Page 95 of Holiday Love
“Yes, I can.” She folds her arms, mock glare in place. “Your exam isn’t going to pass itself.”
I pinch the practice exam between two fingers and hold it away like it’s radioactive. “What’s my incentive? Because right now all I see are a bunch of multiple-choice questions standing between me and your mouth.”
She pauses, lips pressing together like she’s calculating odds, then her eyes flash. A slow, sly grin spreads across her face. “How about we make it interesting?”
That spark in her voice has me sitting up straight. I lean closer. “Go on.”
“For every question you get right…,” she says, sliding a finger beneath the hem of her tank top and tugging it just high enough to show smooth, tempting skin, “…I take something off.”
My breath catches. Heat pools low in my stomach. “Strip studying?”
She nods, her lips curving into a devious smirk. “Exactly.”
“What if I get it wrong?”
“You lose something.” Her eyes flick deliberately to the waistband of my boxers.
I glance down at myself, then back at her. “Not fair,” I protest. “All I’ve got on is boxers. You’re in shorts, a tank top, a bra, underwear, and socks. You’re basically bulletproof.”
An impish smile curves her lips. “Guess you better not miss any questions.” She arches her brow and lifts her shirt again, this time high enough that I get a peek of lacy black bra.
“Suddenly I’m feelingverymotivated.” I snatch a pencil off the nightstand and grin. “Either way, I win.”
“Not if you flunk the exam.”
Her reminder slices through the heat and humor, sobering me.Shit. I’m defaulting, sliding back into old Teddy. The one who knew what heshoulddo but did whatever hewantedto.
That Teddy won’t last here. He won’t be able to keep a woman like Helen.
Which means he has to go.
“Okay, Dr. Chu, game on,” I say in my best evil villain impersonation.
She smiles back, pleased. Wasting no time, she shuffles the packet and clears her throat. “Question one,” she says. “A boat travels 30 miles in 2 hours. What’s its average speed?”
I frown, thinking, lips pursed in a way that makes Helen stare at them. “Fifteen miles per hour.”
Helen sighs dramatically, peeling her socks off one by one. “Correct.”
“Wow, cotton, so hot,” I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes.
She flings her socks at me, and I bat them away, laughing.
“Don’t get cocky,” she warns.
“Too late.” I point to the erection that already tents my boxers.
She snorts and asks, “Seriously? We just started.”
I hold my hands up, the picture of innocence. “I can’t help it. It’s a medical condition, Helen. I get turned on every time you walk in the room.”
Her lips twitch, but she refuses to comment. Instead, she flips to the next page with forced seriousness. “The hypotenuse of a right triangle…”
“Oh, come on,” I groan. “More math? You’re evil.” I squint, thinking. “Pythagorean theorem. A squared plus B squared equals C squared.”
Helen’s jaw drops. “Correct.”
“Ha!” I point at her tank top. “That’s mine.”
