His eyes darken at my admission, and he licks his lips, a smile tugging at the corners. “Have you thought about me while you flick it?” His words are harsh, but his voice is low and full of need. He cocks his eyebrow as he waits for my answer. I glance down to see him straining against his loose shorts.
I’m trying so hard to keep myself planted in my seat. I want to see everything that’s hiding under his shorts. I grip the corners with such force, I’m surprised the wood hasn’t splintered under my fingers. My voice won’t work, so I nod instead. His smile grows wider before he changes the subject.
“Sex is just as much about giving as receiving. I want you to feel good, but I want you to make me feel good, too,” he says, popping a chip in his mouth. “If I can get you off, you’re going to practically be begging to get me off.” He’s eighteen. What eighteen-year-old even thinks like this?
“Don’t most people take what they want and don’t care about what the other person wants?”
He shakes his head and tries to hide his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, maybe if the guy’s an asshole. If he does that, run away. I’d never leave my girl hanging just so I could get off.”
I push my plate away and rest my cheek on my hand. “Why?”
“Seriously?” He asks it like I slapped him across the face. “Because he doesn’t care about you or your needs if he does that.” His face gets serious. “Lana, don’t settle. You’re better than that. You deserve better than that.”
“How do you know all this?”I have to know how he became a sex guru.
He sighs and leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. His face hardens as he speaks. “Kasey always wanted the best of everything—that included sex. She sent me enough reading material when we first started to make sure I was well versed.” He huffs a laugh. “I guess that’s one good thing I got from that relationship.”
That is the sort of thing I would read in one of my books or even see in a movie. What guy cares enough about his girl, as a teenager, to read about the dos and don’ts of sex? I smile inwardly when the answer crosses my mind.Tristan would. He’s so damned caring and wants those around him to be happy.
Images of Joe flash through my mind. Would he make me orgasm, or would he make me get him off and be done? Honestly… I bet he’d only worry about himself. I sink down in my seat a little, my shoulders hunching forward as the thought sinks in.
As if Tristan can read my mind, he leans forward and places a sweet feather-like kiss to my lips. My breath catches in my throat. “You always taste so good,” he murmurs against me.
“So do you.”
We hear the key slide into the door and jump apart like electricity zapped us both. We’ve been done eating for a while, but the food is still out, and our plates are still sitting in front of us. Mom and Dad come into the room and smile at us.
“How was dinner?” she asks, unaware of our conversations.
“Good,” I say nonchalantly, not breaking eye contact with Tristan.
He stands and stretches, his shirt lifting up to show a bit of his toned abs. I resist the urge to run my finger down and feel him. I may not have seen what he’s packing with my own eyes, but I know it’s a hell of a lot.How the hell is he going to fit in me?
The thought of Tristan and everything he has below the belt makes me blush. As if he knows what I’m thinking, he smirks and gives me a subtle shake of his head. I smile shyly up at him, knowing I’ve been caught.
“Stay off your ankle the rest of the night, but it’s looking better. Don’t forget, Molly said to meet her by the pond tomorrow morning after breakfast.” I turn my head to the side a fraction and scrunch my face. His look softens, and he gives me a subtle nod of his head.Oh!It’s his way of not tipping off my parents.
“We need you better for line dancing tomorrow night.” He turns to my parents. “Some of the people from town show up. It’s a good time. Are you going to learn the dance tomorrow?”
My mom blushes a little. She loves dancing but complains of having two left feet. “That could be fun. What time?”
“Class is at two in the afternoon. Party starts at six. We have a local bluegrass band,Fiddlin’ Fools,that are coming out to play for you folks.”
He packs up the rest of the untouched food and plates and carries them out as he wishes us all a good night. I have so many unanswered questions, and I wish I had a phone I could use to text him. I want to continue more of these questions and maybe flirt a bit more.Would he send back dirty texts? Would he flirt?Am I just a big noob who is reading too much into things?
No. Feelings.
I can’t get caught up in this. What he’s going to give me are instructions. A guide that I can take with me when I get home and use it in the future. Maybe with Joe? I make a face as I think his name. The thought of doing anything with anyone besides Tristan sours my stomach. Shit. Not good.
* * *
My ankle is much better in the morning, but it’s still a little sore. I don’t want to do too much today, so I walk slowly to the pond and wait for “Molly” to show up. I laugh to myself as I think about the lie he told. As long as Mom and Dad don’t show up or see Molly out somewhere else, we should be all right.
I strip out of my t-shirt dress and sit on a towel by the pond bank in just my white bikini. My hair is piled on top of my head as I lay on my stomach and read a book while I wait.
I wonder what lesson I’m going to get today.My mind is a jumbled mess as I wait for him to get here. Molly runs into view with Holden hot on her heels. She giggles and screams as he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her against him.
My face drops when I look past them and don’t see Tristan anywhere. I open my mouth to ask, but Holden cuts in.
