Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen)

by Natalie Anderson

  Finally she snapped out of that insane sensual haze.

  WTF?

  She looked back at Joe, stunned again as she absorbed her own reaction. Since when did she want like this? So fast and hot and crazy. She’d never felt this for Scott. Never ached to rip his clothes off and rub herself against his abs—and below. Certainly not within five seconds of laying eyes on him. She’d never wanted to press herself forward like some kind of sexual offering. This total insta-lust wasn’t normal, was it?

  She froze. Maybe it was? Maybe this was why Scott had said sex with her had sucked? Because she’d never wanted him like this?

  “How hard do you want me to get?”

  Joe’s words ricocheted through her body, stoking the fire that had so swiftly flared. Her focus shot back to his eyes. She felt branded. From skin through to bone, desire burned. But she was paralyzed—her brain, body, every bit of her.

  Too hot. Too crazy.

  Damn. She hated being unable to think. Hated being rendered speechless. It rarely happened; she rarely let it happen. Because it wasn’t her—she wasn’t literally dumb in this way.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she muttered jerkily. Why had she thought talking sexy would be a good idea? Too much. Too soon. She was on a learner’s license—she shouldn’t be trying to drive a Ferrari.

  He laughed. “You started it.” Amusement danced in his face—tangoing with something a touch more sinful. “We’re both adults. No age of consent issues now.”

  Her jaw dropped. As if there’d been any age of consent issues back then. She might have been ten months younger than the rest of her class, but he’d never noticed her like that.

  “Anyway.” He winked at her. “What’s so fascinating you don’t stop to look for traffic?”

  Before she could stop him, he picked up the earbud hanging down over her breasts.

  With her brain still frozen and her body still on lockdown, she didn’t even think to hit the pause icon. Instead she tuned in—Sasha Fox had been instructing this whole time.

  “The easiest access spots are above the neck. Start with his lips, because the nerve endings are very sensitive there. Rub your nipple between them but ban him from sucking or licking. He’ll be craving a taste in seconds—”

  Chapter Two

  “Attract many, but choose only one.”

  Joe flinched as Abigail pulled the bud away from his ear. He stared at her. What kind of freaking audiobook was that?

  Rub her nipple against his mouth?

  Yes, please.

  Now, please.

  He inhaled sharply, fighting to get his body and brain back under control.

  Don’t look down. Don’t check out the hourglass curves again…

  Fuck, it was too late. He was already hard from just looking at her pretty, pink-tinged face. The long brunette bangs of her school days were gone, and now her hair was swept up on her head in a soft pile leaving her neck exposed—and her eyes clear. Staring into them was no hardship. Sparkling, that distinctive bright blue was offset by the black of her swiftly swelling pupils. Big, beautiful eyes. He’d noticed them all those years ago in school.

  They were how he’d recognized her here today—but he’d never seen her body like this. She’d been the nerd squad’s main mascot, had always worn a huge wool scarf that had swamped her whole torso. More than that, she hadn’t just had a “don’t look and don’t touch” vibe; that edict had all but been tattooed on her forehead. No chit, no chat, it was all serious study.

  It was only because of their math tutoring sessions that Joe knew what color her eyes were. Focused, intent, she’d been eager to help him. No one had ever been eager to help him like that—he’d been just another case on someone’s overwhelming workload, a source of yet more paperwork. But Abigail had looked at him like she was interested on many levels. Like she gave a damn.

  It had hit him hard—he’d wanted to kiss her, touch her, see if she was as focused and eager for sex as she was for study. But she’d put her head back down and never looked him in the eye again. A couple times after their sessions had ended, he’d smiled at her, but she’d looked away. He hadn’t bothered after that. Then he’d been distracted by other girls—the ones who’d chased him.

  Not even an incoming asteroid storm could distract him from her now. Yeah, those too few lessons in the freaking school library had forged a fascination with her that apparently hadn’t died.

