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“Then, what?”
“You know…” I looked up at him, begging for him to understand what I was saying. But he just stared back at me in confusion. “I don’t…I don’t orgasm with a guy. It’s, like…impossible.”
Weston stared at me for a few seconds, as if waiting for me to throw in a punch line. Because that couldn’t possibly be what I’d just said. My cheeks flushed at that look.
“What?” he croaked.
“Forget it,” I muttered.
“Do you come when you masturbate?”
My mouth opened and closed. My blush moving from my cheeks to my ears and neck. Mutely, I nodded.
“You’re not difficult,” he insisted. “That’s not true.”
“It really is. It’s never happened…and August said…”
Weston took a step forward. “What did he say?”
I swallowed. “Just that…” Fuck, I’d never told anyone this. “That it was normal for girls to not get off.”
“And did he suggest you still had to get him off?” West almost growled.
I glanced down with a shrug. “Yeah, I mean…”
West looked as if he could barely hold himself back as he entered my personal space. I tilted my head up to look at him. Without my heels on, he towered over me.
“Listen to me, everything he told you is a lie. A lie.” Weston held my gaze firm and steady. “I can show you that he’s wrong.”
The words left me stunned. Show me. He could show me.
“How?” I whispered.
I’d had a few drinks. I was a little tipsy. Enough to ask that one word that destroyed any semblance of control I had. But not drunk enough to be incoherent.
“We can call it a teachable moment,” he said calmly. “I’ve taught you about everything else. You trust me, right?”
I nodded.
“Then, I can show you that what he said is wrong. If you want me to do that.”
A pregnant pause followed his words. My core tightened at the thought of what that could possibly mean. What he was offering. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. I hadn’t been touched in ten long months. My body ached for him to prove to me how wrong August had been about my body. And he was so damn confident about it. Like I’d been led, blindfolded, for most of my life.
I was ready to remove it.
“Okay,” I said breathily.
“It doesn’t have to involve feelings,” he said automatically, as if he had to talk me into this.
“No feelings,” I agreed.
Except there was already something brewing between us. Something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But I couldn’t deny it any more than I could stop breathing.
“You’re sure?”
I nodded because I couldn’t say another word with him so close to me, breathing the same air, my heart constricting almost painfully so. He took my hand and drew me back to the couch. I took a seat next to him. I clenched my hand into a fist to keep from shaking with anticipation.
“Okay. I’m not going to kiss you. I’m only going to touch you here,” he said, gesturing between my legs. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Do you understand?”
My eyes met his, and I shivered at the look of lust reflected back at me. “Yes.”
But I wanted him to kiss me. God, I fucking wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to lean in right now and claim those supple lips for my own. I wanted to offer myself up to him on a silver platter. No matter that I’d only ever been with one guy. I never felt like Weston would hurt me. He’d only ever put my own interests first.
I jumped at the first contact against my thigh. “Sorry,” I whispered.
He smiled back at me. “No apologizing.”
I gulped and nodded as his hand slid up my skirt. At the first touch of him against the lace of my thong, I jumped again. I bit back another apology. He hesitated a second, looking into my gaze, waiting for me to tell him to stop. I had no intention of doing so.
He stroked me gently through my underwear, and I squirmed at the heat that built there. His other hand came to my knee. The feel of his hand against me nearly made me groan.
“Open,” he commanded. Then, he spread my legs, inch by inch, baring me before him until I was wide open. “Better.”
I nearly fell apart right then and there. Not orgasming—because that had never happened—but collapsing with desire. Weston Wright was commanding my body, and I was letting him.
His fingers skimmed the top of my underwear. “I’m going to touch you now.”
I bit my lip as he did just that. Those callous fingers skimming over the light hair until he reached my clit. I bucked against his fingers at the first gentle brush.
His voice was hoarse when he said, “Look at me.”
