Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen)

by Natalie Anderson

  “No time. I’ve never had time for a girlfriend.”

  And never would. That finality rang in his tone.

  She took a long drink of the almost-frozen water, but it barely cooled her. “So you just have…flings?” Fuck buddies? Did he make arrangements like this all the time?

  He nodded. “Just simple, carefree.”

  “How do you keep it carefree?” She set her glass down on the stainless steel counter between them.

  “Keep it finite.”

  By that he meant short term. “And your partners are all okay with that?”

  “If they’re not, we don’t play.”

  But he didn’t want anything more? No relationship as such? Just a variety of sexual partners? He was that comfortable with living life alone?

  She remembered the lack of personal objects, and figured maybe he’d always been alone…her stupid heart pulled.

  “You ready for that shower?” His eyes sparkled with intent.

  She nodded. Getting that he was closing the conversation. She smiled, trying to let him know he didn’t need to worry. She wasn’t going to pry more. Ask for more. Not in any way other than what they’d already arranged. And she was telling her already soft heart to harden up.

  “Yeah, just a quickie, then I’d really better get home. I need to organize things for my week.”

  He stalked forward and picked her up. “I think we can do better than a quickie.”

  Her brain shorted out at the feel of his flexing pecs and abs hard against her. “This is still part of the first lesson, right?”

  He just laughed.

  His shower was one of those flashy ones with a million nozzles pointing at all kinds of interesting angles. Hot, steamy, sensational. Especially as he helped lather the soap and swipe it over every inch of her skin. Only now she wanted everything, all over again.

  “Face the wall.” He nuzzled her ear and put her hands flat against the tiles so she could brace herself. Her legs were shaking.

  He laughed—that low, sexy chuckle that told her he knew just how aroused she was. How much she wanted.

  And then he gave it to her. Nothing quick about it.

  An hour later she was dressed and sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

  “I didn’t know you lived so close,” he said once she gave him the directions. “It’s only a ten-minute ride.”

  “We should have walked,” she murmured, languid and satisfied.

  He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re not up to it.”

  A few moments later, they pulled in front of her apartment complex and she climbed from the car. He followed her but she stood at the gate, blocking him. “Thank you for—”

  He cut her off by pressing lips on hers. Abbi instantly opened. He wrapped his arms tight around her and lifted her off her feet, hauling her close against his chest, secure in his embrace.

  She was as surprised and touched as she was aroused. How could she want him again when she’d been so thoroughly screwed these last few hours?

  He lowered her back to her feet and slowly drew away, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers in a gentle, teasing gesture. Like she was someone he liked to kid around with.

  “Don’t overthink things,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Don’t overthink things? How could she not overthink things after an experience like that?

  She watched him get back in the car. But he didn’t leave. He lowered the window and called out to her.

  “Get in your house. I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

  It was only midafternoon—hardly dark and dangerous. She smothered a grin at his protectiveness and hurried to her door, still flying on the orgasmic aftershocks.

  So now she knew: she didn’t need to be in a committed, loving relationship to have the best sex of her life.

  She flicked on the light in her apartment and stared at the half-constructed Lego city on her dining table. Good thing he hadn’t come in with her. The place was a mess and had “nerd alert” written all over it. Yeah, that was going to have to go—at least into a cupboard for the next week. This might be an arrangement, but she was learning all she could from it.

  Sasha Fox—and every other article she’d read—had said the trick to getting a guy’s interest was not to talk about yourself. Not to be boring. Not be needy and ask for attention or ask him to solve your insecurities.

  Well, she’d failed at that already by telling Joe her sexual insecurities. But she wasn’t going to give him any more to have to deal with. No man wanted to have to deal with a needy, clingy woman. This was only about fun for him and learning bedroom skills for her. Not emotional support.

  As for her supposed submissive streak? He was right—she’d liked it when he took control. She’d liked the idea of him tying her up. But this wasn’t supposed to be about what she liked. He was honorable in saying that sex should be good for both, but she wanted it to be the best for him.

  So she should ask him questions, listen avidly—no problem there when she was so curious about him. She should laugh at his jokes, which wasn’t hard, because he was fun. But she was going to have to try harder to keep her own selfish urges under control. Because her ultimate aim in this wasn’t for her to have the best sex of her life.

  But for him to.

  Chapter Ten

  “Always leave him wanting more.”

  Joe woke two seconds before his alarm sounded. He rolled his shoulders and thrust back the sheet. Thanks to Abbi, he’d just had the best night’s sleep in months. The best dreams too, where he spent all his time plotting out his lesson plans for her. He always ensured his lovers were satisfied, but this was different. He wanted her to have the best. Sex was about the only way in which he could deliver that for her.

  He just had to remember it was all about her. Sure, he was fulfilling an old fantasy, but it wasn’t anything more than that. This need to push her was only about the physical, right?

  Damn, it was going to be a good week. He stretched out in the shower, thinking of what he’d do to her…was hard all over again. Yeah. Time to call a halt to that. He had work to do. He quickly toweled off and got into his workout gear.

