{Emma}

I toss and turn and still can’t get comfortable. Uncertainty gnaws at my insides. Why isn’t he trying to touch me? Sneaking in with an accidental thigh graze to test the waters so I can shoot him down? It’s like I’m not even here. With a fed up sigh, I flop to my back and stare at the ceiling. We’re acting like we’re married, not fake boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Are you done, yet?”

Is he serious? Why isn’t he just as anxious? I turn to my side, my back to him. Still nothing. Unbelievable. I jump to my other side. Oh, my God. His eyes are closed. “Ryan?”

He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes. “What?”

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

Okay, at least that makes sense. Sort of. Still, I feel like the fat girl picked last in gym class. He’s not even the least bit interested in me. I’m being rejected by the king of the nerds. Talk about a self-esteem boost. Here I thought I couldn’t feel any worse after Brad’s comments about me not being that hot. Ryan’s lack of attraction to me really drives home that point.

“But you can feel me.” I hate how pathetic I sound. Jesus, I’m practically begging him to touch me. Hookup sex is never about pride. I’m not afraid to admit it. I want him to want me.

This time he does open his eyes. “How can I not when you won’t quit bouncing on the bed? Is this what it’s like sleeping with someone?” He inhales sharply and tries to cover up the slip. “I mean, next to someone.”

Shock hits me hard and I swallow several times as I collect my words. “Are you a virgin?” He turns, placing his back to me. “Ryan?”

“It’s late.”

“Answer me.”

“No.”

“Oh, my God.” I slap my hand to my mouth. I’ve never met an adult virgin. They’re as rare as unicorns. “You’re like Steve Carroll in that one movie.”

“His character was forty,” he growls over his shoulder. “I’m only twenty-three.”

“Then we’ve still got time.”

He chuckles and rolls to his back. “I guess, since you’re my groomer or whatever you want to call it, I should be honest with you. No, I’ve never had sex. I’ve come close—in the literal sense.”

“Oh.” I drop my gaze and chew on my lip to come up with something to say. This has got to be one of the most awkward conversations I’ve ever had. “Get a little too excited, did you?”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this. I barely know you.”

“I’m your groomer. What more do you need to know? If you want me to turn you into the Delta dick of every woman’s dreams, I need all the facts. If you have a problem with preemie sperm spit ups, we need to fix it.”

He closes his eyes with a groan. “Can we please just go to sleep?”

“No. You’re not allowed to be in the same bed with a half-naked woman and not want to have sex with her.” When my comment doesn’t garner a reaction, I grab my pillow and smack him with it.

“Hey!” He jerks into a sitting position. “And you aren’t allowed to hit a blind man. That’s like shooting a guy in the back.”

I push myself up. “At least I’m acknowledging you exist.”

“Why are you mad?”

“Because I’m right here,” I point out through clenched teeth and even grab my boobs to demonstrate.

“What are you saying?”

“Oh, my God!” I thrust my fingers through my hair to pull it off my face. Could he really be this clueless? “We’re never going to get you laid if you don’t know how to make the first move.” I scoot closer. He stiffens. When I touch him on the shoulder, a nice little tent sprouts between his legs.

And keeps going. And going. My mouth falls open as I focus on the size of his rigid cock. No hella way. How does a nerd get so lucky as to have junk so big it should star in a porno?

I force my attention to his face. “Let’s start with the basics. Kiss me.”

His face falls slack. “You want me to kiss you? Seriously?”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to father my children. It’s just a kiss. Don’t think about it. Just do it.” He leans into me, his mouth wide open, tongue out. I stop him with my hands on his hard chest. “Whoa, there. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“You’re about to suck in the entire bottom half of my face,” I correct and run my hands up his impressive pecs to rest them on his even more impressive shoulders. I shudder and relish in the feeling, if ever so briefly. “Okay, let’s try this again. Keep your mouth closed this time.”

He thins his lips and then attempts to speak. “Like this?”

I snort and slap his shoulder, drawing a grin from him. “Be serious.”

“How about this?” He puckers up.

“You’re killing me.” I love how much fun he is. “Just relax. She’s going to be nervous, too. It’s actually better when she’s a little nervous.”

He loses the duck face. “Why?”

“Then you know she wants it as much as you do.”

“Are you nervous?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Oh, my God. You have no idea. I’m not about to admit anything. “Will you please focus?”

When he smiles, I return the gesture. “Maybe I should put on my glasses for this.”

“You don’t need to see,” I say as I stop him from reaching for them. He turns to me as I scoot closer. “You only need to feel. Now, reach up and fist my hair.”

He does and then yanks down, painfully jerking my head with the gesture. “Ow!” He immediately drops his hand. Jesus. I’m going to have to do everything for him. “Like this.” I slowly weave my fingers into his hair and gently squeeze. “See? No pain involved.”

