Page 46

“Sorry.” He starts to lift off.

My hands catch his waist and hold him still. “Not sorry. Stay. Just…words first next time.”

He sinks slowly back down, and I bite back a groan. His eyes are wide, like maybe he’s just now realizing he is sitting in my lap. His hands hover over my shoulders as he decides if he should touch me again or not.

“Still good?” I ask, because if I don’t talk I’m going to do something that is not part of this lesson, like grind my hips up into him.

“Yes.” His voice is thin. “You’re really warm. And this way I can reach everything.”

I huff out a sound that wants to be a laugh but is more of a moan instead. “Okay, brain. Hands wherever you want. I’ll tell you what works and what doesn’t.”

He nods, perfectly serious as he captures his lip between his teeth. I put my hands on the quilt behind me so I don’t grab his hips and show him the rest of the curriculum in one go.

“Go ahead,” I say with a nod.

He hesitates, looks at my mouth, then my chest. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I feel it all the way down.

For a second, he just sits there, mapping the path of my body, and I think we’re going to do this the slow way. Then I see something click behind his glasses.

His hands leave my shoulders and rake down my chest in one clumsy pass, too hard, nails catching, as though he’s trying to get from start to finish before he loses his nerve. He doesn’t linger on anything that actually feels good. He just goes south. Fingers hit my stomach, fumble the waistband of my jeans, and hook like he’s going to grab me through the denim.

Shit. Holy fuck.

“Quinn—”

Too late to be gentle, I catch his wrist with a sound that comes out as a strangled yelp and haul his hand back up before he can close it around me.

We both freeze. He’s still in my lap. My heart is attempting to kick its way out of my ribs. His eyes are huge.

“Bad sound,” I manage, breathless. “That was a bad sound.”

“I stopped.” His voice is small. “I was—I thought that was the part. The video jumped there. I didn’t want to do the boring stuff wrong again.”

Of course. Fast-forward. Same as the tongue when he kissed me.

I keep his wrist loosely secured in mine and drop my forehead for a second so I don’t laugh or come or die. “The middle isn’t boring. The middle is the best part. You don’t just go in and grab a guy’s dick like you just want to jack him off and be done with it.”

His face goes nuclear. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Look at me,” I say and use a single finger to tilt his face up until he is. “You just surprised me. But we’re going to set that as a hard rule. We don’t go under or over the jeans until you ask and I say yes or vice versa. Same rules as kissing. Okay?”

He nods so hard his glasses slip down his nose. “Okay. I won’t. I thought—speed meant I was doing it right.”

“Speed means you watched the wrong homework,” I say with a laugh. Although imagining him watching a porno is interesting, I am willing to bet he took notes. I let go of his wrist and place his palm back on my chest, over my heart, which is being an idiot. “Start here. Slowly. You can move. Just don’t skip to the last page.”

Quinn stares at his own hand as if it committed a terrible crime. He swallows, his eyes still on his hand. “Did any of that work?”

I huff and keep it honest. “The sitting in my lap worked. The diving for my fly did not. We can pretend that part was just practice.”

A tiny, mortified sound comes out of him, and I brush his hair out of his face. I tilt his face up again and give him a smile. His eyes go to my lips, and he smiles, too.

“Okay, when you're ready, you can try again. Run your fingers slowly down to the button of my jeans. Lightly. Emphasis on slow.”

Quinn pushes his glasses back up his nose and glances from my face to my crotch, completely unsure. “What is that supposed to do?”

“It’s a teasing touch…sorta a part of foreplay. It builds anticipation.”

Not that I need much more anticipation. Fuck. This lesson needed to be over five minutes ago. I'm going to go crazy. Most of the guys I've been with are experienced. And have at least some clue of how to turn someone on.