Page 47 of Love Lessons
Still, it makes me realize I’m sitting here stalking my hookup’s clever ex-girlfriend. Like only a loser would do. I grab my phone and kill all the browser tabs. Then I hurry into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Maybe I should shave my legs again.
Or take another shower?
Would it take too much time to paint my toenails?
Do men notice toenails?
Wait—are foot fetishes real?
You’re getting off topic, my inner voice snaps.It doesn’t matter what you do, because Ian has already forgotten you’re up here.
There’s that. But just in case, I’m brushing my hair for the third time when I hear the door to Ian’s room open. “Hello? Anybody call for room service?” I hear him call in a teasing voice.
And I say… nothing.
Brilliant, my inner voice says.Keep up the good work.
“H-hi?” I squeak. Then I make an effort to pull myself together. I straighten my spine and set the brush down on the counter. “In here.” I reach for the door that leads to his room and open it.
And there he is, his shirt sleeves rolled up onto those strong forearms. He’s holding a scotch glass in each hand. “Hey, lady.”
“Hey,” I manage.
“You like scotch?”
“Not, um, much?”
My inner critic just rolls her eyes.
“No problem,” he says, striding right past me, thorough the bathroom and into my bedroom. “I’m not really in the mood for more scotch either.”
“You’re not?”
“Nah.” He sets both glasses down on the windowsill. Then he turns around, takes me by both shoulders and takes my mouth in a hungry kiss.
I’m startled, but only for a moment. This is good. No, this isgreat. Now I don’t even have to make small talk. Instead, I wrap my arms around him and tilt my chin up, like an Italian sunflower reaching toward the light.
And maybe Idolike scotch, because Ian tastes of dark, peaty liquor and pure man. His broad hand cups the back of my head as he takes control of another kiss.
Okay. Wow. Yup. Kissing Ian Crikey is my new favorite thing. It’s intense, like he is. But it’s also surprisingly playful, the way he nips my lower lip and then smooths it with his tongue. The way he smiles as he tilts his head the other way and draws me nearer.
I got this. I can do this. My bravado holds steady even as he steers me toward the bed. He pulls us both down, and I land on top of him. It’s getting real. Hot kisses on the terrace are one thing, but now we’re horizontal. Which means we’re inching closer to the moment when he realizes I’m a disaster.
Ian rolls us to the side, and I catch a glimpse of his smile before he kisses me again.
That’s what keeps me going—that smile. It’s rare on him. So I must be doing something right. My hands fumble for his shirt buttons. My fingers are shaking a little as they brush against the thick fabric.
Thisisa kickass shirt. I do have my talents. The first button is undone, and I scramble onward to the second. His chest is a work of art, so I hurry to reveal it.
“Get it, girl,” he says in a low, teasing voice. “Can I take this dress off you? I’ve been wanting to do that for hours.”
“Yes! Good idea.”
He chuckles. Then clever fingers work the zipper down my back. The metallic whine it makes is wonderfully sexy. It’s the sound of boundaries crossed.
A rush of cool air hits my skin. When he lifts the dress over my head, I suddenly feel very naked in my camisole and panties.