A deep-seated groan escapes his lips. I’ve never had a guy growl like that when I touch him. It makes me want to take it a step further. I scrape my nails against his scalp and goose bumps pepper his skin. His head rolls in whatever direction I move my hand. The tent in his PJs stands at perfect attention. I so want to set him free.

But this isn’t about sex, not between us. This is about showing him how to be more like a Delta and less like, well, what he is. He needs to learn how to be a lady’s man. It may even turn into sex, but it’d be purely physical. I’m willing to take one for my gender.

“Now you try.”

He fingers my hair and massages my scalp. Oh, dear Jesus on a vine. That feels so good. When he fists my hair with a little more force than I did his and pulls me to him, slamming our bodies together, I lose my ability to breathe. He rests his forehead to mine. No words. He just rests there, waiting. The warmth of his breath tickles my face. The anticipation is killing me. I keep trying to lift my chin but he stops me with his hand in my hair.

Slowly, as if time doesn’t matter, he lowers his lips to mine and barely touches them. He then pulls back before doing it again. Chills whisper across my skin and tighten my nerves. My nipples twist as pulses of erotic energy attack my clit. My entire body throbs, and I squeeze my thighs together to ease the ache.

He traces my lower lip with his tongue, and I lose my mind. He’s not allowed to be able to tease like this. I grab his head and force him to me, kissing him so deep I swear to God I feel him inside me. His tongue is rabid, striking against my lips like an angry snake. I slow him down by directing the pace. He follows me and soon we have a nice rhythm. I could really get used to this. He tastes like a cross between beer and male awesomeness. After a breathtaking, mind-numbing kiss to gauge all future kisses, I end our make-out session and pull back.

“There,” I say, out of breath. Holy shit, I want to do that again. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been on a roller coaster. I can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s because all your blood is between your legs, buddy.” I pat him on the shoulder before squeezing it. He has damn fine shoulders. Damn fine shoulders. I squeeze them again and take my time tracing his muscles with the tip of my fingers. “See? You did that without—”

“Oh, shit.” He grabs at the tent just as he loses all control.

Oh, shit.

He jumps off the bed and runs out of the room. I feel bad for him. My motor may have started, but without a little fuel, it will die fast. Seeing how embarrassed he is from having an orgasm simply by kissing me kills my libido. Tonight can’t be about me. He needs me more than I need to come.

When he doesn’t return after a few minutes, I call out for him. He doesn’t answer me, no matter how many times I call his name, so I get up and pad out of the room. I find him sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. “Ryan?”

He doesn’t look up and just shakes his head. “Well, that wasn’t at all embarrassing.”

I sit next to him and lean my head on his shoulder as I take his hand. He tries to pull away but I won’t let him. I curl my fingers around his and stare at our hands together. He does the same. We sit there in silence. I don’t know what to say to make him feel better, but I want to. In the worst way.

“Emma,” I say after the quiet ringing in my ears is too much.

“What?”

“My name is Emma.”

“Emma,” he repeats, just as softly. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Because you had one preemie spit up? Oh, please. Like I’ve never had that happen.”

He looks at me. We’re close enough I have a feeling he can see me just fine. “How often has it happened?”

If I tell him a lot, I sound like a whore. If I tell him not that many, it discounts what just happened. I know when to change the subject to protect myself. It’s sort of like pleading the fifth, without having to be on trial. Besides, I’m not willing to admit to the fact I’ve only gotten one other guy excited enough to have him shoot off before we could do the deed, and that was in the tenth grade. “Enough to know better than to answer that question.”

He laughs and turns to me, leaning our foreheads together. “Thank you, Emma.”

“For what?”

“For not making me feel any worse than I already do.”

Don’t do that. Don’t make me out to be the good guy, here. I’m only doing this to get into the DASH. It has nothing to do with him other than the fact he’s a Delta. Even as I have that mental argument, I see the flaws in my reasoning. I offered to groom him in exchange for him getting me into the DASH.

“Anytime,” I whisper as emotions tighten my throat. I clear them and add, “I mean, after all, I am your girlfriend. Fake or not, what good am I if I can’t cheer you up, right?”

“Right.” He attempts a smile and fails. “Take the bed. I’ll stay on the couch.”

“The hell you say.” I stand, pulling him with me. We’ve just had our first moment and lived to tell the tale. I refuse to give up on him. More than that, I refuse to let him give up on himself. Something tells me he’s had a lot of people give up on him. I know from personal experience how much that sucks. “We’re going to sleep in the same bed tonight and every night until we get this down.”

“Do you really think we’ll get this in time for the DASH?”

I think about that. It’s only the first night. We have time, but not a lot. “We may need to pull some doubles.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

I lead him to his bedroom. “It means I hope you’re ready for round two, lover boy. We’re going in.”

“Emma—”

I turn and kiss him to shut him up. We make our way to the bed and, without instruction, he lowers me onto the mattress and covers me with his body. I’m impressed he even knows how to do that much.