  And she was listening to a lecture about male erogenous zones? His whole frigging body was an erogenous zone and had been since he’d seen her saunter across the road right in front of that oncoming car, wearing a dress that showed off those lusher-than-lush curves.

  Animal magnetism had struck at its most basic: see; want; sex.

  Now the rush of red in her cheeks deepened and she looked away. He was hot under the collar too. Sex tips at ten past nine in the morning?

  His former math tutor had gone all temptress on him and he couldn’t be more shocked than if a pig were to fly right by. How often did teenage fantasies become walking realities?

  She was within reach, yet just out of it.

  Almost temptress, she’d reverted to shy again. She couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore.

  He’d never had to chase a woman before; they usually offered. So for a moment he just stared at her, too stunned by seeing her to figure out how best to make his next move.

  But he was so fucking making a move.

  “I better get to work. I’m late,” she said.

  Her voice had gone husky. Embarrassed. A random flare of protectiveness surged in his chest and he bit back his smile. Some things didn’t change all that much. She was still shy, for all the supposed pole dancing. And was she still the same studious Abigail—getting all her info from books.

  Was that what this was about? She wanted to learn more about men? Hell, he couldn’t help her in any kinda relationship department, but he was more than qualified to help her with the hands-on, practical component if she wanted.

  She turned away.

  “No.” He reached for her wrist.

  He felt her smooth warmth beneath his broad palm and had to resist the urge to clamp tighter and pull her close against him again. Her pulse beat beneath his fingers—quicker with every passing second. Her blush deepened. He waited, regulating his own breathing, tempering his own too-sharp arousal. Gently does it.

  Finally she sent him a swift glance.

  Pure willingness lurked in her eyes.

  Adrenaline burned.

  He restrained the urge to haul her to him and claim everything like some warlord from the Dark Ages.

  He smiled, trying to ease the predatory hunger that was likely plastered on his face. What was with all the “must dominate” urges? He was Mr. Casual, not Mr. Must-Capture-and-Hold-Close-at-All-Costs.

  “I’ll walk you to work.” That would give him more time to think of a plan.

  Her lashes lowered. He felt her trying to draw away.

  “Abigail?”

  “Not today. Thanks.” Her murmur degenerated to a hoarse whisper.

  Before he could think, she flicked her wrist free of his grip, turned, and all but ran away.

  Joe hesitated, undecided. Then sighed and stayed still. He’d let her go. Despite the growing distance between them, he could see the red flush staining the back of her neck and the tips of her ears as she continued on down the sidewalk. She really was mortified.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned ruefully as he watched her. He hadn’t had a woman run from him ever—generally they ran to him. So maybe it was better to let her leave now and recover.

  But this wasn’t over. Not when he’d seen that heat in her eyes.

  He’d have to track her down. She’d be online, or he could call one of the guys from school or—

  Eyes narrowing, he watched her walk in the direction he too had to go.

  He’d keep an eye on her for as long as he could and give her some space. And if
she worked here in the SoMa area of San Francisco, then maybe she lived nearby too. He’d find her.

  As he followed her fragrant trail, he saw the heads turning in the passing cars and inwardly chuckled. Even without the jaywalking, she was going to cause an accident.

  She wasn’t hiding her body under wool now. Did she want to put her erogenous zones to their proper use? He could help her with that.

  Abigail Hayes had thrown him the ball.

  And Joe Fuller always had liked a game of one-on-one.

  Chapter Three

  “Start with yourself. Pick your favorite body part and emphasize it.”

  Why had she fast-forwarded the audio book to the sex chapter? Oh yeah, because she was desperate to learn how to perform porn-worthy sex.

  And now? Her pride was more than shredded, it was pulped. To be caught out by Joe Fuller listening to a “how to screw a guy” audiobook? It couldn’t get worse. And like she could even try to explain it had been—mostly—for work? Not after that stupid sexy talk she’d tried.

  Pole dancing? What had she been thinking?

  Mortified, she fumbled with her security pass, then scuttled into the building, her body still burning as she rode the elevator to the fifth floor.