  He ran down the stairs just in time, ready to greet his Monday morning regulars. “You ready to sweat, you suckers?” he called, grinning widely. “I’m not feeling lenient today.”

  He felt like making everyone work. He needed the exercise to eat up his abundance of energy. And he sure as shit had a ton of energy. So he took the second class as well.

  “Back-to-back cross-training?” his receptionist asked. “Are you crazy?”

  No, he just had a lot to think about. He’d told Abbi not to overthink things, but now he was the one who couldn’t stop. Thoughts of her dominated his mind. He wondered how long she’d been working at the magazine, where she’d been before. Wondered more about the jerk boyfriend. Wondered whether she’d ride him hard if she was on top—wondered how he could get her to stop thinking long enough to let herself do that.

  His body was surprisingly stiff in some areas. It had been a while since he’d had marathon sex. The residual aches only made him want more. Like now.

  In the end he spent the whole day in a futile attempt to concentrate on things other than the memory of Abbi in his bed. The only way he’d succeeded as much as he had was by single-minded determination. No distractions. Until now there’d been nothing and no one that had distracted him. But today?

  Good thing there were only five more lessons. He couldn’t let this bleed into the rest of his life, and he certainly did not chase.

  But twenty minutes after he finished taking the 6:00 p.m. cross-training class, Joe knocked on the door he’d seen Abbi go into last night. There’d been more than one reason he’d insisted on driving her home. Seeing her safe was a priority, sure, but he’d wanted to know where she lived. They hadn’t had the time for much swapping of personal details—other than some sexual preferences—but that didn’t mean he wasn’
t interested.

  He shouldn’t be here at all. He should be back at the gym, sorting through the job application forms, because he needed at least three new instructors for the new venue. He should be checking the monthly accounts. There were so many damn things he should be doing.

  Instead he was waiting at her door.

  She opened it remarkably quickly, her lower lip caught in her teeth, her cheeks reddening. “Joe.”

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes, amused at her casual T-shirt and loose jeans. “Did you check the peephole before answering?”

  Her blush deepened. “No, I was in a hurry, I—” She broke off. “How can I help you?”

  Joe hesitated, unused to this kind of hesitation from a woman—usually he’d be inside the door and half naked already. Yet he knew Abbi was pleased to see him; it was obvious in her color. In her quickened breathing. In the desire clouding her eyes. But she wasn’t making it easy for him, and he was used to easy.

  The need to challenge her bit deep. Irresistible. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You ready for your second lesson?”

  Her eyes widened. “Now?”

  “Today’s subject is spontaneity.” He improvised. Spontaneously. “There’s nothing like spontaneous sex.”

  “Uh.” She just stared at him.

  Speechless? Good.

  He thudded his shoulder against the doorjamb, blocking it. “You wanted a detailed schedule and lesson plan?” He shook his head. “You would. You’re the kind to do all the term’s required reading before lectures start. But you’ve done the theory here. The point of the practical is the unexpected.”

  She opened the door all the way. “Then you’d better come in.”

  He winked to keep it light, but an outsize level of hot satisfaction pooled in his belly, sending a surge of adrenaline to his muscles. “That’s more like it.”

  She laughed. “I can only get better, right?”

  “I’m not the one thinking you need to get better.” He walked inside and looked around the studio. It was neat as a pin, but man, it was packed with stuff. He did a slow circle in the center of the room—there were pictures, plants, books, computers, and neat rows and rows of woven storage baskets holding who knew what.

  “It’s not always like this,” she supplied. “I tidied up.”

  She had? Hell, there were books and pictures and things everywhere. “How long have you been living here?”

  “A couple of months.”

  And she had all this stuff already? “Where were you before that?”

  “Sunnyvale. Before that, Stanford.” Her shoulders lifted and she glanced away.

  His gaze landed on the photo in the center of the top shelf. “Your parents must be proud of you.” It was a university graduation shot. They stood either side of her. All three were beaming at the camera. Straight-up happy.

  “I guess,” she answered vaguely, turning to face him. Her eyes had that aroused sheen. Liquid desire. “Can I get you a drink?” Her voice shook slightly.

  She didn’t want to talk? He could live with that for now. “Abbi.”

  Her chin lifted. He liked that. For all her concerns about performance, she was courageous.

  “Come here.” His voice had packed it in too, a bare rasp.

  She crossed the room to where he waited. Joe was used to women doing as he asked; frankly, they pretty much had from the moment he’d become sexually active. But for some reason, Abbi’s compliance satisfied him in a different way. Because giving in to her sensuality like this wasn’t usual for her. He knew she was both willing yet overthinking it at the same time. Unable to stop herself from analyzing and worrying, but unable to stop herself from responding. And those sparks in her eyes—that combo of defiance and self-consciousness and courage pushed him into being bossier than he’d ever been. He wanted to thrust past her boundaries, to take her beyond pleasure all the way to mindless ecstasy. To make her worry less and feel more, the way he had yesterday.

  Because knowing that he’d done that? That he’d been the only guy to see her like that? To feel her?

  That surge of satisfaction bubbled like molten lava. He wanted to do it again. Now.