His cock presses against my hip, and I shudder. That’s a lot of flesh. My body throbs in challenge, daring me to try and take him all inside me. It’s a challenge I’m willing to accept. He parts my lips with his tongue and kisses me like he’s dying for my taste and my taste alone. I shudder again as a soft whimper escapes my mouth into his.

Shock excites me when he pulls off his boxers and slips a hand between my legs. Every cell in my body hums with need when he cups me. I’m so wet, growing wetter by the second, as he kisses me like he’s worlds beyond me in experience. Damn, he’s a fast learner.

He slides his knee between mine and forces them apart, spreading me for him. I want to stroke his rigid cock in a pace I want him to take with his fingers inside me. But I don’t dare for fear of another preemie spit up. I want this session to last longer than it takes to boil water. In the microwave.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispers against my lips and my heart flutters. The innocence in his voice mixes with his fear and melts me from the inside out. I hesitate. This is his first time. It needs to mean more than, well, this. I can’t take his V card. He’s cute in his innocence. I want him to stay that way. Call me a hypocrite, but I don’t care. His first time shouldn’t be like this, with a stranger he brought home from a bar.

“We need to stop.”

“No,” he counters, breathless. “We need to keep going. Please, Emma. Tell me what to do.”

I give in without much if any, fight. He’s got me so turned on I’m seeing stars. “Take off my panties. Slowly. Tease me.”

He tears them off my body—literally. The elastic snaps and he tosses them aside. Holy heaven with handrails. That’s way hotter than what I wanted him to do. “Like that?”

“That works.” I’m breathless as he rests his lips on mine. I swipe my tongue out, catching his as he does the same. Wow, this is extremely erotic, kissing without using lips. I’ve never done it before.

He slips a finger between my saturated folds and sinks it deep into my pussy. He then presses the heel of his palm against my aching clit and angles his wrist, rocking his hand with perfect precision. Holy shit. Where’d he learn to do that? No one has ever done that to me before.

I writhe as he strikes gold, touching me exactly as a man needs to touch a woman to make her explode. He has me close with his steady friction. I grab his cock and squeeze before matching his pace with long strokes of my own.

“Emma,” he whispers against my lips. “Oh, my God.”

I kiss him and stroke faster. He follows my lead and rocks his hand in rhythm with mine. I roll my hips, grinding his palm as everything inside my body tightens, a burning need igniting a fire in my soul. Pulses of sharp energy attack my clit. I vibrate as my orgasm hovers just out of reach.

He flicks my clit with his thumb and I detonate. Crying out, I move my hips, riding my climax. I stroke his cock and he stiffens, hollering my name. We continue to rub each other, aggressive at first, but then both slow to gentle touches as we come down from our joint release.

“That was,” he says and gasps for air, “unbelievable.”

I have to agree. Even though it was a hand job, it was an incredible orgasm. I lay there as he leaves the room and returns with a towel. Ryan cleans up his mess before tossing the towel aside and joining me on the bed. He props his head on his elbow as he glances at me, still in recovery mode. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Ditto, Romeo.” I mimic his position so we’re face-to-face, close enough for him to be able to see me. Our noses are almost touching, our breath mixing as we pant. I don’t usually do the cuddle thing after sex—well, a hand job—but lying this close, feeling his heat melting into me, has me reaching for him. I run my fingers along his arm.

“Is this where I ask if it was good for you?”

“No,” I laugh and push at his shoulder. “You are never, ever allowed to say that to a woman. Got it?”

“Got it.” He grins as he stares into my eyes. I’m not at all uncomfortable as I stare back into his. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well, since we didn’t really do the deed, as a player, you’d try to get into my pants.”

He drops his gaze to my half-naked body. “You aren’t wearing any.”

I snort and drop to my back. “Oh, Ryan. It’s a saying.”

He rolls to lean on top of me. “I know. I may be a virgin, but I wasn’t born under a rock. Now can we sleep?”

“No more grooming?”

“Not tonight. I’ve just had two orgasms. That last one may have thrown out my back.”

I laugh louder and cover my mouth with my hand. “You’re such a nutjob.”

“For one whole month, I’m your nutjob.” He gives me a quick kiss. “Now sleep, my lovely, lucky gal, for tomorrow I shall make you breakfast.”

“That’s a terrible British accent,” I say and curl into him.

He laughs. “It was supposed to be French.”

“Even worse.”

He kisses the top of my head. “You should hear my Spanish one.”

“Please stop.” I’ll never get any sleep if he keeps talking. I love the sound of his voice, but I’m exhausted. If he keeps making me laugh, I’m going to want another round of lessons. For his sake, of course. It has nothing to do with the throbbing between my thighs.

“Yes, dear.” He wraps an arm around me and tucks the comforter around us. I fall asleep on his chest, a smile plastered on my lips.