Chapter Twelve

“Lesson seven coming up,” Matt said when he arrived at her apartment that evening.

There was that patented I-am-teacher-you-are-student look gleaming in his eyes as he breezed merrily through her foyer and into the living room. Betsy quickly turned to follow him. “I liked lesson two.”

And, God, how she’d liked it! He’d done all the hard work, bringing her to orgasm over and over again while she lay there having the best time of her life. It was to gauge her body’s reaction to sex, he’d claimed when he started. By the time it was over, he generously declared her reactions to be as good as reactions ever got.

He stopped at the center of the room and pulled off his coat. “Lesson two? I did all the work in lesson two. God, you are the laziest female I’ve ever met, wanting everything done for you. Well, no way. Lesson two was weeks ago. Onward and upward to more knowledge. That’s always the ticket.” He tossed his coat on a chair and held his arms out to her. “So today it’s lesson seven.”

Betsy frowned at him and slowly backed away. “But I really liked lesson two. I think we should do it again.”

“We’re in the classroom now,” he reminded her. “So first we take care of lesson seven.” Then he paused and lowered his arms, his voice softening in a way clearly meant to reassure her. “But if you’re not getting anything out of this, we could stop. Do you want to end it now?”

She shook her head.

End it? Never! Not after the wild ride she’d had in lesson one, the explosive sex she’d had in lesson two, the gentle holding she’d had in lesson three, the laugh-out-loud flirting of lesson four, the erotic massaging of lesson five and the desk-contortion antics of lesson six.

Matt nodded. “Then lesson seven, it is.” He held out his hands again. “Come here.”

“Why?” She questioned him but still obeyed, walking slowly toward him.

“Clothes have no place in lesson seven.” He pulled her closer, carefully undoing the buttons on her blouse and the zipper of her skirt, then stripping the clothes off until she stood there wearing only panties and a bra.

Then he reached out to remove those too, and she panicked. Oh no, not that. Please. Not her whole body on display with all the lights shining cruelly down on her imperfections. She backed away, shaking her head. “Not in the light. With Tyler it was always in the dark. I begged him to do it that way and—”

He frowned and placed his hand to her lips. “There is no darkness between two people who sleep together. At least there shouldn’t be.”

The words sparked a strange sensation inside of her, and she looked at him over the edge of his palm and nodded.

He nodded back at her, smiling as his hand slid away from her mouth and slowly smoothed down her throat.

Betsy stiffened when he drew her closer, but his movements were so gentle that she forced herself to remain silent and motionless as he put his arms around her and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms, then stripping the garment off and tossing it behind him.

She didn’t even think to see where it had landed. She was too consumed with trying not to cross her arms over her breasts. Then even that feeble effort at obedience took second place to struggling not to flinch and slap his hands away when he got down on one knee and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties, easing them over her hips, her butt, then down the length of her legs.

He got to his feet again and stared at her, his eyes giving her the message before his mouth had time to echo it. “You have a beautiful body, Betsy Kincaid. Don’t ever be ashamed of it.”

Her breath went crazy because he meant it. He might be gay, but he obviously understood the female body, and respected it, and she knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t lying to her. “Thank you.” She was wildly exhilarated at how free she suddenly felt, even with the lights blazing and her naked body boldly on display. “What now?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, looking amused and more than a little wicked. “Showering together is always a good thing to do.” He shrugged. “Of course, you can say no whenever you want to.”

But she didn’t want to say no. Already her body was reacting to the image of their slick, soapy skin sliding together. Stepping out of her panties that still lay around her ankles, she nodded to him. “I’m ready.”

His eyes made a quick tour of her, nothing crude or lascivious, just appraising and approving. Then with a grin, he swung her into his arms.

The fabric of his shirtsleeves rubbed against her back and thighs, but it was a soft fabric and didn’t hurt, so she closed her eyes and relaxed, her body going boneless as he carried her into the bathroom.

“Hey, wake up,” he said quietly. “No sleeping in the shower.”

Betsy opened her eyes and smiled at him.

He smiled back, hugging her more firmly against his chest so his shirt rubbed her breasts too, making the tips feel sensitive, alert, eager for anything he had planned for them.

“Can’t help it.” She lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Being carried by you is very relaxing.”

