Love Lessons

Chapter Two

Valerie

“Marquez, this is abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous!”

“Hey,” Valerie whispered, covering Andrew’s mouth with her hand. “No cursing.”

“Lunchtime,” he mumbled, and she pulled her hand away. The kids weren’t around at lunch. Regardless, she didn’t care for bad

words. It reminded her of her father, who, among many other things, was always cursing. It was one of the many reasons she’d

left home the moment she’d turned eighteen.

“The entire courtyard looks like a rainbow threw up.” He brushed chalk off his suit jacket. He’d mixed things up today, wearing

a jacket instead of a sweater. Oddly enough, she missed the sweater. “This is too much, even for you, Marquez.”

“Oh my God, it’s just chalk. Jeez. It’s going to rain tonight and it’ll all wash away. Relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax—”

“How are we doing?” Principal Carmichael said. His eyes opened wide, and he abruptly turned around. She followed suit and plastered on a fake smile as Carmichael walked them both down the outdoor walkway that led to their courtyard. “Whoa, looks like your kids had a good old time, Valerie,” he said while looking at the masterpiece drawn all over the concrete.

“They certainly did,” Valerie replied nervously.

“I haven’t heard any complaints in four whole days from either of you. That must be some kind of record.”

“We’re great, Jim,” Andrew replied, a little faster than necessary, and she inconspicuously nudged him with her elbow. “We

talked it all out and we’re going to try and be friends.”

She heard the way the F-word got stuck in the back of his throat. Friends with Wexler? Ha! Impossible.

“You two? Friends?” Carmichael bent over and laughed heartily. “I won’t hold my breath.”

“No, really. I realized that Mar—I mean, Valerie’s creative style has its advantages. For instance—” He looked around and

then down at all the doodles on the concrete. Valerie tried to hold in a laugh, because where she saw creativity, he surely

saw a disjointed mess of chalk. Even Ol’ B had become collateral damage in all the chalk art. “Oh, is this a dog?” he asked.

“D-O-G.” She spelled out the word written underneath the chalk blob.

He obviously hadn’t seen the letters when he’d set out to mock her, but there was a visible change in him when he noticed.

“Did the kids write out the word ‘dog’?”

“And ‘cat.’ And ‘hat.’ And their names.” She pointed at what may have looked like a big jumble but was actually her teaching

method. Ha! Eat your words, Wexler. Just because her method of teaching was different from his didn’t mean her kids weren’t learning.

His response was an unreadable “Humph.”

“And you, Valerie? Have you taken anything out of the Andrew Wexler playbook?”

She could not think of a single thing that Andrew did that she’d replicate with her students. Not one. Andrew coughed loudly.

“Certainly,” she spit out. “I’ve—I’ve started implementing quiet time in my class after lunch.” She wasn’t even certain he

had quiet time—it just came out of her mouth. But quiet time seemed like something he’d use in his classroom.

“You have?” Andrew asked skeptically, his brow arched up and his arms crossed over his chest as if he were waiting for her

to elaborate.

“Yessss,” she said, awkwardly slowly. An uncomfortable moment passed before she started to talk again. “It’s given me some

free time to input grades into the system. Great for time management.”

“That’s not the point of free time,” he replied. “It’s not so that you can have time to do admin work. It’s so that the children

can relax their brains and prepare for the next subject. It should only be for—”

She waved him off and took a step forward, essentially stopping him from beginning what was sure to be a tirade. Carmichael

was watching them, and they needed to get along, or at least pretend to get along. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m doing that quiet

time thing and it’s going swimmingly.” Then for some inexplicable reason, Valerie reached back, took Andrew’s hand in hers,

and pulled it up into the air in triumph. “Teamwork makes the dream work!”

Both Andrew and Carmichael looked at her quizzically. Ack! Had she just grabbed his hand? She let go and stepped away before she said—or did—anything else that she’d regret. “Well, I’m glad to see you two learning from each other and getting along. You’re both instrumental here at GPA and I’d hate to lose either of you.” And then he was gone, and, almost as if planned, they both went into their rooms, turned toward their respective classroom doors, and slammed them shut.

Two days later, Valerie was squeezing the life out of her steering wheel as she drove home from work. While she was making

an effort to get along with Andrew, the infuriating man was trying his best to push all her buttons. Is he actively trying to get me fired? Ugh, the man was driving her insane.

