Seven #3
She considers him. The whole point of her sex education curriculum is to empower her students and reduce shame, teach people about their own desire and how to feel confident going after it.
Wes is offering her something she’s only ever dreamed of. Is this the perfect opportunity for her to chase her desire?
What about feelings, Charlie? a quiet voice whispers in her mind. What about your heart?
Can she pretend to be indifferent toward him? And when the time comes, will she be able to walk away with her dignity intact?
She’s come a long way from the na?ve freshman who practically wore her heart on her sleeve and offered it to Wes without asking for anything in return.
“How about,” Wes says slowly, “we conduct our own experiment?”
She raises her brows.
He continues, that mouth she thinks too much about curving into a sly smile. “An experiment requires a hypothesis, right? An if/then statement?” Charlie nods. “So, if I touch my mouth to this spot right here…”
He presses the pad of his thumb to the pulse point in her neck, and though she remains absolutely still, her heart jumps, and she can’t imagine he didn’t feel it.
“…then you will gasp with pleasure.”
She hums softly, aiming for a detachment she does not feel. “What if I’m too repulsed by you?”
“I’m almost one hundred percent positive I am more appealing than Stinky Feet Colin.”
She commends herself for keeping a straight face.
He raises his palms, conceding. “But you’re right. I’m sorry. I should have asked first. If you will allow me to touch you, then I will put my mouth on your neck. Consent is the most important thing, of course.”
Charlie taps her finger to her mouth in mock contemplation.
Of course she wants him to touch her. That’s the fucking problem.
She feels unsteady, like she’s balancing on the edge of a cliff and has to decide whether to return to safer, steadier ground or take the risk and leap.
“Fine.” Something releases inside her, a tension she didn’t know was wound so tight. She holds up a finger. “One experiment before deciding if we proceed further.”
Wes grins and opens his mouth, but she doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “Some ground rules. And don’t think this’ll get you out of finishing your test.”
She needs to be in control of this.
He places a hand over his heart in mock solemnity. “I would never think that.”
She takes a deep breath, her heart pounding. “We’ll assess the erogenous zones from the neck up first.”
“Oh, don’t stop now. I love it when you talk dirty with big words.”
She glares at him, and he gestures for her to continue with a cajoling smile.
“No kissing on the mouth.”
He scoffs. “But you kissed Nash.”
“And I felt nothing,” she retorts. “Since you’re so certain you can get a reaction out of me, you shouldn’t be at all concerned.”
She levels her gaze at him. He matches it with a challenge in his eye.
If Wesley Quinn kisses her, she’s truly fucked.
He nods. “As you wish. No kissing. However…” He holds up a finger of his own. “May I touch you over your clothes?”
Charlie presses her lips together, thinking. Her eyes flick to his hands and away again, but not before goose bumps erupt across her arms, despite her cardigan.
She gives a curt nod. “You may.” She swallows and adds, “And under. If you like.”
His smile transforms into something feral, and he leans toward her. She staggers back into the counter, her stomach swooping at the heat in his gaze.
“Quinn—” she squeaks, but he crowds her, palms flat on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. His breath is warm on her skin, his face so close to hers that her lips practically graze his.
“Have you ever been seduced, Rogers?” His voice is deeper now, huskier, and her mouth goes dry when he slides one palm over her hip. “Has anyone taken care of you the way you deserve?”
When his hand slips under the hem of her tank top, her mouth pops open with a soft gasp. His fingers dance along the waistband of her jeans, trailing fire over her skin. Her breaths become erratic, his body so close to hers that her chest almost brushes his as it rises and falls.
“Quinn, wait.”
He freezes and steps back despite the darkening desire in his gaze.
Charlie inhales shakily. “I need to know something first.” He dips his head in agreement, his face impassive. “Why did you ask me to tutor you?”
He watches her, guarded. She’s certain he’s going to refuse to answer.
“You’re the smartest person I know,” he says quietly. He arches a brow as if she’s going to refute his statement. “I trust you to do the best job.”
Her pulse stumbles at the compliment, and she swallows her discomfort at his open sincerity. If he trusts her with something this important, she can trust him with her experiment, right?
It’s just sex. They probably won’t even get that far.
She nods. “Thank you.”
“Now.” He grins languidly, nodding to the couch. “Why don’t we get you more comfortable?”
With a bravado she does not feel, she ambles to the sofa on shaky legs, trying to calm her racing heart. She sits straight-backed, perched on the edge of the cushion.
He stalks toward her, his gaze assessing and focused. Heat rises across her skin at his overt attention, but she refuses to look away. With effortless grace, he slides onto the cushion farthest from Charlie, his long, muscular legs open and stretched in front of him.
He pats the space between his thighs. “Come here.”
Charlie balks. “Why—”