Page 107 of Practice Makes Perfect
“Thedeliciousone! With the lines!” I wave my hands, trying to salvage my disastrous metaphor. “You know what, let’s just pretend I never said that. In fact, let’s never mention turkey again. It’s no longer on the menu. It’sdeadto us, like my dignity.”
He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement now, a full-bodied laugh escaping him. “You’re adorable.”
“I’m a disaster,” I correct him. But his laughter has cleared the last of my anxiety. This is good. This is right.
Taking a deep breath, I step fully into his bedroom, crossing that invisible boundary. Linc follows, clicking the door shut behind us. The sound feels definitive, like the period at the end of a sentence. We’ve been in his room before, but it feels different now.
“Thank you,” I say suddenly, turning to face him.
His brow furrows. “For what?”
“For being patient. For teaching me. For not being a dick when I freaked out.”
“Em—”
“No, I need to say this.” I take his hands in mine, drawing strength from the contact. “You could have just hooked up with someone else. Someone who didn’t come with my baggage. But you didn’t. And this—” I gesture between us, “—this is your reward.”
He smiles so warmly it melts me. “It’s not a reward system, Em. I’m with you because I want to be. Because I like who you are.”
“That’s nice.” I step closer, eliminating the space between us. “But I’m still going to rock your world as a thank you.”
His laugh gets muffled against my lips as I pull him down for a kiss, pouring all my pent-up desire into it. I can’t get enough, and my hands are everywhere—in his hair, on his shoulders,fumbling with the buttons of his shirt—while his body presses against mine, solid and reassuring.
We stumble toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and increasingly frantic kisses. I’m aware of my own urgency, my need to finally, finally have him inside me after weeks of lessons and teasing and building desire. I reach for the zipper of my dress, struggling to pull it down while keeping my lips locked on his.
Linc chuckles against my mouth, catching my hands as I fumble with the zipper. “Hey, no rush,” he murmurs. “I want you to savor this.”
He turns me around gently, his fingers replacing mine on my zipper. Unlike my frantic attempts, he takes his time, lowering it inch by inch. Each newly exposed section of my back receives a soft kiss, his lips tracing down my spine in a deliberate path that leaves goosebumps in their wake.
When the zipper reaches its end, he slips his hands inside the loosened fabric, sliding it off my shoulders. The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a black lace bra and matching underwear. I’d chosen them carefully, wanting to feel sexy and confident for this moment, and wanting to impress him.
Linc inhales sharply, his eyes traveling over me with an intensity that makes me feel simultaneously vulnerable and powerful. “You’re beautiful,” he says.
I reach for his shirt, unbuttoning it with steadier hands now. “Your turn, Professor.”
He laughs as he helps me, shrugging out of his shirt to revealthatchest. I run my hands over his muscles, tracing the definition with my fingertips. His skin is warm beneath my touch, smooth except for the light dusting of hair on his chest that narrows to a trail disappearing beneath his pants.
His lips find mine again, and the kiss deepens, tongues sliding together in a rhythm that’s become deliciously familiarover the past few weeks. His hands wander to my back, deftly unhooking my bra and sliding it down my arms. When my breasts are bare before him, he cups them reverently.
I’m lost in the sensation for a moment, then I remember that I’m on a mission.
A sexy, naked mission.
So, wearing only my panties and a playful smirk, I push against his chest. “Sit down, hockey boy.”
Surprise flashes across his face, but he backs up until his knees hit the edge of the bed, then sits. I stand between his legs, enjoying the way he has to look up at me. There’s something incredibly empowering about it, about the hunger in his eyes as they roam over my body.
“Tell me how much you want this,” I say, my voice thick with desire as I reach for his belt.
“So much that I’ll even watchSurvivorafterwards…” he replies with a teasing glint in his eye. “Believe me, you live in my head rent free.”
His admission makes my pulse race even faster and I unbuckle his belt with only slightly trembling fingers. “Oh?”
“Although it usually involveslesstalking andmore—” His words cut off as I yank open his jeans and slide my hand inside, finding him hard and ready.
“More what?” I ask innocently, though there’s nothing innocent about the way I’m stroking him through the thin fabric.
“Jesus, Em.” His head falls back slightly, throat working as he swallows. “More of exactly this.”
