Page 15 of The Love Playbook

Jackson breaks away from our sexy staring contest first, blinking and looking at the waitress. “It’s alright,” he reassures her. “But I’m ready to order.” He looks at me, his color rising slightly as he meets my eyes. “Are you?”

Biting back a smile, I nod. “Yes. I’ll have the mushroom ravioli.”

“Anything else to drink?”

“Just water’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Jackson asks. “This is my treat. You can get a drink if you want.”

He’s planning on paying for me? I wasn’t entirely expecting that, since I made him take me out. Good for him, though, for taking initiative here. “Really, I just want water. Thank you, though.”

He orders his dish and also sticks with water. I guess that makes sense, given he has a meal plan to stick to, especially during the season.

The waitress leaves, and Jackson returns his gaze to me. Then looks away, taking a sip of his water.

“Uh oh,” I murmur. “Did things just shift from comfortable to awkward? What’s happening?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, his usual response to me it seems. Most of the time he’s pretty quiet, only commenting when he actually has something to say, never just talking for the sake of filling the silence or to hear the sound of his own voice. It’s one of his more attractive qualities, in my opinion.

But with me, he seems to find me endlessly entertaining. Or shocking. Maybe both. I’m typically pretty forward, especially with guys I like. I’ve never felt the need to play coy. Well, for a little while as a teenager I tried it out, but I found it exhausting, and the kinds of guys who go for girls who play those games are not the ones I want to spend my time with.

Maybe because those guys are too much like me. I hadn’t actually thought of that before. But those guys like the challenge and thrill of getting a shy little good girl to open up, and here I am basically doing the same thing to Jackson. He’s a challenge. A virgin. And I’m dying to crack him open and show him everything.

And while he might be nervous, he hasn’t seemed actually opposed to the idea. Even if he stammered and stuttered when asked how far he wanted to go, he didn’t actually say he didn’t want to do anything in particular. We will of course have to revisit that conversation, but I’d like to keep tonight more relaxed than our coffee shop meeting where I quizzed him on all sorts of things.

Not only is he a virgin, his experience is almost entirely non-existent. He’s like a blank canvas. And I can turn him into the perfect lover.

For you… whispers a voice in the back of my head. And yeah, that’s true. I’ll definitely be guiding him on all of my own personal preferences. But it’s not like I’m into anything super extreme—kissing, oral, penetration. Pretty standard stuff, really. And if he gets used to observing and listening to me and how my body reacts, those skills are transferable, even if the specific way I like my pussy licked is personal.

He gives me his shy smile. “Do you find silence awkward?”

I shift in my seat, leaning my chin on my hand again. “Not specifically. Some silences are awkward. But they don’t have to be. Especially with the right people.”

Nodding, he leans his elbow on the table. “I agree. Lots of people like to fill the silence because they’re afraid of things being awkward. I don’t mind silence. And maybe I’m always awkward, because I’ve never found silence more awkward than any other time.”

The smile on my face grows as he speaks. “Good to know. I try not to fill silence with nonsense or inane conversation. But sometimes when I’m nervous I start to say anything and everything that comes into my head.”

He tilts his head to the side, his lips curving, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Jackson this relaxed with me. “There are things that make you nervous? I’d like to see that sometime.”

A laugh splutters out of me. “You want to see me nervous?”

His grin grows wider. “Yes. You always seem so unflappable and in control. It would be reassuring to see that you get nervous and out of sorts sometimes too. What kinds of things make you nervous?”

Laughing, I reach for my water. “Bees. Well, wasps to be specific.”

“Wasps make you babble?” His disbelief is clear.

“Kinda, yeah. I start talking about how there’s a wasp and I hope it doesn’t sting me and where can we go to get away from it and why did we think that being where wasps are was a good idea? And can I go back inside? Does anyone have wasp spray? Where’s the nest? Let’s kill the nest. Kill them all so they can’t get me.”

Jackson’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and one of his big hands covers his mouth. He has very nice hands. And I can imagine him being very good with them.

A shiver of desire skates down my spine, desire pooling low in my belly. I need to not let those thoughts run away with me, though. Not tonight, anyway.

“I’m glad my dislike of wasps is so entertaining for you,” I murmur before sipping my water.

“Were you stung a bunch as a kid or something?”

“No.” I set my glass back down. “Once, I think, when I was about four. I was on the swing set in the back yard and a yellowjacket stung the back of my leg. Apparently they’d found a hole in the swing set frame and built a nest in there.”

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