“I want you to be my sex tutor.”
Jason choked on his beer. “What?”
Chloe Harris waited until he met her gaze again. “So, will you do it?” The background noise from the crowded bar filled the charged silence as she held her breath, waiting for his answer. Country music blared from the speakers set around the dance floor. Glasses and bottles clinked. Conversations overlapped, individual words indistinguishable in the cacophony.
“Do what?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard right the first time.
She sighed. “Be my sex tutor.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you need a sex tutor?”
“To make sure I’m doing it right.”
This time Jason’s beer spilled down the front of his shirt. He dabbed at the spot with a napkin. “Dammit, this was a new shirt.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, his expression was pained. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this. Hell, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. But what makes you think you’re doing it wrong?”
She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. “I don’t know. I mean, everyone always talks about how great sex is, but to be honest, I don’t know what the fuss is all about.” Maybe it was her. Maybe she was doing it wrong. “So.” She toyed with the napkin under her drink. “It’s kind of on my bucket list. To have a night of really great sex.”
He closed his eyes again. It almost looked like he was praying. The dark sweep of his lashes curled over the lids. Why did men have such impossibly beautiful eyelashes, while women spent oodles of money on mascara and torturous curling devices? Obviously God had a sense of humor.
Finally he opened his eyes. Even the dim light in the bar couldn’t hide their vibrant blue. “Bucket list? You’re only twenty-six.”
“Twenty-seven. It’s just something I want to do before I’m thirty.”
“That gives you three years.”
“Well, there are other things on my list, too. I want to get this one out of the way.” To silence the ever-present whispers of self-doubt plaguing every relationship she’d ever had. She leaned closer. “C’mon, I hear you’re really good.”
The bottle froze halfway to his mouth. “Where did you hear that?”
“Maureen Brockman and Leslie Granger both said you were fabulous.”
With deliberate care he set the bottle down. “You asked them how good I was in bed?” The words were forced out between clenched teeth.
“I had to do my research. I want someone who knows what he’s doing.” She settled back in the chair. “So, will you do it?”
“You can’t be serious.”
Chloe lifted her chin a notch. “Why not?”
“Because this is totally insane. If you want to do something crazy, get a tattoo.”
“That’s on my list, too.” She looked at him, then down at the table. She traced the pattern of the wood grain with her index finger. “I just want to do this first. And I figured you’d be the perfect guy to help me.”
“What in the world would make you think that?”
“Well, for one, you’re a high school science teacher, so you know all about chemistry and stuff.” She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.
“All kidding aside.” Her serious tone underscored the words. “I know you. I trust you.” More than she trusted herself.
Something played in his eyes, but he shook his head. “Chloe, take a minute to stop and listen to yourself. You’re asking me to have sex with you.”
“I know.” It had taken months to work up the courage.
One Great Night - available now from The Wild Rose Press.