Page 74 of Time To Learn

“Hmm…”

I don’t like the sound of thathmm.

“Kristian?” I squeak as the nerves flare up again.

“Calm down, please. I’d never dream of divulging any of your secrets.”

The butterflies settle down, and I breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, what time do you wantme?”

I bite my tongue at the thoughtless choice of words.

The sound of Kristian clearing his throat does funny things to my insides.

“How about eight-ish?”

“That’s good with me.” I suppress a yawn and then murmur, “I think I’ll turn in now. Goodnight, Kristian.”

“Goodnight, Laura. I’m…” As he hesitates, my fingers flex, tightening their hold on my phone. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Me, too.”

As I end the phone call, I fall back on my bed. My body is buzzing, excited and anxious about getting my first tattoo sooner than I’d planned, but that’s not the only reason.

Kristian’s voice so close to my ear…gosh, that guy could sell phone sex, and I’d be a frequent customer. Warmth rushes through my body, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to ignore the low throbbing between my legs. Nor do I really wantto.

Ugh.

I rub my face, my cheeks flaming, and wet my lips as I open the drawer of my nightstand. My hand sneaks inside, and I sigh softly when I feel the rubbery texture of the bullet.

Looks like it will be getting another workout tonight.

* * *

“I’m notsure I can do this,” I whisper as nausea setsin.

We’re parked in my Beetle outside the tattoo shop, and my body is locked in place.

I’m frozen.

Completely scared out of mymind.

I was fine on the drive here, enjoying our quiet conversation, but now, I feel as if I have to throwup.

“Laura? Come on, look at me, please.”

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But as if they have a mind of their own, my eyes flit across Kristian’s face. I swallow the lump in my throat at the concern staring back at me. He’s clean shaven for once, his hair still damp from his shower, and if I was anybody else, I’d try to distract myself by kissing him senselessnow.

But I’m not. I’m old. Ugly. Scarred.

Pathetic.

He makes my mouth water, and the longer I sit here, staring at him, the worse it gets. The urge to give in to what I want grows stronger by the day. It’s absurd—I’m acting like a twenty-year-old instead of the mature, sensible, thirty-three-year-old woman that Iam.

“If you’re scared, I won’t put any pressure on you.” His words make my eyes flit back to him. There’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze, and I feel as if I’m melting. “I never want you to think you can’t back down or change your mind when you’re with me, okay?” he continues.

I nod slowly. Somehow, it feels like he’s not talking about the tattoo.