Her shoes were exactly where she’d kicked them off when she walked in the door and I noticed a bra slung over the arm of the couch. “Getting comfy, I see,” I said, slipping my finger under one strap and lifting it up. The blue lace and satin hung from my fingertips and I couldn’t help but grin.
“Omigod,” she said as her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. She quickly grabbed it from my hand and tossed it down the hallway to what I assume was her bedroom. “How embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” I said, walking over to her and placing my hands on her hips. “One less obstacle,” I grinned before leaning my head down to hers. “Just think of how much easier it’s going to be for me with nothing underneath this t-shirt,” I said, resting my forehead against hers. I trailed one hand down her back. Her eyes fell shut as she practically melted under my touch. The slight wobble in her knees said that she enjoyed my touch as much as I enjoyed touching her. She grabbed on to my arms for support and I relished the feel of the bite of her fingertips against my skin. An excited gasp escaped her lips as I took her mouth with mine. God, she tasted good. Maybe I could kiss away some of her worries. Some of my worries. I could have taken her straight into the bedroom, or at the very least tried for a do-over on the sofa, but it was going to have to wait. Slowly, tenderly, I broke our kiss, much to both of our dismays.
“Hey now,” she said. “You can’t come in, kiss me like that, and then just stop.”
“Actually,” I replied, slipping my hand into hers and pulling her toward the couch. “I can... because we have some studying to do.”
“We have some studying to do?” she said, skeptically eying me as she twisted the lid off her Coke.
“Yep,” I said with a nod of my head as I took a seat. She joined me, despite disbelieving that I was actually serious. “You said you had a big test,” I explained, looking over her scattering of papers for notes or some sort of study guide. There had to be something there that I could quiz her on. The terminology on the sheets in front of me looked like a foreign language. Good thing I was a fast learner. I could adapt to different tires, different tracks, different competitors, surely I could manage senior year nursing school. I might have been a gear head, but I wasn’t stupid. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent tutor.”
“I hope so. I need all the help I can get.” Casually, she brought the Coke bottle to her lips and what I witnessed next had me squirming in my seat. The way her lips wrapped around the top of that bottle and the way her neck and throat constricted as she took a drink might have been the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. She moaned quietly as her eyes fell shut. I felt a rush of heat surge through my body.
“You’ll be fine,” I assured her, not able to take my eyes off of her. Her empty hand fell across her chest like she was checking to see just how fast her heart was beating. Mine was quickly picking up itself.
“This is so good,” she said, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “I forget just how good it tastes,” she practically moaned. “So refreshing. So bubbly. I could drink it all night long.” I could feel myself getting hard and I had to keep myself from suggesting something else we could do all night long. I was there to be with her, yes, but I’d promised to help her study.
Flushed cheeks and that sultry look in her eyes were all from drinking a Coke? I couldn’t stop myself from thinking how she’d look after really being satisfied. This study session was going to be torture if I had to watch her drink herself practically to orgasm the rest of the night. “Thank you so much for bringing this,” she said, untwisting the cap once more. Even the way her fingers fit around the bottle was sexy—her grip firm as she moved it to her lips. My imagination was having a hard time not creating her doing the exact thing with my dick.
“We’ve got a lot to cover,” I said after I cleared my throat and tried to get my head back to the right place. “By the time we are finished you will know,” I closed the open book on her coffee table to read the title, “all about Molecular Pathology.” She wouldn’t be the only one learning something new tonight. I had no idea what either of those words even meant. Science had never really been my strong suit. I took the Coke bottle from her hand—nearly having to pry it from her grasp. “No more drinks until we’ve covered at least the first page of the study guide,” I reasoned, more for my own sanity than hers. If I had to watch her foreplay with the Coke bottle any longer I wasn’t going to make it through the first question of the study guide, let alone the full twenty pages of it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. I shook my head and reached out my hand so she could give me the stack of note cards she was holding. Questions were written out on the front. I was happy to see the multi-syllabic answers scrawled across the backs.
“I do,” I said, taking the cards from her hands. “You help me, I help you.” I wasn’t expecting her to be so taken by my response, so when she leaned in and wrapped her arms around my neck in an honest-to-God hug of gratitude, I found myself a little choked up. These were the moments I wanted with her. I wanted more of them. I wanted all of them. I wanted to be with her and not in some casual, fleeting way.
I hoped that she was feeling the same. I’d said I wanted to see all the sides of her and she was finally letting me see them. Maybe she was opening the door for more between us. The overworked, understudied, nervous trainwreck of a girl was letting me help her. If we didn’t have hours of molecules and genetics ahead of us I would have just held her in my arms all night—after giving her multiple orgasms if she’d let me. The hesitation in her eyes as she leaned away from me had me wanting to toss the note cards on the floor and kiss her again. It would have to wait. I knew how important her studies were to her. I knew when it was time to focus. “Besides, I need something other than my pitiful ass to concentrate on,” I added, needing something to distract me from tasting her.
“Are you wallowing?”
“Maybe a little.” I admitted. My PT hadn’t really been stellar that day. “I just feel like I should be further along. I was hoping to be able to do more.”
“It’s been six weeks. I’d say you’re doing pretty good,” she said. “I’ve seen people in way worse shape than you six weeks after surgery.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She smiled. “You’re Brett Sallinger,” she reminded me with a laugh. “You’ll be just fine.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. It was nice to hear that she believed in me. I was bound to have moments of self-doubt. As I looked at her giving me a pep talk, I felt stupid. Here I was, acting like a big damn baby when this girl had been through the wringer. I could learn a lot from her about resilience. “Is it hard being so damn perfect all the time?” I teased. Kind of. I’d yet to find something I didn’t love about her.
W ho was this guy?
If anyone would have told me three months ago that Brett Sallinger would be quizzing me on genetic research and therapy I would have said they were out of their mind. That guy was all dirt and no handed motocross tricks, but this guy…this guy sitting in front me trying his damnedest to pronounce words that some brain surgeons couldn’t even pronounce, now he was something special. And not too bad to look at either. The sexy way he grinned when I answered a question correctly had me straining my brain. Between cards and questions, he didn’t miss an opportunity to tell me how great I was doing or reach over and pat me on the leg. The sexy thoughts I had running through my head were about as far from genetics as you could get. The only genetic makeup I was grateful for at that moment was his.