Page 13 of Perfectly Naïve
“First of all, we’re not doing ass stuff for your first lesson. Second of all, don’t you dare bleach that asshole.”
“Okay, but do I shave it?”
“Oh my god,” he says, voice strained.
Great. I haven’t made it to session one, and I’m already failing. Sawyer doesn’t speak for a few moments, and I wonder if he’s decided I’m not worth the trouble. “I’m sorry.”
“Liv, babe, what are you sorry for?”
The nickname caresses my skin, making my heart flutter. Wow. “Because I should already know what to do.”
He releases a breath. “Here’s what I think. Anyone who demands you bleach or shave your asshole is...an asshole. You decide what to do with your body, but you don’t need todo any of those things. Trust me, plenty of guys would be happy with you just the way you are.”
My cheeks are so warm. “I don’t know about that.” The last few dates I’ve gone on have been massive failures. The most recent, the worst. They wanted me to be someone I’m not.
Still, I don’t want to settle or change for a pack. Surely there’s one out there who will love me as I am.
“Try not to overthink it. Okay? Sunday will be low pressure.”
I chew on my cheek. Maybe low pressure for him, but he’s undoubtedly had sex. What does a guy who’s had sex before expect? I eye my laptop, an idea sparking.
“Liv?”
“I’ll see you soon,” I say in a rush, hanging up and flipping the laptop open.
A few things I’ve learned while watching more porn than anyone has a right to watch in a twenty-four-hour period.
One: they definitely bleach their assholes.
Two: knots are big and terrifying.
Three: an omega’s heat is possibly the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.
Four: I’m not even close to prepared to do this with Sawyer.
Even still, I slip into the babydoll dress I ordered, covering the slinky lingerie I bought as well. Although I’m not nearly as done up as some of those porn stars, I admit, I look good. I’ve swept my hair up into a loose ponytail, letting the front pieces frame my face. I’m too embarrassed to let my mom see what I’m wearing, let alone Nigel, so I tug on a knee-length peacoat and place the four-inch heelsin an oversized purse. I’ll put those on once I get to Sawyer’s.
Adding in my water bottle and a bag of my favorite popcorn, I hurry down the stairs, thankfully avoiding my parents, and dash to where Nigel is waiting with the back door open. “Hey, Nig!”
“Evening, Livvy. Where are we off to?”
I rattle off the address, avoid his questioning gaze, and settle into my seat.
Nigel hesitates at the door but ultimately closes it and rounds the car, sliding into his seat. “How is Sawyer?”
Mortification burns my cheeks. “Fine. He’s fine. We’re just hanging out.”
Nigel hums. “Well, be sure to tell him I say hello.”
“Sounds good.” I yank out my phone and pretend to be absorbed in scrolling. Nigel doesn’t probe into what exactly I’m up to, and for that, I’m glad. I don’t know how many lies I could tell him.
When we arrive at Sawyer’s, he helps me out of the car, looking around with a guarded gaze. The neighborhood is cute. Nothing like where I grew up, but I kind of prefer it. The lawns aren’t perfect. The houses, while smaller, are charming. Here, it’s not about showing off your money. It’s about living. Mom could have used a little more of that and a little less of flaunting her cash.
She would have hated my flat in London.
Nigel clears his throat. “Are you going to stand there and gawk all day?”
“Was I gawking?”