  “Oh my, you look edible.” Nadia walked over to Abbi as soon as she saw her hurrying to her cubicle. “You sure you don’t want to experiment with your inner lesbian instead?”

  Abbi shook her head but smiled. “Thanks anyway. I appreciate the boost.”

  Nadia was the most generous person Abbi’d ever met, but she was also Ms. Action Woman. A few weeks ago when Abbi had shared the Scott debacle, Nadia had marched her to her personal tailor the same day and demanded express service. She’d pushed Abbi toward new dresses, shoes, makeup…and most importantly, attitude.

  “Obligatory gay BFF at your service.” Nadia curtsied, holding out an imaginary skirt from her leather micro-shorts-clad legs—an outfit bordering on the inappropriate, even given the fact that it was Saturday and there’d be no visitors to HQ. “You’re killing me with that dress. Promise me you’ll wear it to the party. Why do you want a guy so bad when you could have me?” Nadia looked her up and down again and smacked her lips in satisfaction. “I do believe we’ve done it. Transformation to vixen, complete.”

  “No, I’m so not.” Abbi pressed her cold hands to her still-flaming cheeks as she rounded her desk. “I just embarrassed myself like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “How?” Nadia leaned her elbow on the top of the partition. “Spill.”

  “Can’t. Need time to get over it.” More time to let her heart normalize. It was knocking the heck out of her rib cage from the thrill of Joe’s big hand holding her wrist so hard. And to be turned on by something as minor as that…?

  Okay, he was also handsome. And had a smile that could melt any woman’s permanently welded chastity belt.

  “This involves a guy?” Nadia wrinkled her nose at Abbi’s nod. “Tell all at coffee in an hour.”

  “Deal.” She sank into her chair and stared at the piles of paperwork balancing in precarious towers around her supersize screen.

  Great start to the day, Hayes. Really great.

  She sighed and pushed the button to power up her computer. Her Vixenator app needed a whole lot more effort. So did she. Most of the articles urged restraint with smexy talk—too soon was too strong. Well, they were right. She’d definitely put that article at the top in the app. But she’d had the vixen stuff in her head, and Joe Fuller in her face and…ugh. He must think she was such a loser.

  It was her fault for being so late out of the blocks. Most girls got “how to score” skills way sooner. But while Abbi had developed physically before all of them, she’d hidden from the sexual attention. Other girls appeared to revel in it. She’d never learned to deal with the attention. To harness it or even enjoy it.

  Time for a change. She was twenty-five years old and had taken a grand total of two lovers. One for less than a year. The other a one-night stand from hell. She’d never experienced the mind-numbing orgasms she’d read about. She was always too aware of the awkwardness of the moment.

  She should be embracing it—enjoying herself. She just needed confidence. Confidence and some moves. No more boring.

  She sighed again and tried to put the angst to the back of her mind. There was a systems update to do.

  “They’ve got the best photo shoot happening downstairs. You gotta come watch.” Nadia reappeared over her partition less than half an hour later.

  “I’ve already told you I’m not into girls.” Abbi chuckled. The mag had its own image studio on the floor below and frequently did shoots with models and celebs. She knew today’s shoot was for a personal training layout and she had no interest in checking out a bunch of Lycra-clad women with perfect fit bodies.

  “No, there’s one for you too.” Nadia winked. “Come on, you’re going to thank me for it.”

  “Like I’m going to thank you for this?” Abbi held up the hot-pink vibrator, still in its sterilized packaging. Nadia had left it beside her keyboard three days ago.

  One of the bonuses about working at the magazine was the product sampling. Abbi liked the edible freebies best, but Nadia kept handing her the sex samples.

  “Oh, you should so thank me for that.” Nadia frowned. “How can you not have taken it home yet?” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m trying so hard for you, and you’re not holding up your end of the bargain.”

  “I’m doing the literature review first.” Abbi waved her hand over the pile of how-to articles she’d pulled.

  “You can do practical at the same time.”

