Page 7 of Pleasure Lessons

“What is this from?”

I feel his heartrate leap through his chest. “Barbed wire,” he says. “When I was seventeen.”

“Were you…a bad boy when you were young?”

He twists his lips and flexes his hands, as though he’s angry with me.

“You shouldn’t be touching me like this,” he says, his voice low and tense.

“You’ve already touched me,” I counter. “Besides, I’m just curious.”

He takes a step back, reaching for his shirt. My heart sinks as he slips it on, concealing his Adonis physique from me.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says. “I was just getting in a workout–”

“What do men want in a wife, Rhett?” I ask. He freezes. “Because it seems like Arthur just wantsme. You know what I mean?”

He closes his eyes. “Not this again, Cassandra. Don’t ask me this. I–I can’t give you the answer you want.”

“Yes you can, Rhett. Who else will teach me? The men in my books?”

He opens his eyes again and turns them to me. They’re blazing with energy. “You’re barely legal, Cassandra.”

“Yes, but Iameighteen, Rhett.”

He growls and looks down. “And you’re his.”

That’s it. He’s worried about Arthur. It makes sense. Arthur is the one paying him to give me my lessons. Arthur is a rich and powerful man. That’s why my father is having me marry him.

“Not by choice.”

He looks up, shocked by my answer. He had no idea about the arrangement. And why would he?

My thighs are slippery with arousal and squeeze together as I remember how he guided my hip during our lesson, correcting my stance when returning a serve.

“I’m yours if you want me.”

A savage sound erupts from his throat, and he turns away from me, tearing at the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t even know what you’re saying, Cassandra.”

“I know what Ifeel,” I reply. “You’re all I think about between lessons, Rhett. I even picture you in my romance novels when I’m reading.”

He shakes his head angrily, then turns back to me, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “You think you’re the only one? Huh? You think I don’t want to touch you? I wake up hard as a rock after dreaming of you. I jerk off in the shower while I whisper your name. I dream about you–your smooth skin, your lips, what your body looks like beneath that short skirt and Polo.”

A quiet murmur falls from my lips as my jaw drops. “Rhett…”

“I hear your innocent little voice asking me what a man wants from his wife, and I’m going out of my goddamn mind.” He steps forward, dangerously close. I feel the heat emanating from his body. “But I can’t touch you, Cassandra.”

“W–why not?”

He drags his eyes down my body and back up again, studying every inch. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to stop myself. There will be no going back. For either of us.”

My lips tremble as I stare back at him. Those gorgeous eyes and the sharp lines of his gorgeous face. “What am I going back to?” I ask, pointing to the manor. “Him?”

His eyes flick to the house then back to me. I see understanding in them, like he finally understands my position. And then slowly, he reaches out and brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“That shouldn’t be there,” he growls darkly.

“What? My hair?”

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