she truly wanted.

I almost laughed at myself, sweating like a virgin on her wedding night. In reality, we may only hold hands again. We may do more—light grazes, more heavy breathing. Anything was possible, and my mind was taking me on a roller coaster ride, waiting to find out. Jesus, last time I barely survived just sitting there.

Running my hand through my hair, I did my best to calm down. As sexual as this was, it wasn’t sexual. This wasn’t a normal experience. No, she was going to let me touch her body, which might cause her to flip out and make it worse.

I bit back a groan and managed to stop my hand from banging on the bar.

What if I made it worse?

Just because I could hold her hand for less than thirty seconds and teach her to defend herself didn’t mean we could watch sex and touch without repercussions.

“Hey,” her soft voice greeted.

I snapped upright and turned, forcing a neutral expression to hide all my inner turmoil. “Hey, you made it.”

She looked beautiful in a form-fitted, long sleeve dress. The simple burgundy fabric hid her ample cleavage under a square neck and covered her to mid-thigh. It wasn’t flashy or low-cut, but on her body, it may as well have been. She was stunning.

Hanna tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. Unlike me, she looked to have no nerves about this evening. Obviously, I wasn’t doing a good enough job at hiding my own because the more she took me in, the more her brows pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I rushed to reassure her. I needed to get it together. My feelings were nothing compared to hers. I waved off her comment and smiled. “Just a long week.”

She nodded, looking a little less than convinced, and scanned the room. “It’s less busy tonight.”

“Yeah. Not being a holiday helps.”

One of the bartenders asked Hanna what she wanted to drink, and she surprised me by ordering a shot of tequila rather than the neat drink she usually sipped on.

With the glass firmly clasped between her slim fingers,