  Abbi glanced at the twenty other sex products Nadia had thrown on her desk. Tingle gel, soft satin blindfold, edible prophylactics, and some metal items that looked more like torture devices than orgasm inducers. “Aren’t you supposed to test these for your column?”

  Nadia was the sex and relationships guru.

  “No, you are. Test and report back.” Nadia rolled her eyes. Her teasing gaze narrowed at something in a clear plastic wrapper on Abbi’s desk. “You know that clit clamp is the best sex toy on the market.”

  Abbi winced and spun her chair away from her screen, her knees firmly together. “Never going to happen.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” Nadia snorted. “At least start with the basics. Let’s get some visuals going to get the motor running again, shall we?”

  Abbi suppressed her sigh and stood. Getting away from watching the new software load painfully slowly wasn’t a bad idea. As they walked out to the lobby, the bass beat thumped up the stairwell.

  A minute later, from the open doorway of the fourth-floor studio, Abbi saw that three office chairs had been set up in a line and a business-wear-clad model sat on each. With the music pumping, the models primed, the photographer was in full flight, calling out instructions to light, hair, and makeup assistants. Abbi paused, not going into the room. She wasn’t in the mood for the perfect people today, even though they were perfectly lovely women with whom she liked having a laugh.

  “Come on.” Nadia grabbed her hand and marched her through the door.

  Abbi stepped to the side, keeping out of the way. There was the usual plethora of assistants armed with lights, cameras, and tackle boxes spilling makeup, but Abbi’s attention was caught by the man standing with his back to her. Actually he was bending over a desk, so it was more his butt facing her. It was a fine, tight butt heading up long, long legs, all encased in slimline navy sweatpants. The pants hung in a way that implied long, strong muscles. A bright white shirt was loose at his narrow waist, but then stretched tight over his broad shoulders. The brightness accentuated his tanned forearms. Wow.

  As she stared, he straightened up. All. The. Way.

  Abbi’s heart stopped.

  Joe was the new personal training go-to guy? The one who’d be doing the weekly online feature showing off exercise moves and giving tips? He’d be all over the
website—all over her domain in his let-me-get-sweaty get-fit gear?

  Abbi drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think I want to—”

  “Yeah you do.” Nadia chuckled. Her friend angled her head to the side as one of the female models stretched back on the swivel chair and spread her legs wide to the sides.

  “Can someone fix Tracy’s skirt? I don’t want to see her sparkly thong,” the photographer shouted.

  “No?” Tracy fluttered her lashes at Joe. “Who’s to say I’m wearing a thong?”

  Nadia chuckled. Abbi grimaced bitchily—according to the article in last month’s mag, vajazzling was so last year.

  “Don’t try to mess with him.” The photographer snorted. “He’s seen better.”

  Tracy poked her tongue out and the photographer laughed.

  Joe grinned but said nothing.

  Abbi gritted her teeth. It figured. Joe Fuller had seen more than his share of beautiful women, and now here he was in the middle of a photo shoot with three of them.

  So what was he going to get them to do? Were they going to use their laptops as free weights?

  Abbi waited, her irritation that it wasn’t just Tracy trying to impress him growing—all the models were smiling and laughing and eager to do whatever he wanted them to.

  Oh yeah, they were all so willing to let him.

  “It’s all about sneaking in some exercise while at work,” Nadia said.

  “Because we’re all so desperate to do that,” Abbi said acidly.

  She watched Joe talk the women through the next pose and then manipulate one model into position as the photographer snapped pictures. Joe’s hands glided over the girl’s limbs like he’d been touching her that way for years. Like he was used to having total control over a woman’s body.

  Liquid heat scalded Abbi’s gut. Her abs clenched. Indigestion, that was all.

  “Hold it as long as you can,” he instructed the model, turning around with a smile. “Hold it tight. I want you to feel the burn.” Confident, authoritative. Bossy.

  He glanced over to the doorway and stilled. He blinked, cocking his head slightly as his gaze locked on her. He stared, then, slowly, his gaze drifted down over her body, then back up.