He took her face between his hands and she felt a rush of heat flood her that made her want to close her eyes and possibly faint. But she wasn’t far off eye level in the new shoes, and Adam was staring at her so intently, so … so intimately, she wanted, needed, to see him looking at her just like that. Her eyes therefore had to stay open.
‘Inappropriate where?’ she asked, and her voice was hardly more than a breath.
‘In this case, we’ve got two inappropriate destinations at hand. My jeep. And your legs. Well, I’ll start with your legs, anyway. My hand might climb a little higher as we go.’
Something arced between them. Something that caused Lane’s breath to jam in her throat. She was aware of an overpowering desire to kiss him.
She reached her arms around his waist and leaned into him, lifting her face, her mouth, silently asking.
‘I hope you’re going to kiss me, Lane,’ Adam said.
She raised up, the last tiny little bit, and put her mouth on his.
***
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. She might be a novice, but she was so damn good.
Adam groaned as her tongue swirled into his mouth. He wanted to wind his hands into her beautiful hair and take over the kiss, angling her to fit their mouths more closely, but he forced himself to stay still, with his hands on her face.
This was the first time she’d initiated contact, and he wanted her to do it her way. Do it any way she wanted. And her way turned out to be hard and hot. The way she sucked his tongue was a little clumsy, but it was also incredibly arousing. She eased back a little, rubbing her lips across his, then finished with one tiny, chaste kiss.
She gazed up at him, looking delighted … but nervous, too. Waiting for her score. ‘Did I do it right?’ she asked.
He moved then, taking her in his arms. ‘Can you feel that, Lane?’ he asked, and pushed his hips against hers. He was so hard it was painful. It was like all the blood in his body had rushed to his pants and metamorphosed into a scorched titanium tower.
Her eyes widened. She nodded.
‘That means you did it right. Now, get in. Lesson time.’
She scrambled to do as he asked—giving him an eyeful of serviceable white panties as she navigated the climb up into the seat in her high heels and tight dress, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t depraved enough to jump her bones when she was half in/half out of a vehicle on a public street, but he thought it best not to push the issue.
The moment he pulled out from the kerb, his put his hand on her knee.
She jumped, and breathed out a nervous, ‘Ooooh.’
He smiled, and slid his hand a little higher. ‘It’s going to go all the way up, Lane, so get ready.’
‘Wh-where are we going?’
‘My place.’ Hand edging a little higher.
‘Oh. Wh-why?’
He moved his hand higher again, so that his fingers were skimming the hem of her dress. ‘Because Erica doesn’t live there.’
His fingers were underneath her hem now, slipping to the inside of her thigh.
‘Didn’t you … ahh … like her?’
‘Don’t like, don’t dislike. Just don’t care to have an audience for my next kissing lesson.’
‘Oh. More kissing. I thought we were going to—ohh—get to … you know … get to … the next level.’
‘It’s a step forward, Lane, I promise. Ask me where I’m going to kiss you.’
She was having great difficulty catching her breath. Her thigh was tense, braced, under his hand. ‘Where?’
‘Open your legs a little more, Lane,’ he said in answer.
She did as she was told, and his fingers swooped, rubbing over the cotton between her thighs. ‘Right about here,’ he said.
‘You can’t kiss me there!’
‘It’s called cunnilingus, my little scholar, and I not only can, but will.’
‘But we haven’t even done it yet.’
‘There’s no set order for doing these things.’
‘But are you sure you want to? I don’t want you to do anything most men don’t want to. And I read an article that said— Oh, my God!’
His fingers were inside her panties now, reaching into the moisture, then shifting, circling her clitoris. ‘How are you going there, Lane?’ Ready to beg, yet?
‘I—I … I don’t want to talk …’
‘In answer to your question, yes, I do want to do it to you, Lane. I want to kiss you right … here. Are you going to let me?’
