Oh, wait. It’s my dick that’s still hard. Overeager fucker needs to back off. “Kind of like dance moves? Like we’re going to a dance class?”
“Yes. Like we’re rehearsing scenes. Think about us as actors on stage. They’re not really fencing, but they’re going through the motions. Like stage fighting.”
“Or stage fucking?”
“Yes, not real fucking.”
I deflate. Fully this time. This is my unlucky day.
“Because that would be weird. How weird would it be if I asked you to do that?” She laughs, amused, it seems, at the sheer incredulity of someone ever suggesting that. More like sheer fucking awesomeness.
“Ha. So weird. I mean, right? Who does that?” I echo, like I can’t believe anyone would ever do that.
“Exactly.” Her face seems to light up with relief. “You hear about that happening. A friend asks her friend to help her learn the ropes, but it never works out if you actually go through with it. How could it? How could you practice with somebody and not develop feelings for them?”
I part my lips to speak but clamp them shut. Because I already have feelings for her. They’re developed. Past tense. So I answer by way of a shrug.
“Plus, what would happen to our friendship? And, of course, you want to be free to date,” she says, as if she’s offering me my greatest dreams on a platter—more dating with women who aren’t her.
I’d like to issue a correction: I want to be free to date you. Except Arden’s not even thinking along those lines, so I’m going to need to regroup and devise a different strategy to get her to see me that way. But one fact needs to be stated loud and clear. “I don’t need to date right now.”
She takes a step back, surprise in her features. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “I’m not interested in dating. Also, I can manage a week without it, thank you very much.”
“You sure?”
“Well, it’ll be hard. But I can manage.”
“But I still think it would be unfair of me to limit you. Besides, we’re basically going to walk through some naughty scenarios, like a few tutorials. You can guide me, and then I’ll have the knowledge I need to make better choices.”
She sounds like she’s talking about teen pregnancy. Better choices. Knowledge. “You make it sound like a PSA. ‘The more you know . . .’”
She laughs. “That’s because I’m totally inexperienced in this area. As an example, I’ve never made love outside.”
My jaw drops. “You’ve never ordered the sex alfresco?”
She raises a hand like she’s taking an oath. “Never have I ever.”
I affect a big frown. “You’re making me so sad right now.”
“You’ll take pity on me and help me test some new things?” She bats her eyes.
I drape an arm around her and tug her close, sliding into my best playful and friendly voice. “I will definitely take pity on you, my friend. But you do know you can’t practice having sex outside with clothes on, right?”
Laughing, she rises on tiptoe and plants a chaste kiss on my cheek, which I like far too much. “I know that. But we can test other things. And by simply testing, rather than actually practicing, we won’t ruin our friendship.”
Yep. This is going to be a tougher road than I thought. I need to buy some time to figure out how the hell to manage this new twist. “Let’s start with talking instead of spanking. How does that sound?”
“I guess spanking wasn’t the best way to start?” She fiddles with her watch, which makes me think she’s nervous about the whole thing. And I’m not interested in making her nervous. I don’t want her to feel awkward. The fact is, it takes some serious ovaries to ask for help in the boudoir. Now that I know what kind of lesson she’s after, I don’t think that launching right in is the best technique, after all.
“Spanking is a world-class favorite activity, and I guarantee you’re going to love it. But let’s start by getting out of here so we can discuss your ideas.”
There. That’ll help me to course correct.
She points to her purse. “Like the list I made?”
“I would very much like to see it.”
“Good. There’s a lot on it, and it’ll help if I bounce ideas off a man. I’ve discussed plenty of these things with Perri and Vanessa, but I want to get a guy’s opinion.”
“I’m your guy.”
She steps closer, squeezes my shoulder, and whispers sweetly, “Yes, you are.”
I’m her guy.
The guy she turned to.
I might not be the guy she wants for more.
Yet.
But the fact that she came to me for help tells me something important—she trusts me. That’s a start. A very important start, and one I can build on.
But first, I’m dying to know what the hell is on this naughty list.
16
Gabe
Lucky Falls is true to its name.
At least the falls part. The town is edged by a cluster of springs that cascade their way into a gentle river, the kind that sashays and slinks through the town, winding its way under bridges and past shops and markets.