“Hey, sex isn’t something you relax through. It’s something you get hot and bothered doing.” He bounced her a little in his arms. “So come on, get hot and bothered.”

Betsy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Make me.” Her self-satisfied grin all but dared him to do it.

Raising an eyebrow, he bent toward her until his face was so close she thought he was going to kiss her, and her heart began to race at the prospect. But he didn’t kiss her. He just bared his teeth in an answering grin. “A challenge, eh? Okay, lady, you’re on.”

Setting her on her feet in the shower, he pointed a finger at her. “Now stay right there. I mean, if you think you’ve got enough energy to stand on your own. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Pulling a condom packet from his pocket, he tossed it to her. “Neon yellow. Open it for me while I get undressed.”

Betsy ripped the packet open. From the corner of her eye, she saw his clothes flying all over the place. When she looked up again, he was stepping into the shower with her, completely naked. She moved back against the tiled wall of the shower stall, trying not to gawk at the embarrassment of riches his body offered—arms that bulged with muscles, a chest furred with a smattering of dark hair, a rock-hard stomach, and below it…her gaze flicked downward…below it a penis that even now looked vaguely distended, as if it was already preparing for action. Which surprised her, since he preferred men.

Looking up at him again, she held out the condom.

He shook his head and tapped his palm against his mouth as he feigned a yawn. “You do it. Think I’m starting to feel a little lazy myself.”

Betsy frowned at him but still grudgingly got down on her knee to do the honors, gently rolling the garish yellow sheath up over him. At first, she tried not to touch his skin, then decided, What the hell! and let her fingers slide slowly along his shaft, pressing the tip to drive him crazy, then stroking his balls until he sucked in a groan and grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet.

“First things first.” He turned on the hot water and positioned the spray nozzle so the stream hit below their shoulders, sending up a steamy mist that enveloped them. “And the first thing is our little challenge to get you hot and bothered.”

“You’re no gentleman, mentioning that.”

He grinned at her, looking supremely pleased with himself as he took a bottle of liquid soap she kept on a shelf and poured some into his palm. The mingled scents of coconut and jasmine rose into the air, carried on the soothing warmth of the shower stall.

Betsy inhaled the intoxicating fragrance, and a wave of relaxation seeped into her bones, making her sigh. Then he turned her around and stood behind her. Sliding his arms around her, he trapped her against him as his soapy hands worked the lather over her, concentrating on her breasts.

Her fleeting sense of relaxation turned into a surging thrum of excitement when he caught each of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it into a peak.

The sensation spiraled through her, sending a curl of heat across her skin, a heat that worked its way down to her crotch, making her legs automatically open as she silently and shamelessly begged for what she wanted to happen next.

The hot water sluiced down the front of her body, its temperature paling in comparison to the heat caused when he traced his hand along the curve of her breast, then down, down, over her belly and toward her thighs that of their own volition opened even wider for him.

Laying her head back against his shoulder, she stared into his eyes as he bent over her, watching her reactions when his fingers sank into her folds and he found his unerring way to her clitoris, pushing down on it with a slow, circular movement that made her press against him.

“Hot and bothered yet?” he whispered in her ear.

Betsy tried to frown at him for that snarky comment, but she couldn’t hold a frown. She was too busy biting her lip to keep from crying out as he dipped his fingers inside her, filling her until she felt as if every sensation in her body was concentrated down there, on those few inches of engorged flesh that were home to his questing hand.

A vague thought that she’d had before flicked through her mind again. He was so good at this, so comfortable with the female body, that maybe he was really bisexual, not completely gay. Not that it made a difference. No matter how it might seem, their relationship was just a surface thing without any genuine emotion involved. His real love interest was Rob, and she would never deliberately interfere with that relationship.

She sucked in a breath as another thought suddenly intruded. Maybe she was interfering.

But both thoughts were quickly swept away by the feel of his fingers sliding out of her and resting on her clitoris again, their movement fast and firm, sending a coil of sensation into her belly. Her legs grew rigid. Her whole body stiffened as she waited for what came next.

“Definitely hot and bothered,” he murmured, his mouth against her hair.

Again, she would have scowled at him for sounding so damn self-satisfied and sure of himself but, frankly, at that point, she was too far gone to care. All she wanted was release from the incredible way he was tormenting her, then she wanted more of the torment, hours and hours of it.