‘Yes, yes, just …’
She squirmed, a look of such intense concentration on her face as she made those restless, shifting movements, he thought he was going to have to pull over and finish this. But he kept driving, torturing her, torturing himself. God, he wanted to see her there. He wanted his fingers inside her, his mouth over her.
They pulled into his street and he thanked God for the parking spot he could see right in front of the house—it was closer than the garage at the back. He screeched to a stop, withdrew his hand, tugged her dress back into place. Looked at her, saw the amazement on her face …
‘The sooner we get inside, the sooner I finish,’ he said.
Lane all but leapt out of the car.
***
Lane’s head was spinning, so she only managed a snapshot-look at Adam’s street—the row of historic terrace houses on one side, a lovely lush park on the other, huge fig trees arching their branches across the street to form a canopy like a grand cathedral ceiling—before Adam grabbed her hand and pulled her after him. A brief glimpse of the house, painted dark grey with black iron lacework trim, and she was stumbling in her new shoes after Adam, through the gate and up three steps to the door.
She heard Adam swear under his breath—he seemed to be having trouble getting the key in the lock—but it took only moments to get inside the house. A fleeting impression of a hallway, a richly hued rug, lots of paintings—and then Adam grabbed Lane’s hand again and dragged her down the hallway, past rooms on the left that blazed colour and warmth through their open doorways, heading straight for a set of stairs and up. She barely had time to draw breath at the top before he pulled her into a room. Greens, golds, maroons. Two large paintings. French doors leading to a tiny balcony.
And a bed. Big. Beautiful. Grand-looking.
Without uttering one word, Adam spun her to face him and pushed her backwards onto the bed. He hiked up the hem of her dress and within seconds had yanked her panties down and off.
He stopped then, looked at her.
‘Thank God,’ he said reverently.
Lane instinctively reached for the hem of her dress to tug it down.
But his hands were there, halting her. ‘Thank God for what?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘I’m not a fan of Brazilian waxes, Lane. And you, my fiery-haired sweetheart, are perfect.’
‘Oh. Erica said I should … should … you know. But I was too … too … embarrassed. To do it, I mean.’ She tugged again on her dress.
Again, Adam stopped her. ‘You tell Erica to keep her shears out of my garden for the next three months.’
He knelt between her legs, nudged her thighs apart and looked again. ‘Beautiful,’ he breathed out, and without giving her any further warning, put his mouth on her.
Lane arched up off the bed. Wow. Wow! It was the best thing in the world. His tongue was teasing that spot, licking, circling. She could feel the delicious, breathtaking anticipation that had been hovering over her in the jeep, only magnified a thousand times. It made her shiver, then whimper, then shake, and lunge closer to try and force his mouth more firmly against her.
She couldn’t seem to control anything. Not her movements, not her breathing, not her heartbeat, not the sounds coming out of her mouth. It was building, building. His tongue was inside her … no, it wasn’t, it was back, circling that little spot … no, inside her. And then his mouth covered her, and he sucked, sucked, licked, sucked … Ohh
h … Ahhhhhhhh …
Lane screamed as every muscle in her body tensed and something incandescent erupted like a flare inside her. The pleasure went on and on and on, and tremors shook her so hard she thought she might be having a heart attack.
Through it all, Adam kept his mouth on her. Licking, soothing, kissing, until finally, she stilled, worn out. Another gentle kiss, and then he seemed to freeze. A moment later, he tugged her hem back into place, slid up next to her on the bed and rolled onto his back.
They lay in silence, side by side.
What did a girl say after an experience like that? She turned to Adam, hoping for a clue … and her heart plummeted.
The half of his face she could see looked appalled. Worse than appalled—disgusted.
So. He’d hated it. Or she’d done it wrong. Or all those things she couldn’t control while he was doing that to her were repulsive to him.
‘It was bad, wasn’t it,’ she said.
Adam threw an arm over his eyes. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lane.’
‘If it was good, you wouldn’t be looking like that.’
He removed his arm and glared at her. ‘Like what?’