Her phone rang. “Hey,” Valerie said over the Bluetooth when she answered. It was Monique, her best friend and GPA’s fourth-grade

teacher.

“Are you okay? You were in a terrible mood all day,” Monique said. “I thought you were going to bite someone’s head off during

lunch.”

“I wasn’t in a terrible mood!” she said, and then quickly added, “But you’d be in a terrible mood if someone just swooped

in and stole your favorite Dolphin’s mug and the last drop of coffee. You’d bite someone’s head off. I’ve seen you without

coffee, Monique.”

“Yeah, no, girl, that’s you. I’m a tea girl, not coffee,” she said, and chuckled. “So, I guess you were in a terrible mood, and I’m deducing that Andrew and coffee and a mug were involved.”

Valerie guffawed. Earlier that morning, Carmichael had walked into the teachers’ lounge right as Andrew had taken her favorite

mug with the last of the freshly brewed coffee she had just poured into it.

“Hey, where’s my mug?” she’d said just as she watched Andrew add a ton of sugar to the coffee and then put his mouth on the

rim. “What the heck, Wexler?”

“I had just brewed that coffee, and you think you’re just going to come in and drink it. Hell no,” he said.

She hadn’t realized he’d wanted any or that he’d just made it when she’d poured it into her mug. And then the butthole of

a man took it right from under her nose. She wanted to rip it from his hand. It was her Miami Dolphins mug, and he knew it.

“Everything okay?” Carmichael asked, and Andrew smiled coyly. He knew she’d have to be quiet about it.

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth. Then, to add insult to injury, he’d taken her mug to his classroom. That caused

her to waltz into his room, midday, while he was torturing his students with more reading, and take it back. But of course

she walked in with Biscuit, her class’s pet hamster, and left him for his class to play with. Not surprisingly, this disrupted

his class for the rest of the day; she could hear the commotion of the children running after Biscuit from the other side

of the wall. It was payback, and it felt glorious.

Except that she hadn’t had any caffeine all day and her head was pounding.

“Everyone can see through the bullshit, Val,” Monique said as Valerie drove home. “Hello! Earth to Val. Are you there?”

“Oh, sorry. Yes. I’m here. Um... what were you saying?”

“That we can all see the bullshit between you and Andrew. Those smiles are faker than a three-dollar bill.”

“We’re being civil.”

“Come on. There is nothing civil about you two. You know, half the faculty is taking bets on who’ll crack first. My money’s

on him. You have two more days to make him lose his cool and I’ll be seventy-five dollars richer.”

“Har-har. I do nothing but teach. If Mr. Stick Up His Butt can’t handle it, then that’s on him. It’s not my job to make someone

like me. If Wexler hates me, that’s his problem, not mine.”

“Yes, but you also don’t have to bring a trombone to your class.”

“Well, Jacob is musically inclined, and I think that’s his instrument.”

Monique laughed into the phone. “Anyway, don’t forget that it’s Luis’s going-away party on Friday at Andrew’s house.”

Luis had gotten a vice principal position at a school in West Palm Beach and was leaving GPA. He was also Wexler’s best friend.

It must’ve taken Wexler a lot to invite her, but the entire faculty was going, so he probably didn’t have much of a choice.

Valerie liked Luis, and it was the last day of the school year, so she was obviously going to go, regardless of who was hosting

the party.

“Yeah, I know. I wonder if Luis forced Wexler to invite me.”

“Probably,” she said. “You know that Luis has had a crush on you since day one.”

Luis had asked her out once, but Valerie didn’t think dating someone who worked with her was a good idea. After that, they’d remained friends, even though the man had terrible judgment when it came to best friends.

“Had. Past tense. We’re just friends now.”

“I don’t know about that. Anyway, Carmichael will be there, so you need to be on your best behavior.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “It’s not me who needs to behave.”

“He’s not awful. If you just got to know him—”

“?‘He’s not awful’? What the heck is that supposed to mean? He’s Satan.”

“He is not Satan. He’s introverted.”

“Introverted.” She guffawed. “I know introverted. An introvert does not knock on my wall twice a day to tell me to be quiet.

An introvert does not write ‘suggested’ curriculums for me and leave them on my desk. An introvert does not paint my hair

blue or take my mug and drink my coffee!”

“A very upset one probably would!”

“Ugh... You always did like him, you traitor.”

Monique laughed. “But I like you better.”

“Yeah, yeah. See ya tomorrow. Love you, friend.”