  “Are you nervous? After yesterday?” he asked her, shaking his head at her insecurity.

  “Um…” She took an age to study his exceptionally plain T-shirt.

  “You ready for another lesson or are you having second thoughts?” he prompted.

  Her eyes flashed to his. Yeah. That got her attention.

  “I’m ready.”

  He’d gotten hard the second he’d heard the huskiness that entered her voice when things veered to the intimate. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, curious to see if she’d answer honestly. “You can tell me anything, remember.”

  He waited. But he knew he’d get an answer soon; she wasn’t quite as silent anymore.

  Her gaze didn’t waver, but the blue darkened. “What I want to do. What I want you to do.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured, lust roaring. “There’s the thing. The more you have, the more you want, the better it gets.” He meant sex in general, right? Except his body was in a riot, wanting only her.

  “You think you can do better than last night?”

  Now that unintentional compliment pleased him. “Reckon I can,” he mused. “But first.” He reached around her and tapped his fingers lightly down her spine. “There’s nothing like foreplay. Lots and lots of foreplay.”

  “What’s your favorite kind of foreplay?” she asked, rising up onto tiptoe.

  “Turns out I quite like messing around on first base,” he answered quietly.

  She reached her hand up, curling it around his neck and tugging so he bent. She kissed him, let her tongue swirl around his mouth before withdrawing with a suck on his lower lip and then a scrape of teeth.

  He was momentarily surprised by her forward action—but he wasn’t complaining. “Vixen,” he murmured. “I think you’ve been putting in some study time.”

  “You like it?” she asked breathlessly.

  “A lot. Do it again.”

  She did, lingering before she asked with a very pleased smile, “What else can I do for you?”

  He got it. She wanted to please him. Was she still not happy with the balance of orgasms? She wanted him to have more? He put on a thoughtful look, happy to humor her. For now. “What are you thinking?”

  And she was thinking again, clearly. Thinking way too much.

  “Massage?” she offered and immediately cringed. “Such a cliché, huh?”

  It bothered him that she thought he was going to shoot her down. “It’s a cliché for a reason. It feels good.” His body was aching for any kind of touch from her. Anything she wanted.

  “Okay.” A warmth lit her eyes. “You going to lie down?”

  “You going to strip?” he countered. “Massage should always be done naked.”

  “Oh really? You think the masseuse should be naked?”

  “Uh-huh.” He winked, enjoying her tease, glad she was learning that sex should always be this kind of fun. “That way if one of your nipples comes within touching distance while you’re leaning over me, I can suck on it. Or some other body part.”

  Her pupils flared but she held it together enough to adopt a thoughtful expression of her own. “Sounds sensible.”

  He held himself in as he watched her slip out of her cute tee-and-trouser combo. Damn, her breasts were magnificent—big, luscious, ripe. As for the narrow waist that flared to the feminine hips? Enough to bring a man to his knees. And she’d taken care to leave a small thatch of pubic hair for him to enjoy, like a little bow on that hot present of her sex. He couldn’t wait to dive into it.

  He ripped out of his clothes in record time, strode to the bed, and stretched out on her comforter. He was so tall his feet hung over the edge. She giggled at his predicament as she crawled onto the bed beside him, but that little laugh died as she glance
d up his body and saw the size of his aching cock.

  “Where do you want me to start?” she asked.

  Gritting his teeth, he rolled onto his stomach, offering his back, shifting to ease the awkwardness of his erection. Best to throttle back or he’d come in a nanosecond. So not happening. “I’m taking advantage of you, you realize.” Hell, he so was.

  “It’s my choice.”

  He looked back over his shoulder and saw her brush her hair back behind her, saw the determination, the small smile of confidence. She inhaled deeply and settled her hands on his back, gently running her palms over his muscles, which twitched at her ministrations. He inhaled, trying to ease up the edginess within. He wanted her hands all over him. Truth? He wanted to flip her over and fuck her right this second. But he fought to calm himself and give her a chance to explore. After all, he’d been lecturing on patience just the day before.

  He turned his head to the other side and focused on the corner of Abbi’s apartment. He saw something that looked like work papers next to an open bag filled with…

  No way.

  Chapter Eleven

  “But yes, ‘take charge’ and be a little bit aggressive—men like that best in bed.”

  “What’s this?”

  Oh dear Lord, she thought she’d hidden everything that might be remotely embarrassing. She’d spent a couple hours doing that last night after she’d been unable to sleep. The Lego collection had been the first to go—sorted in total OCD fashion into color, size, and set. Her 3-D printing gear had quickly followed suit.

  Now she watched as Joe reached out with his outrageously long arm and scooped up the bag she’d dropped by her bed on Saturday after getting home from the spontaneous shopping spree with Nadia. She’d been so busy trying to get her nerdy stuff off the table and hidden in the new baskets that she’d completely overlooked Nadia’s bag of test products sitting on the floor under the small bedside table.

  He chuckled and rolled onto his back to look up at her. “These are the sex toys from your desk at work.”

  She cleared her throat. “Possibly.”