Our smiles rise together.
"First--, you lead. You are in control. We're gonna take this one step at a time, and at your pace. You will initiate unless it's a lesson we've already agreed to. And if you want to stop, we stop. We can have a code word, if you want. Like…rain check."
I giggle, writing downrain checkreal big and underlining it. "Could we have one for, um, initiation? Like, if I want to…you know. Fool around, or whatever. Maybe,Put me in, coach."
This time his laugh is more of a snort.
"And if you're down," I continue, "You could answer,Batter up."
And I earn a bark of laughter, his face tilted up and Adam's apple bobbing. "Christ, peaches. All right. That works for me. I think we take it by the classic bases for steps, but I'll fudge it a little. First--, kissing. Second base--, touch. Third--, oral. Home--, sex." He says it so clinically. Meanwhile, my cheeks flame. "We'll go as far as you want, at whatever pace you want. Like I said--, you're in charge."
When I realize he's waiting for my approval, I say, "Okay. When do we start?"
He grabs the seat of my chair and pulls me toward him. "Now." One gruff, rumbling word, underscored by a new heat, this one crackling like a live wire between us. "If you want," he adds when I'm nearly in his lap.
"I want," I breathe, tossing my pad and pen blindly onto the table. My eyes haven't left his.
Grey watches his hand as he moves my hair back on one side, his knuckles grazing my cheek. "Last rule," he says gently. "If I think you're in too deep, I call a time out. Will you respect that?"
"Uh-huh." I nod stupidly, pretty sure I shouldn't be making any major decisions right now. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my heart issues a muffled warning, something about what happens if we fall for each other, but the thought is so ludicrous, my brain smothers it with a pillow.
Because at the moment, I cannot find one single brain cell that gives a fuck.
His legs are spread, the seats of our chairs touching, my legs still pulled in, knees up. With those gargantuan hands of his,he cups my calves and pulls with perfect certainty, dragging me nearly into his lap, slinging my thighs over his.
We haven't even kissed, and this is the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.
"Kissing 101," he says, smirking.
"Wait--should I get my pen?" I ask quietly.
"No. I want your full and undivided attention." Again, he's brushing my hair back, but now it feels like an excuse to stroke my jaw, my neck, my cheek.
I'm nodding like a dummy. "Okie dokie."
"Kissing's not all that complicated," he begins, and I watch his lips shape every word, mesmerized. "But there's a trick to it. It's not about skill--it's about paying attention. Matching. Don't rush…listen to yourself. And then give yourself over to it."
We've gotten closer somehow. I don't know when it happened, but his breath brushes my lips, the heat of his body mingling with mine.
"What do I do with my hands?"
Grey reaches for my wrists and guides my hands to his chest. "Whatever you want. Do what feels good."
His tee is soft beneath my hands, and I can feel his heart beating hard. I skate my hands down his pecs, his rock-hard nipples tight beneath my fingertips. Goosebumps race up my arms.
"Angle like this." He cups my jaw with both hands, tilting my face. "Otherwise you'll smash noses. Get close, close enough to feel each other's breath." For a second, we wait there, his fingertips shifting against my neck. He's too close to see, so I close my eyes and memorize the feeling of every place we touch, starting with my hands, still skating across his chest slowly, the hammer of his heart vibrating into my fingertips. "Follow me," he whispers against my mouth. My stomach drops.
Anywhere.
He draws a breath that pulls me closer, his hands firm and tender, holding my face like a sacred thing, the stretch of silence unbearable until--
A shock of softness, and the world narrows--no sound, no motion, just pressure and heat andGrey. His lips are hot and pliant, gentle.
Polite.
He pulls away, and I almost fall into him, my lips chasing his.
My eyes blink open to find him watching me. He's conflicted, some war waging behind his eyes. And I am unabashedly pouting.