After we say goodbye to our friends, Arden slides into the front seat of my truck, and we shift seamlessly to small talk about Vanessa’s event, as if we both know instinctively that this topic’s easier for the brief drive. When we reach the river, we park and walk down to the water’s edge, finding a smooth boulder. We sit.
Arden kicks off her sandals, her toes dipping into the cool, clear water that gurgles downstream.
The glow of the moon illuminates her face. I do my best to mask my disappointment. Because in a parallel universe I could see us sitting here on this rock and talking about other possibilities, about first kisses, where they might lead to.
Time for the main course of conversation. “All right. Let’s dive into this.”
She fishes into her bag for the sheet of paper, spreads it open, and goes into all-business mode. “I researched some books. Wrote down the items that most intrigued me. Here is my list. Do you want me to read it to you?”
Let’s torture myself some more. “Have at it.”
She clears her throat. “Nibbling and biting. We start with little nips and they’d probably lead to bites. Is that how the biting progression works?”
My body hums at the prospect. What I wouldn’t give to drag my teeth along that sweet flesh of her neck. To bite into her like a piece of ripe fruit, and savor the taste . . . “I believe that’s a fair description.”
“And it’s fun? Do you think it’s fun?”
“Is pizza the greatest food ever invented? Is beer proof of the evidence of God? Is Tom Cruise shorter than me?”
She cracks up. “I feel like that last one doesn’t quite belong.”
“Honey, he’s so much shorter than me. I went from yes, to hell yes, to hell-to-the-mother-fucking yes.” I figure the only way to survive the absolute torture of being her at-an-arm’s-length sex tutor is to keep it light and make jokes.
“Fine. I’ll just add three check marks next to biting, then.” Snagging a pen from her purse, she marks the item off on her list. “Definitely a keeper.” She peers at the next option. “Spanking. We’ve already talked about that.”
“And I’m looking forward to swatting your ass.” I rub my hands together, then mime swatting.
“My, my. Aren’t you eager?”
I point a thumb at my chest. “Big fan of spanking.”
“You are?” Her tone is drenched with curiosity.
“Hell, yeah. If it’s done right, it should feel good for you too.”
“I hope so,” she whispers, then ever so briefly she nibbles on one side of her lip, telling me that even though she’s never been spanked, she’s probably going to like it a hell of a lot.
“What do you think about role-playing?” Her eyes are wide and eager as she tosses out the question.
I think I’m already in love with her list. I’d like to give thanks to the heavens above that she’s a woman of books and learning, that she researched thoroughly and penned this most magnificent agenda. “What sort of role-playing do you have in mind?”
She taps her chin. “I could pretend that my kitty cat is stuck in a tree and you could play fireman coming over to rescue my—”
“Pussy?”
A sheet of mortification slides over her face. “Gabe.”
“Pussycat?”
“Gabe!”
“Fine, fine. Fluffy. I’ll rescue your Fluffy.”
She swats me. “That’s not much better.”
“Your furball?”
She balls her hands and pretend punches me.
I grab her fists and meet her gaze. “I think we need to add dirty talking to your list.”
“Do we?” Her voice is a little breathy.
“You need to be able to say pussy, cock, and dick. Can we get you there without you turning red?” Lightly, I run a finger down her cheek. Touching her feels a little illicit, but I figure I’m allowed some leeway, as this can’t be construed as kissing her.
Clearly.
And sadly.
She turns away, lifts her chin, and whispers, “Pussy.”
“Well done.”
She squares her shoulders, preparing for a challenge. “Cock.”
Mine rises to attention. “Look at that. You’re a natural.”
She turns to meet my eyes, hers a little fiery. “Dick.”
I whistle my approval. “You’re a master student at dirty words. All you have to do is say ‘Fuck me hard,’ and you’re going to pass this brief lesson with flying colors.”
She parts her lips, then shakes her head, perhaps a little embarrassed now. “I’ll save that one for another time.”
That saddens me, but all things considered, it’ll probably save me from hitting inappropriate levels of steel on the erection-o-meter. “Fuck me hard” is pretty much an iron-clad guarantee I’ll go off the arousal charts. I return to her list. “What sort of role-playing interests you?”