He points at me. “It’s ‘peppy loon’ to you.”
“Come here, you peppy loon.”
He comes inside, leaving the patio door open, and takes my hand. I pull him into a hug and kiss him.
“Thank fuck,” he says. “I was starting to worry that you’d changed your mind about kissing guys.”
“I haven’t changed my mind about kissing you.”
He runs his hand through my hair. “That’s good. You’re a good kisser.”
Our mouths meet again. Our grip tightens on one another. We press our bodies together as our lips caress and our tongues dance. In a fit of boldness, I tug his T-shirt up and slide my hand down the back of his jeans so I can squeeze his arse cheek through his underwear.
“Well, hello to you too,” Kian whispers. “That’s a nice greeting.”
I look away. “Sorry about earlier.”
He narrows his eyes. “No. You’ve lost me. Earlier?”
“You tried to kiss me and—”
He puts his forefinger against my lips. “You’re not ready for public displays of affection with a guy. That’s cool.”
“It is?”
“Yes.”
I stare at him, unsure what to say.
He pecks my lips. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Well, you’ve still got your hand down my jeans, so I’m taking that as a sign you want to get sexy. Plus, you invited me over to help you relax.”
My stomach flip-flops. The doubts creep back in.
He bunches my shirt in his fist and drags my mouth to his for another kiss. “The question is, do you want to practice or learn something new?”
I shiver. “I want to—” I slide my hand out of Kian’s jeans. I can’t shake the nagging thought that I’m using him.
“What’s wrong?”
I lean my forehead against his. “Are you sure this is okay?”
He strokes my face. “Yes, Jett. I’m sure. One hundred and ten per cent sure.”
I chuckle. “Only one hundred and ten?”
“Would it make you feel better if I said two hundred per cent?”
“A little.”
“If you still want to experiment with being with a guy, I’d like to be the one you do it with. If you’ve changed your mind, that’s cool. Just tell me. But if you’re still curious and want to try the things you’re intrigued about, then I’m your guy.” He gives me a slow, soft kiss. “I’m a good teacher, remember?”
“And modest.”
“Eh, modesty is overrated. Stop worrying about using me. You’re not. I want to be here. I know what the deal is. I’m flattered you let me be the first guy you did anything with.” He kisses me again, this time with so much passion the blood rushes through my veins and pound in my ears. “Tell me what you want to do, Jett.”
