Garret Holden and my sex coach are the same person!

The words race around my brain, chasing away everything else as I try to come to terms with this new discovery.

No wonder the voice in my ear always sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it. I’ve only spoken to Garret a handful of times and his part of the conversation generally consisted of one, maybe two words. Not enough to actually form a solid connection with his voice, but enough of one for my brain to know that it’s heard it before.

Still, I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.

Emotions I can’t even begin to unravel swirl through me in a confusing and complicated vortex.

Tension pounds against my skull.

Some of the romance novels I devour by the case load have pretty ridiculous plots, but I can’t think of a single one where the heroine gets sex advice from the man she’s crushing on.

The elevator doors slide closed, leaving Garret and me alone on the landing. He studies me, his expression calm, his eyes curious.

Clearly, he has no intention of making the first move. He’s leaving that up to me.

“I know who you are.” The steadiness of my voice surprises me, considering how shaky I feel.

Garret nods and glances down the hallway. “I’m perfectly happy to have this conversation right here, but since you have more to lose than I do, I think you may want to move this somewhere more private.”

He’s right. I don’t want to give him time to concoct some bullshit story, but the last thing I need is for my neighbors to hear that I’m having issues in the bedroom. God only knows how far and how fast that kind of news will spread.

“Fine.” I spin on my heel and make my way down the hall to my apartment, which is the furthest door. “Follow me.”

Garret doesn’t follow me, but rather walks right beside me. We’re close, so close that he wouldn’t think it strange if I happened to bump into him, something my body seems to think would be a very good idea.

Cool it, girl, I silently tell myself. Another complication in your love life is the last thing you need right now.

I sneak a sideways glance at Garret. With the tats that cover his arms and creep up the side of his neck, the too-long hair, and the heavily pierced earlobes, he looks like exactly the kind of guy my mom used to tell me to avoid. She’d take one look at him and claim that he’s a bad boy, someone who’ll introduce nothing but heartache and trouble into my life. Someone I should avoid at all costs. The type of person who should scare the hell out of me.

And while I’ll freely admit that I normally prefer clean-cut, non-inked men with a professional sheen, I’m not convinced that Garret is as bad as he seems. The few times we’ve interacted, he’s been the perfect gentleman. In fact, he’s been nicer and kinder than half the men I’ve dated.

And now there’s this whole No O thing. Sure, finding out I actually know my sex mentor is something I’m still having a difficult time wrapping my brain around, but on some level, isn’t knowing who it is, knowing we share some sort of connection a good thing?

And isn’t a connection, as well as a halfway decent orgasm, the one thing I’ve craved my whole life?

I stop in front of my apartment door and dig my key out of my purse while the different aspects of my personality argue with one another.

I slip the key into the lock, undoing the deadbolt.

Through the door, I hear a faint, excited whine. Harlan.

I turn to face Garret, lifting my gaze until it collides with his. “Um, before you go in, you should know that I have a dog, a big one, so if that’s a problem for you, you’ll have to wait out here until I shut him in another room.”

Garret shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and holds my gaze. “I like dogs.”

“Oh, good.” I should turn around and open the door, but I don’t. It’s like his gaze is holding me in thrall.

Without any conscious effort on my part, my left hand rises. My fingertips brush his warm wrist before my hand runs up his arm, tracing his biceps as he stares down at me.

Acting on instinct, I lean close, rising up on my tiptoes until my lips are just a whisper from his. Garret’s eyes continue to look deeply into mine as his warm breath washes over my face.

I don’t know how long we stand like that, toe to toe, nearly lip to lip. I don’t know who makes the first move, but one second, we’re two separate people and the next, our lips are sealed together.

His lips are every bit as warm and firm as I’ve always imagined they’d be. They move over mine with expert ease, sucking, nipping, teasing mine into parting. My arms slide up, wrapping around the back of his neck as I press the entire length of my body against his.

The hardness of his cock presses against my belly as his tongue grazes against mine, sending shockwaves rippling through me.

I feel his hands gliding over my hips until his arms band around my waist, pulling me closer still.

Feeling lightheaded and giddy, I match his tongue strokes with a few moves of my own, delighting in his groan of pleasure, something I’ve never made a man do before.

I could happily spend the rest of my life right here in this hallway with my lips attached to Garret’s.

I can’t hold back my moan of disappoint when he eventually lifts his head, breaking the kiss. He keeps one arm securely looped around my waist, continuing to hold me close as he lifts the other, using it to brush my hair back behind my ear.

“Erin, I—”

“Shit!” I yell before he has a chance to finish his thought.

I jerk backwards, breaking free of his hold and putting as much space between us as I can before my back comes up hard against my apartment door.

Confusion clouds his expression. His brows draw together. “What’s wrong?”

I barely hear the question. Blood pounds in my ears as I stare at the gold band wrapped around the third finger of his left hand. I’ve made some pretty big mistakes in my life, but this is the first time I’ve ever thrown myself at a married man. Not even accidently.

And there’s no saying that I didn’t know he’s married. That’s been one of the reasons I’ve never approached him, never tried to figure out if he was as interested in me as I am in him.

Even though I’ve never seen his wife, every time our paths cross, he’s wearing his ring. How the hell could I forget something so big?

My stomach rolls and pitches as I struggle to come to terms with what I’ve just done.

“Oh God.” Reaching behind me, I grope for the doorknob. “I completely forgot that you’re married. I’m so sorry. I just … I don’t know what came over me. I promise it won’t happen again.”