‘Like you’d just made the biggest mistake of your life.’
He laughed—a sour, almost defeated sound. ‘It was a mistake but don’t flatter yourself that it was the biggest of my life. I just didn’t expect to … I mean, this wasn’t supposed to … That is …’ He stopped. Sighed. ‘This was not according to plan. That’s all. Nothing more than that.’
‘It wasn’t according to plan? I don’t understand.’
No answer.
‘What plan?’
Silence.
Lane swallowed. Do something. ‘What about if I … If I …’
‘Spit it out, for God’s sake.’
‘If I even the score. You know, do to you what you just did to me.’ Please say yes. Please, please, please, let me try.
‘It may have escaped your notice, but I have different body parts.’
‘If it’s escaped my notice, it’s only because you won’t show me yours.’
He looked at her for one long, fraught moment while she held her breath and hoped. And then: ‘Right,’ he said, and got off the bed.
In one furious jerk, he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Next, his hands went to the waistband of his jeans. Unbuttoned. Unzipped. Shoved down past his knees. He was wearing white hipster trunks, the cotton stretched taut over a massive, straining erection. In the next moment, the underwear was shoved down too.
Lane’s pulse went crazy and her mouth went dry.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Now you’ve seen. Now what?’
Swallow. ‘Well, I think I should touch.’
He groaned, and seemed to grow bigger before her eyes. And then he nodded. Tersely, but it was a definite nod.
Lane got off the bed and came to him. Tentatively, she reached out and stroked a fingertip, once, along the shaft. ‘Is that okay?’ she asked.
He said nothing. He was gritting his teeth. Was that a bad sign? She thought not, except that his face looked so strained, she couldn’t be sure. But he wasn’t telling her to stop, so she did it again, a little more firmly. Then, catching her tongue between her teeth, she put her hand around him and held on. It felt … amazing. Hot and hard and satiny. She could see a bead of moisture on the tip and without thinking, she dropped to her knees, licked it.
‘Enough,’ Adam said, his voice hoarse.
‘Sorry,’ she said, and got hurriedly to her feet. ‘Perhaps you can tell me how to do it right and I can try again.’
But Adam was yanking his underwear and jeans back up.
She watched as he shoved his arms into his buttonless shirt. ‘Adam, I’m sorry if that was no good, but you have to show me what to do or I won’t learn.’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Lane.’
She shook her head, confused. ‘Then why did you want me to stop?’
‘Only because … because you were … Ah, hell.’ Adam shifted restlessly on his feet. ‘I was too excited, that’s all.’
‘You were excited … so you told me to stop?’ Lane’s brow puckered. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’
Adam shifted again. ‘Too excited. Too! It’s a matter of—’ He broke off, swore. ‘There’s a certain measure of … of ego involved. If a man’s too excited too quickly he—ah, he—um—’
‘I see,’ Lane said, nodding sagely. ‘It’s a problem with premature ejaculation.’
Adam recoiled as though she’d touched a flaming torch to him. ‘It bloody well is not.’
‘Then what is it?’
Adam ran a hand over his hair. ‘It’s the effect you have on me.’
‘An effect that means you can’t bear for me to touch you?’
‘Yes. I guess. Yes, yes.’ He looked frazzled. ‘Yes, dammit.’
Lane blinked hard. Remembered how DeWayne was, right after they’d done it. He’d run to the bathroom and washed her off. Had barely looked at her when he’d come back into the room. Just gestured to her clothes, basically telling her to get lost. That same shock, the dismay, the sense of utter failure, rushed at her now. Awful.
But she had to know, so she steeled herself and asked, ‘Do you think that’s likely to happen with other men?’
‘Hell yes,’ he burst out, ‘if you respond like … that …’
‘Like … that …?’
‘When I had my mouth, my tongue, on you.’
‘And that’s something you think you can help me with? I mean … so I don’t have that effect on men?’
‘I don’t know, Lane. You’re … surprising, I guess. We’ll have to see what happens.’