“I love you too, Val. But I’m serious—behave. You have a lot to lose if you don’t.” Then she hung up.

Valerie thought about this for the rest of the evening and every day until the party on Friday.

Monique was right, she needed to behave. And that’s what she chanted to herself over and over on Friday when she walked into

Andrew’s lair.

“We’ll miss you, Luis!” Maria, the school librarian, said with a glass of wine in her hand.

“To Luis!” the rest of the faculty yelled. “Hear, hear!”

To everyone’s surprise, she and Wexler had gone two weeks without being called to the principal’s office, and now they could

part ways and spend the entire summer blowing off steam so that they could start fresh in the fall. Was Carmichael really

contemplating firing one of them? She needed this job. Not only because she loved teaching, but because she liked being back

in Miami and closer to her mother again. She finally felt as if she was setting down roots, and she was not about to let a

stuck-up teacher’s pet—er... principal’s pet—ruin the best job she’d ever had.

Andrew

Why had he volunteered to host this party?

He was a perfectionist, even if he hated to admit it. He was also a bit anal retentive about things. There were guests putting

glasses all over his wood coffee table. Was there enough food? Drinks? He wasn’t a great conversationalist, and crowds made

him clam up. If Luis hadn’t been his best friend since high school, he definitely would not have agreed to throw this party.

Luis was the reason Andrew was currently at GPA. He had been teaching at a public school across town. When there’d been an opening at Gables Prep, Luis had given him the heads-up and put in a good word with Carmichael. GPA was the best private school in Miami, and there were rarely job openings. He didn’t envision himself ever working at an elitist institution; he’d gone to private schools as a kid and never fit in. His parents were working-class people and sacrificed a lot to send him to schools like GPA. He struggled during childhood to make friends, because everyone else had such different social status. He never found it fair that his parents needed to work so hard for him to go to a good school. Regular people should have the ability to educate their children properly. GPA was different, though. It was known for its philanthropic opportunities. It was private but not elitist.

Moreover, the board always saved twenty percent of the school’s occupancy for low-income students, whom they awarded full

scholarships. There was a healthy mix of financial statuses, and the school fostered a humbleness in students that Andrew

appreciated. The field trips were free, the uniforms were reasonably priced, and grants were given to ensure everyone was

on an even playing field. Teaching at GPA was a coveted position, one that he’d worked damned hard for.

Even if kindergarten sounded like small potatoes, having GPA on a résumé was highly regarded by educators. Giving back to

the community was at the forefront of the board’s agenda. Just because a child came from wealth did not mean they’d have an

automatic seat at GPA. They had to earn it. He’d loved being a part of Gables Prep during these past five years; losing his

job was just not an option. Valerie would not, could not, cost him his career.

And this is what consumed Andrew’s brain while he was supposed to be hosting a party.

Andrew was in the middle of wiping down the kitchen island when the bane of his existence walked into the room.

“I see your uptightness knows no bounds,” she said as she watched him place coasters under glasses.

“This is natural wood, Marquez. Do you know the damage red wine would do to this?” His kitchen island was a thick slab of

solid maple. Essentially, it was a chopping block. Whenever he had company, everyone always congregated in his kitchen and

stood around his kitchen island to chat.

“Actually, I don’t,” she replied sincerely. “Here, I brought this.” She handed him two bottles of wine. “I also brought a

quiche, which I left out there with the other food.” She pointed to the other side of the open-concept room. The small four-person

dining room table was full to the brim with food that people had brought.

“Very civil of you. Thanks.”

“Soooo... are we still trucing or are we back to fighting?” she asked, looking around the room, probably to see if Carmichael

was around.

Andrew wouldn’t call the past two weeks anything remotely close to a truce, but he could admit they’d been better. Mostly,

they’d avoided each other as much as one could while sharing a wall, a hallway, a cafeteria, and a courtyard. He sincerely

doubted that they’d be able to keep it up for a full school year, but he didn’t want to lose his job, nor did he want her

to lose hers. She wasn’t his favorite person, but he didn’t wish harm on anyone.

If Valerie could just keep her voice down and her students in check, no one’s job would be in jeopardy. Maybe she’d realized that during the past two weeks. He took a swig of the cold beer in his hand and looked across the island to the woman in a too-bright yellow skirt and a hot-pink top that did not match, at all. Yet on Valerie Marquez, it worked. Her hazel eyes were alight with mischief. She reached for a glass and poured herself red wine, careful not to spill any on his wooden countertop.

