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"You'd had sex then."
"Only a few times." First, when I was fourteen. I was too young. I wasn't ready. I didn't even think about whether or not I was ready. Everyone expected it, so I went with it. It wasn't horrifying or anything—not like what happened to her—but it didn't feel the way it was supposed to either.
"But you didn't mind just kissing?" she asks.
"Kissing and touching," I say. "Above the belt."
She lets out a noise of surprise.
Which sends my thoughts to Val's history. She was kissing and touching the religious guy. She could kiss and touch me. I did it before. Sure, I was sixteen, but if I did it before, I can do it again.
"Was it just the technique?" she asks.
"It was everything. I was comfortable with her, but I wanted more too. And not having sex—that made it more exciting."
"There was something to look forward to?" she asks.
"Yeah, but it was more than that. I felt like… fuck, this sounds stupid."
"Tell me anyway."
"Like I was better than my dad somehow. 'Cause I was happy to just kiss this nice girl. I was happy to do things on her timeline. I didn't push for more. I didn't care that she didn't want more."
"That's not stupid."
"It's the bare minimum, really," I say. "Not pushing someone to do shit."
"Yeah, but a lot of guys don't realize that."
Or worse. So much worse. "I try."
"I know you do."
My chest warms. My stomach too. I can handle all sorts of compliments. But Val telling me I was a great boyfriend? That's not one of them.
"I can't imagine that… the teeth thing. How does it go?"
"I can show you." Fuck. Red alert. Red alert. Missile loaded.
"You can demonstrate?"
I keep my voice calm. I keep the last bit of blood left in my brain. "Yeah. If you need a new trick."
"I am curious."
Red alert, red alert. The missile is ready to launch. The button has a hair trigger. "It's not as exciting as it sounds."
"You can say no."
I should. That would be smart. Instead, I say, "No. I want to show you."
"Okay." She takes a long sip and turns to me. "Then show me." Her eyes meet mine. "Kiss me like you mean it."
Chapter Nineteen
VAL
Kiss me like you mean it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This is well beyond duty. Well beyond lessons or practice or anything remotely sensible.
"You sure?" Dare's eyes meet mine. His voice fills with intent.
No, of course not. This is a bad idea. Our friendship is the only stable thing in my life. I can't risk that for anything. "You already asked."
"We're drinking."
"If you don't want to—"
"I do." He moves carefully, like he's afraid I'll spook if he's too aggressive.
With anyone else, I would.
With him? It's still scary but it's not overwhelming.
Then his fingers brush my collarbone, and desire drowns my nerves. Sure, my hesitation doesn't disappear, but it feels muted and small next to my need for his touch.
He pulls me closer as he brings his lips to mine.
A soft brush. A hint of a kiss. The taste of cherry and vodka and Dare.
His lips close around my bottom lip. He sucks softly. Then harder.
His fingers curl into my neck as he drags his teeth against my lip.
Not hard enough to draw blood. Not even hard enough to hurt. Only enough, I feel it.
And, god, how I feel it. Electricity surges through my body. It's new and scary and thrilling and intoxicating.
He scrapes his teeth against my lip one more time, then he releases me.
My eyes flutter open. My surroundings return slowly. The soft music. The framed pop art. The fake clouds.
The mirror reflecting the desire in his eyes, the heat between us.
Only this isn't a normal kiss. This is practice. The desire is all part of the lesson. I can't take it personally.
"Thanks." My fingers curl into the fabric of my jeans. Practice. This is only practice. And I do want to study. "Can I try?"
Surprise fills his dark eyes. "On me?"
"Yeah."
"Sure," he says.
"You'll tell me if I fuck it up?"
He nods. "Not too hard."
"I know."
"I don't want to leave here bleeding."
"Am I that helpless?"
"We'll see." He tries to keep the humor in his voice, but he doesn't quite manage.
He wants to kiss me too.
I ignore the need in his voice.
"How about this?" I bring my hand to his cheek and bring my lips to his.
It's different, kissing him, instead of him kissing me. Safer in some ways. Dangerous in others.
I drink in the taste of his lips, the feeling of power. There's something thrilling about leading him, knowing he's following my movements.
Only it's too thrilling. Overwhelming. I pull back with a heavy sigh.
"Sorry." I keep my hand on his cheek. "Let me go again."
He nods intently, the perfect teacher, ready to train for hours.
I start with a soft kiss. Slowly, I part my lips, wrap them around his bottom lip.