‘Then that’s all we can expect, isn’t it?’ Lane gave him a bleak little smile. ‘I don’t want any more lessons today.’
‘I’ll take you home,’ Adam said with an alacrity that was discouraging.
They didn’t speak until Adam pulled up outside Lane’s house, when he said without looking at her, ‘Blood test results will be back Monday.’
‘Yes.’
‘So I’ll come by on … say … Wednesday? Oh, hang on.’ He looked at her then. ‘Where’s Erica going to be?’
‘She’ll be in LA so the coast will be clear,’ Lane said, although she was wondering why they’d bothered with the blood tests and why the coast needed to be clear. It looked as though there wasn’t going to be any actual intercourse happening if Adam couldn’t even bear for her to touch him.
***
Adam watched Lane disappear into her house with her shopping bags and cursed his own traitorous body.
He was an idiot.
It was as simple as that.
One kiss from her—on a damn footpath!—and he’d lost any semblance of intelligence and whatever dregs of self-control he could still lay claim to. Playing with her legs, using his fingers on her while they were driving along a busy road. Then falling on her like some pathetic, sex-starved beast the moment he got her on his bed.
Not that he wasn’t sex-starved. He bloody well was.
But she hadn’t begged, like he wanted. He hadn’t given her time to beg.
‘You’re a fucking moron,’ he muttered, as he started the car and drove off.
Yep, he was a moron. But how was he supposed to think straight when she responded like that? So uninhibited, so eager and lusty and hot and wet and wild. Everything about her had excited him. The look, the taste, the smell, the feel of her, the sounds she’d made.
And then … the kicker. ‘A problem with premature ejaculation.’ So straight-faced, so earnest and wise and understanding and forgiving.
The worst of it was he finally had some sympathy for the original premature ejaculator, DeWayne the Douchebag, because Adam was fairly certain he’d shoot like a rocket within seconds the first time he was inside her.
A problem with premature ejaculation.
Onl
y Lane could make that sound like it was an algorithm to work out.
And suddenly Adam started to laugh. And laugh, and laugh, and laugh. He laughed so hard he had to pull over to the side of the road because he was sure he was going to have an accident, his convulsions were so violent.
Gradually, the laughter stopped, and he started frowning.
He’d been too stressed out to answer her intelligently at the end, and he was fairly certain he’d done something wrong. Put things badly. Made her feel inadequate, when she was anything but.
He didn’t want her to feel like that. It wasn’t fair that she should be made to feel like that. She’d said something about needing his help so she didn’t have that effect on other men. Like she was the one who’d done something wrong, when it was all his fault things had got out of control. Other men would be damn lucky to have her, judging by what he’d just experienced.
Other men.
Whoa. Other men.
Adam realized he didn’t like the thought that someone else was going to be doing to Lane what he’d done today. Doing everything to her that Adam had done so far. Doing everything he hadn’t yet done. Doing it all.
Other men.
David.
He caught sight of his face in the rear-view mirror. His bemused, unhappy face.
Uh-oh. This was not good.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Four days was a long time to stew over how you’d managed to so monumentally ruin the experience of your first teacher-student orgasm.
Lane had no idea what to expect from Adam when he arrived on Wednesday night as scheduled, test results in hand, but she put on one of her new dresses and left her hair out the way Adam seemed to like it in an effort to … to … Oh admit it! In an effort to make him want to give her another orgasm! Clothes, hair, a quick nip of Erica’s vodka, and she figured she was as ready as she’d ever be to face whatever Adam was going to do to her.
So it was anticlimactic to answer the knock on her door twenty minutes before Adam was due to arrive and see her brother.
‘New clothes. Nice,’ Brad said, eyes running quickly, impatiently, over her.
Without waiting for an invitation, he shuffled past her, into the house. ‘Lane …’ he began, as she closed the door, giving her what she called ‘the look’. Half-sheepish, half-defiant.
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