“Carmichael’s here, so I think it’s good that we keep up the charade, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Charade, huh? I didn’t think games were in your vocabulary.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Ms. Marquez.”

With a tilt of her brow, she leaned forward, her elbows on the wood. “So is the strict disciplinarian an act or something?

Like, are you super fun outside of the classroom?”

He laughed. “Nah. I’m the same guy in and out of the classroom.” He was. Except he wasn’t that asshole she took him to be.

“So super boring all the time—got it.”

“Have a nice evening, Marquez.” He clinked the bottom of his beer bottle to her wineglass and left the room before she said

something that would undoubtedly piss him off. She loved to provoke him. Why she did it, he wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure

why she affected him so much. The loud music gave him a headache, but the painting didn’t, and neither did her classroom décor

or her silly class pet hamster. Yet, all of it, combined, irritated him.

“My one regret was not hooking up with Valerie one time,” Luis said to Andrew while watching her from across the room.

“You say that as if you ever had a shot,” Andrew said, also watching the woman. She was holding court in his living room.

There were at least eight people around her laughing at whatever she was saying. She was a people magnet.

“I was friend-zoned before I even had the opportunity to give her the full Luis charm that women can’t resist.”

Andrew laughed. Truthfully, Luis never had trouble getting women to fall under his spell. He had tried with Valerie and fallen

flat. Andrew didn’t know what Luis saw in her. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. She was beautiful, but she was also a pain

in the ass. Once you saw that side of her, the physical appeal seemed, well, less appealing.

“Maybe I’ll try one last time,” Luis said, and strolled into the living room. Andrew didn’t follow. He didn’t feel the need

to watch Luis flirt with Valerie.

What if Luis succeeds? What if they leave the party together?

For some inexplicable reason, Andrew didn’t like that scenario.

An hour later, most of the guests had left. Luis, Monique, and three other teachers were the only ones left.

“Come on, Wexler. Have a shot with us? It’s the last day of school. Luis is leaving. You have all summer to hate me,” Valerie

shouted from the other room as she poured tequila. Valerie had made herself comfortable in his house, fumbling through his

kitchen until she found the shot glasses.

“Last one and then I’m out,” Monique said. “Swear to God, Valerie has the highest tolerance for alcohol of anyone I know.

Look, she’s completely fine. I, on the other hand, am going to really regret agreeing to this last shot tomorrow morning.”

“The key is to eat a good dinner, which I did, and to hydrate,” Valerie said. She was really cute when she let loose.

Cute? When had Marquez gone from pain in his ass to cute?

He didn’t wait for anyone else to grab a shot glass before grabbing one and downing it.

“Heyyyy...,” Luis said, followed by the rest of the group, who took their drinks.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Andrew that Valerie had egged them all on and poured the drinks, but she herself hadn’t drunk any.

He eyed her suspiciously and was going to say something, but when their eyes met, she winked at him.

Winked?

Maybe he’d drunk too much. He didn’t feel buzzed. He’d had two beers in as many hours and a shot of tequila. He was by no

means drunk.

“I’m out,” Luis said. “Last chance to come home with me, Val. You’re missing out. I’m a catch, you know. Ladies love all of

this,” he slurred, gesturing to himself.

Valerie opened her arms and hugged him. “As difficult as it is, I’m going to say no,” she said. “I’ll miss you, buddy.”

“Ugh... ‘buddy’... what a stupid word,” Luis said, causing the group to laugh loudly.

“Give me a hug, Sergeant Wexler,” Luis said, giving Andrew a sloppy drunk hug.

“Don’t worry,” the third-grade science teacher said. “We’re sharing a cab home.”

“Good,” Andrew said.

They all hugged, shook hands, and said their goodbyes. “Have a great summer,” Monique said to Valerie. “You sure you don’t

want a ride home?”

“No, girl, I can’t drive. I’m waiting for my ride-share to arrive. I just have to go to the bathroom and grab my purse, and

then I’m leaving too.”

Andrew started picking up while Valerie was in the bathroom.

“Thanks for a good time, Wexler,” Valerie said when she returned.

“Enjoy your summer, Marquez,” he said while holding a black garbage bag and tossing plastic cups into it. Everyone had left

except for her.

“Your house is a mess,” she said by the front door. She walked into the kitchen and dropped her purse on the counter.

