Page 18 of Auction Time
After the sections were tricks of the bedroom, which was where I’d seen the blowjob lessons.
Section one was the gentle guy, section two was the explorer, and section three the rebel.
I was supposed to pick. I just didn’t know which I wanted. Did I want the gentle guy, the explorer, or the rebel?
I went for the rebel the first time without guidance. It was curiosity that made me flick to that section. I just wanted to see what it said.
My eyes glued to the top of the page as I started reading, completely sucked in just from the first few words:
The rebel will always be unpredictable. He’ll always try to surprise you and shock you. The chemistry between you is electrifying, as will be your lovemaking. Be prepared for wild, sexy fun and a lot of sleepless nights.
Your rebel will want to please you in every way, but expect him to do everything he can to make you feel he owns your body.
Make sure you please him too, so he knows he’s yours.
My God, I had to swallow hard.
That actually appealed to me. Big time. But seriously… I knew it would.
The idea of wild, sexy fun and a lot of sleepless nights was no bad thing. Neither was being pleased in every way possible.
Could I really have that though?
Didn’t I want a nice guy like the gentle guy? I flicked to that section and read the first paragraph.
Your gentle guy is a gentleman in every way. He’ll go with whatever guidance you give him on how you want to be touched. He’ll make love to you slowly, to soft, temperate music to enhance the romance and passion between you.
You can always count on him. Be careful of falling into boredom. This is the kind of guy who will rely on you too, so always come up with ideas to add spice to your lives.
Well… that was nice and kind of different. It was the safe option, unlike the rebel. Not as exciting though.
I practically jumped out of my skin when my doorbell rang.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
So, who could it be?
I set the book down and went to answer it, making the cardinal mistake most women made when they didn’t look through the peephole first. I just opened the door and welcomed the shock of seeing Cole standing on the doorstep with a bag of groceries.
“Wonderful. I like your hair like that.” He beamed and didn’t wait for an invitation before he stepped in and made his way to the kitchen with ease, like he’d been here hundreds of times before.
I didn’t even have the few seconds it would take to process the fact that he was here.
I went to the kitchen to see him laying out the groceries on the granite worktop and frowned.
“Cole?” I walked right up to him and set my hands on my hips.
“Yes, baby?” He looked at me with expectancy, as if this was really normal.
“What are you doing here? How did you even know where I live?” How did he know indeed? And back to the first question, whatwashe doing here?
“Catching up. This was my perfect idea,” he answered, tilting his head to the side and waving his hand over the food. “We can eat and talk.”
I blinked several times, trying to process the ridiculousness of what he was saying to me. And, he had the audacity to look at me as if it was me who’d gotten something wrong here.
I continued to stare, and for the millionth time this week I had that feeling of not knowing what the hell to say to him.
“Are you crazy? You can’t just come to my house with…”—I looked at the food he’d set out on the worktop. It was all fresh vegetables and pasta sheets—“food. You can’t come here with food like this.”