He cupped one of her breasts with his free hand, his fingers playing with the nipple the way his other hand was playing with her clitoris.

That did it. She tensed, every inch of her skin suffused with heat. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth as he quickened his movements, and the heat and tightness spread inside of her until it all broke free and the climax rolled through her, sharp and sweet.

Her legs wobbled as if they were about to give way beneath her, but he supported her, holding her upright as the spasms shook her with wave after wave of sensation. Slumping back against him, she finally caught her breath and opened her eyes again to find him grinning down at her.

“And that’s the way you’re supposed to be during sex.” He turned her around in his arms. “Physically involved, without a relaxed bone in your body.”

She made a face at him. “You’re a sadist, you know that?”

He laughed. “Hey, you didn’t look like you were being tortured.”

Betsy shrugged. “I’m a good actor.” And without thinking about what she was doing, she pulled his head closer, so close that their mouths were only inches apart. “What about you?”

It was a bold thing to do, the kind of thing she never did with Tyler or Brad or any of the other men she’d been involved with over the years, but somehow it felt right because, in some sense, this wasn’t real. It was a game they were playing, a fantasy classroom where the rules she’d always followed fell away, and she could be anything she’d ever dreamed of being. More important, it felt damn good, so she went with it, her expression deliberately goading him now that she was satisfied and he wasn’t.

At least the bulge she felt pressing against her indicated he wasn’t satisfied. His body was as worked up as hers had been a few minutes ago.

“I never act,” he insisted.

His voice sounded decidedly tight and his breathing had grown shallower. Definite signs that—oh yeah—he was involved. Way to go, Betsy. “Not the acting part.” She drew his head even closer and deliberately pressed against his swollen shaft. “The part about being physically involved.”

His expression darkened, then he cupped the back of her head to hold her in place with her face only a few millimeters from his, while his other hand just as firmly cupped her butt, stroking the wet skin there until her desire started to grow again. “A teacher should always be involved in everything he’s teaching.” He smiled as his fingers moved gently against her hair. “So, yes, I’m involved.”

She lifted her face higher, wanting to admit so many things to him, all her stupid foibles and failings. The shower was so small and enclosed that somehow she felt protected here, safely cocooned, with the constant thrum of water absorbing all outside sound. “My first boyfriend after college said I kissed like a ten-year-old.”

His fingers dug into her hair, drawing her head closer as he captured her mouth in a kiss that had her pressing her slippery body against his to keep that deliciously thrusting tongue of his from getting away.

“Your first boyfriend after college was an idiot,” he whispered when he finally broke the contact and lifted his head. “You kiss like a vixen.”

Betsy licked her lips where the taste of him still lingered. “He left me for a redhead with 44-triple-D breasts.”

“Her own breasts?”

Betsy shook her head. “A graduation present from her folks.”

He laughed, the sound echoing against the tiled walls. “That proves he was an idiot. With breasts that size, she probably fell over a lot when they were together.”

She smiled because thinking back on it—even on the pain she’d experienced when it happened—suddenly, in retrospect, it was funny. “The only time I ever had an orgasm with a man was once with Tyler. It was such a surprise I started laughing, I was so thrilled.”

“You don’t laugh now when it happens.”

Amazing. He was right. “No, I don’t. Now I expect it to happen.”

“Let’s make it happen again, then.”

She nodded. “For you, too.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Now.” Reveling in her newfound feeling of delight and feminine control, she raised her leg and rubbed her knee up and down his shaft. It had grown huge, and he obviously couldn’t hold on much longer.

Gritting his teeth, he let out a breathless groan and nodded. “Now.” He picked her up and pressed her against the shower wall.

The tile was warm and slick against her back, and she braced her hands on his shoulders, holding on tight as she opened her thighs to give him access. His penis pushed against her and she reached between them to guide it inside of her as her legs encircled his waist to hold him there while he stroked into her, deeper and deeper, harder and harder. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back as water sprayed over him, drenching his hair, running in rivulets down his face.

His movements weren’t smooth, but they were effective, stimulating her so thoroughly that the sensation rose in her again, the way it had just a few minutes ago, driving out all cogent thought, all conscious awareness that this was wrong. Because somehow, it felt so right, being held here by him, with his body inside her pounding its desire into the deepest, most needy, and receptive parts of her.

Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, the way he had, she let the heat rage through her as his movements gained speed, urgency. The tightness bloomed inside her. It was about to happen, that wonderful sense of release. And as the thought reached her mind, it did happen, making her vagina spasm around him as he also let go.

Emptying himself into the condom, he let out a satisfied growl and slumped forward, carefully cradling her against him so he wouldn’t crush her. For a minute, they clung together, drenched and exhausted. He finally roused and pulled out of her, slowly lowering her until she stood on her feet again. “Bed?”

Betsy was too blissfully drained to answer, so she just nodded, relieved when he obviously got up the energy to do whatever had to be done to get them there.

Disposing of the condom, he picked her up, carried her out of the shower, and set her on her feet again while he grabbed a towel and slowly dried her off. Then he dried himself before tossing the towel away and swinging her into his arms again. Her hair was still damp as he carried her from the steamy bathroom and laid her in bed. Coming down beside her, he traced his hand slowly along the length of her body. “You get a top grade, you know.” He reached her belly and lingered there.

Betsy shook her head, trying to ignore the sexual sensations that his resting hand was already reawakening in her. “Only because I have such a good teacher.”

He stroked farther south. “Nope, it’s not me. You just have natural talent.”

She put her hand over his to stop its movement. “Do I? Really?”

“I already told you. Best I’ve ever seen.” Then he said the magic words. “And because you’ve been such a good student, maybe as a reward it’s time to review lesson two.”

Smiling, she released his hand. No way was she going to interfere with the movement of those incredible fingers during a lesson-two reprise. “Definitely yes. That sounds like a perfect plan.”

“Then let’s do it.” Grinning broadly, he reached over and banged on the wall behind the bed. “Hey, Mrs. Lattimer, time to tune in to the X-rated stuff again.”

Blinking with surprise, Betsy quickly sat up. Oh God, no. She pushed him onto his back, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t,” she ordered in a fierce whisper. “You’ll only get her attention if you do that.”

His teeth nipped at her palm, and she pulled it away from his mouth, frowning at him as she climbed onto him, straddling his chest to keep him still.

Grinning at her, he smoothed his hands down her sides and settled them on her rump, slowly massaging her until she squirmed with annoyance. Actually, with arousal, but she had no intention of letting him know that.

“Sorry, Betsy. We already have her attention. She saw me when I came in. Trust me, she’s back there.”

She shook her head at him. “Don’t be silly. Even she wouldn’t bother spending her time trying to listen to—”

There was a sudden bumping sound from behind the wall and something that might have been a muffled sneeze.

Betsy froze. Okay, so he was right. They obviously did have an unwanted audience only a few feet away.

Flashing her a victorious, see-I-told-you-so grin, Matt reached over and pulled a condom from her nightstand drawer, where he’d stashed a supply. “Neon purple rubbers today,” he called to the lady in the next apartment, waving the packet at the wall. “They glow in the dark so you can always find my most valuable body part.”

Betsy bit her lip to keep from laughing, but in the end she couldn’t control it, and the laughter came out in a long, hearty guffaw. “You’re impossible, Pollard.” She brushed tears from her eyes.

“Got that right, Kincaid,” he countered as he cupped her bottom and rolled over with her, trapping her beneath him.

Their legs tangled together for a moment, then he pushed away from her, quickly unsheathed the condom from its packet and even more quickly sheathed himself with it. “Okay, lady, here we go. Review of lesson two coming right up.” Catching her beneath him again, he flashed a smile that promised her another night of expert instruction.

Betsy pressed her head back against the pillow, stomach clenching in anticipation as she waited for the start of lesson two, the glorious lesson where they did it both front and back and then, without even using his hands, he kissed her down there over and over again until she couldn’t hold back any longer and shook uncontrollably with a third delicious climax.

She looked up at Matt, holding on tightly as he sank himself deep into her and began stroking in and out. Her body pulsed, writhing with desire, but her heart ached with a sudden sadness.

He was so kind, so funny, so sexy and so damn good in bed. If only he wasn’t gay, she feared that she could fall in love with him. Totally, insanely in love. But he was gay. Even worse, he knew too much about her, all her habits, failings, insecurities, imperfections. And there was one thing she knew with utter certainty. She could never allow herself to love someone who understood her that well. Never.