“It’s fine,” he said, but she ignored him. He continued to clean up, trying to forget that she was in the next room. “You

really don’t have to do that,” he said to Valerie, who was washing the wineglasses.

“I don’t mind.”

He appreciated the help, and if the woman was insisting, then he’d be a fool not to take her up on the offer. Things weren’t

too messy, but he hated going to bed with food and drinks scattered everywhere. “Did you clean out your room? I never know

where to store all the stuff we accumulate throughout the year,” he said. He wasn’t even sure why he mentioned it; he was

awful at small talk.

“I left most of it. I know it’s not advisable ,” she said, air-quoting the word, “but my apartment is tiny and I can’t store all that stuff at home. I did do a thorough

cleaning. I don’t know why we even have to clear out the rooms. Seems like a dumb rule considering we’ll be right back there

next school year.”

“It’s because they paint the rooms and fumigate during the summer and they want to make sure nothing gets damaged,” he responded.

Silence.

They just didn’t have anything in common, and there was nothing else he could think to say.

“I have to admit, Wexler, I didn’t picture your house looking like this. It’s nice.” She was looking around as she wiped down

a table.

He laughed. “What did you expect?”

“A creepy lair. Actually,” she said, putting the paper towel down and scanning the room, “if I’m being honest, I expected

white walls, white furniture. Minimal everything. Something very generic. Very... sanitized. No personality.”

“Jesus.” So that’s what she thought of him. “You’re delightfully honest.”

“I’m sorry. That sounded nicer in my head. I didn’t mean it that way. In school you’re so rigid in your curriculum, and your

classroom is very organized and—”

“It doesn’t look like a box of Crayola threw up in it,” he interrupted.

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s not a bad thing,” she added quickly. Clearly, she was picking her words carefully and wasn’t

intentionally trying to insult him, which he appreciated. It was sweet. But he kind of wanted to let her sweat a little. So

he let her continue to ramble on. “I’m sure the kids like your classroom the way it is. The alphabet along the wall is nice,

with the primary colors and—”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, it’s cute. I’d add some more things, but that’s just me and—” She exhaled. “Okay, we have different tastes. We already

knew that. I swear I’m trying to compliment you.”

“But it’s hard for you.”

“It’s not hard. I can be complimentary. In fact, that’s what I was trying to say. Your house is lovely. I like the dark wood of the furniture. I love that you don’t have a ridiculously huge television. I like your front door. Actually, I freaking love your front door. The wood countertop instead of granite is gorgeous.”

All the compliments coming from her were actually disconcerting. “Thanks,” he said shyly. “And your apartment? It’s tiny,

you said?”

“Oh my, is it! I need to move, but moving is such a pain, and the rent in Miami is absurd. Are you glad the year is over?

I always have mixed feelings about the end of the school year. On the one hand, I love that I get time off and I don’t have

to wake up at the crack of dawn. On the other hand, it kills me that the kids will move on, forget about our time together.

I always spend all summer thinking of them. Does that happen to you?”

He just stared at her. Had she breathed at all during that speech? It was a rapid-fire jumble of words. Maybe she felt weird

being alone with him without the wall of the classroom between them. Without animosity, what did they have?

“Sorry, I’m chatty,” she said.

“I like it,” he blurted, wanting to retract the words the moment they’d come out of his mouth. He’d said it a little too breathily,

a little too eagerly. He took the garbage bag and walked out to pick up the trash from the yard; he could feel her eyes boring

into him from across the room.

When enough time had passed he came back inside and found Valerie wiping down the same table.

“Well, then... I think everything’s all clean,” she said.

But he wasn’t ready for her to leave just yet. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she said as she crumpled the paper towel in her hands.

“You didn’t drink at all tonight, did you?”

“I did drink. I had a glass of wine, but that’s all. I have a flight to catch early in the morning, and I don’t want to be

hungover for that.”

“Why pretend?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Easier this way, I guess.”

“Where you going?” he asked, carrying the garbage bag. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“It’s fine. I’m going to Haiti. I’m part of a program that teaches adults English.”

He didn’t think he was easily stunned. Yet this stunned him. Unequivocally. “You’re shitting me.”

She laughed and then tossed the paper towel into the bag he was carrying before he tied it closed. He turned to wash his hands

just as she did the same thing. She smelled of vanilla. This was the first time they’d ever been this close to one another

without threatening objects in their hands. She cocked a smile and bumped him with her hip.

“Why would I be lying?” She had a pretty smile. She may have been his nemesis and the opposite of what normally attracted

him, but she was beautiful, that he couldn’t deny.

