“What was the bet?”
“Uh, so I can’t go into the details.”
Which meant Nolan probably didn’t want to know them.
“At least you didn’t end up with ‘asshole’ inked on your ass in Chinese,” he said, referencing a bet Brax had lost to Jerry in their Blackstone House days. “You think Jez really didn’t know what those symbols meant?”
She’d always sworn the tattoo artist said it meant “strong,” and Brax had only found out the true meaning when he hooked up with a Chinese girl who’d just about died laughing.
Alexa snorted. “Of course she knew.”
“Glad I never lost a bet with her, although I can’t say I hate the jellyfish.”
“You should—it’s an Irukandji. The tattoo is life-size, and it can kill a man in minutes.”
“Your spirit animal?” Nolan joked.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasised about dumping a bunch of them in Uncle Porter’s swimming pool. But chlorinated water would kill them, so it would be quite the logistical challenge. We’d have to engineer him into hiring a new pool guy and install a system for salt electrolysis, plus his pool’s the wrong shape for jellyfish. They need a Kreisel tank—one that maintains a smooth, circular flow to stop them from bumping into the walls, because they’re basically just a sack of water that can break really easily, and?—”
“Alexa?” Nolan wasn’t sure whether to be proud or horrified about how much she’d thought this through.
“Yes?”
“Stop talking.”
She gasped as he ran his tongue through her folds, and her hands balled at her sides. Tense, so tense. And when he circled her clit, she gave a little yelp that could have been shock or pleasure, but she didn’t tell him to stop.
So he kept going. It was up to him to show her that not all sex was dirty, that not every man brought horror and heartache. Alexa was a natural pessimist—she’d gone into this assuming it would be disappointing at best and downright unpleasant at worst, and he was determined to prove her wrong. No pressure.
She’d never mentioned her likes or dislikes, and he wasn’t sure she even knew. This was a voyage of discovery for both of them. He picked up on the cues she offered, the quiet whimpers, the way her breathing sped up when he hit the right spot. Her hands relaxed, then she forgot she was supposed to hate sex and tangled them in his hair. He tasted her wetness as her body betrayed her mind. Those slim hips began bucking, thrusting up to meet his tongue, and he paused.
Kissed his way up her body.
Waited for the fireworks.
He got them.
“What? Why’d you stop?”
“Just enjoying the prospect of you eating your words. You still want to get it over with?”
“No. Yes! I don’t freaking know. Go back to whatever you were doing.”
“So you like it now?”
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, and she made a choking sound.
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you didn’t answer the question.”
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
He moved to the other breast.
“Fine! I like it, okay? Do that thing with your tongue again.”
Alexa was close to the edge, and it didn’t take much to push her over it. Her back arched as she came with a strangled cry, curses dripping from her lips, her eyes screwed shut, her breathing heavy. She was trembling as Nolan leaned over her and brushed hair away from her face.
