Page 36 of Awakened By the Guardian

“N-no,” she stammered. “It’s…”

“Amazing? Incredible. I’m the Breast Whisperer?”

She laughed and reached back to slap him—not hard, because she didn’t have the angle, and he chuckled right along with her. Then he leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“See? Sex doesn’t have to be so serious.”

She didn’t have the breath to argue.

First, the laughter had been good. It had allowed her to relax and remember all the great things between them. Second, as she’d twisted to slap him, his hand adjusted. He was cupping her differently now, and he was beginning to squeeze and twist her nipple. That sent erotic bolts through her system. Tiny pulses of arousal that she both liked and feared.

Stupid, to fear her own reaction, but there it was. She didn’t want things to go bad between them. What if she couldn’t perform how he wanted? What if all this proved was that she truly was deficient somehow? That there was no hope at all for her.

“Hey, stay with me,” he whispered.

She turned and looked into his eyes. He had propped himself up on one elbow, and his gaze was serious.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She looked away. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Then it doesn’t work. Our friendship isn’t going to change. How I feel about you isn’t going to change.”

She could see that he meant it. She also knew that the love he felt for her was true, bright and determined.

“I don’t know that I’m worth all this,” she said. Then her eyes widened as she heard herself.

“Baby,” he replied, his expression tender. “You are worth everything.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, he adjusted her further onto her back and pulled up her shirt. That felt stupid, having her shirt and bra bunched up near her neck, so taking a deep breath she hauled them both off. If they were going to do this, they might as well do this all the way.

There. Now she was naked to the waist, and he was looking down at her like at buried treasure.

“Gary—”

“Shhh. I’m admiring.” He grinned. “You have great breasts.”

“That are getting cold.” They were. “I should put my shirt back on.”

“Hell, no,” he said. “Let me warm them up.”

Once again, contrary to what she expected, he didn’t go crazy. Instead, he maneuvered himself upright beside her. The position took some adjustments, what with his legs, but he got there and then flashed her an impish grin.

“This is it,” he said as he waggled his eyebrows. “This is the moment I learn to become the Boob Whisperer.”

She laughed. How could she not?

“Now,” he continued, “you just lie there and remember that I can’t learn what you don’t teach. So you need to tell me what you like and what you don’t. Harder, softer, different. Whatever. You just remember to talk. Deal?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Deal.”

“Excellent.”

And so he got started. This time he used both hands. He molded her, he shaped her. He tweaked her nipples and went in for sustained pulses. He forced her to give him instructions, which soon seemed almost second nature. Harder. Softer. Just like that. Or I want more.

That one surprised her: When she first looked him in the eyes and finally said, “More.”

He complied. Oh, did he comply. He leaned down and put his mouth on her nipples, sucked them in and teased them until Margaret was gasping with excitement. She gripped his shoulders, holding on tight. She stopped giving instructions because her back was arched, her blood pumping hot and hard through every vein, and her breasts felt amazing. She wanted exactly what he was doing. She wanted it just like that.