“I guess I wouldn’t peg you for someone who’d do something so—so—altruistic.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Wexler,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.

Damn.

Was it getting hot in his house? Why was she so close and breathless?

“You know, when you’re not scowling, you’re not a troll,” Valerie said.

He reached for the faucet behind her and turned it off, his eyes not leaving hers. Her hands were still wet, and she reached

around him to grab a paper towel, her lips a mere inch from his face, her eyes on his.

He grabbed her wrist and stopped her. They were small and dainty wrists. Her nails were painted the same shade of yellow as

her dress.

“What are you doing, Wexler?” she asked breathlessly.

“Probably something that we’ll both regret in the morning.”

Her smile was gone, replaced by something else. It was a look he’d never seen on her face. He’d seen it on other women, but

not on Valerie. When her tongue peeked out and she licked her lips, he knew that her thoughts were exactly the same as his.

He couldn’t say who started the kiss. Whether her lips landed on his or his on hers, but their tongues were suddenly intertwined

and her wet hands were sliding into his hair, scratching at his scalp, while his were sliding into the bottom of her pink

shirt and up the sides of her body. She was warm and soft. His hands slid higher, and the kiss grew more intense.

He lifted her, turned them around, and sat her on the kitchen island. Her legs wrapped around his body as they kissed.

When was the last time he’d made out with a woman in this frenzied, can’t-get-enough sort of way?

But, fuck him, the woman kissed like she did everything else. Full of spunk and excitement. He pulled away just long enough to untwine her hands from around his neck and pull his shirt over his head and toss it behind him. She did the same with her top.

“Jesus,” he whispered, looking at her lacy soft-pink bra. She had full breasts that he wanted to suck and lick and taste.

She reached behind her back and unsnapped the bra, and then her tits were free of the lace. He groaned and cupped them with

his hands before leaning down and taking one of the puckered pink nipples into his mouth. Her body arched into his. He let

go of the first nipple with a loud pop and then took the other one in his mouth. She ran her nails down his back.

He let go of the nipple and went back to her bruised lips. She wrapped her legs and arms around his body, and he carried her

to bed, buzzing with anticipation. Having her in his arms was the last thing he’d expected to ever happen, yet for some reason

it felt oddly perfect.

Valerie

Andrew gently laid Valerie down. She could barely process what was happening. Andrew Wexler was pulling her skirt down her legs. Andrew “Stick Up His Butt” Wexler. But she was too wound up to question it. Quickly, she sat up and helped him with his belt, and then he pushed his pants down his legs. He pressed her back down on the bed and leaned over her, again sucking on her nipples. He was apparently a breast man, because he took his time pinching and sucking, and then one hand slid down her torso and into her panties. She arched up, and he moved from her breasts to her lips as his fingers pushed inside her.

“Condom in the bedside table,” he rasped, and she quickly opened the drawer, tossing things out until she found the strip

of condoms, which she threw at him.

He stroked himself as he watched her watching him. It was hot. He ripped the corner of the packet and tossed it aside as he

slid the condom on, his eyes never moving off hers. Then he moved toward her like a predator, and she welcomed him, opening

her legs wider to make room for him as he positioned himself at her entrance.

Valerie groaned in pleasure when he finally pushed inside, with his closed eyes and his bottom lip between his teeth, as if

he were barely holding on to his sanity. She loved that he was losing his control.

“Stop wiggling so much,” he growled.

“Are you waiting for an invitation, Wexler? Move,” she said breathlessly. She nudged his ass with her heel.

“Marquez... you’re a pain in the ass even when I’m inside you.”

She ignored him and continued to wiggle. He placed his palm between her breasts and pushed her into the mattress as he began

to move.

“So good,” he said hoarsely. “There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants,” he added in a deep guttural groan

when she grabbed his hand and moved it down to her clit.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her body began to shudder as he moved his hips and his fingers in unison. He thought she was sexy. All these years, she’d been under the impression that he didn’t think of her at all—except when he wanted to kill her for annoying him.

“Fuuuck...,” he yelled out when her pussy tightened around him and they came together. She didn’t think that had ever

happened before for her. Usually she faked her orgasms, or her partner would come and then take care of her. But climaxing

at the same time—that was a unicorn, as far as she was concerned. And holy crap—now that she knew how it felt to be that intimate

and that satisfied, she wanted to do it over and over and over again.