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Taming His Tutor(50)

By:Natalie Anderson


“No clue. We’ll be surprised together.” He laughed.

It turned out to be amazing—giant metalwork pieces showcased in a huge converted warehouse. Apparently the artist attended Joe’s most hard-core muscle training classes, and Abbi could see why he needed to if he worked on lumps of metal this size.

Joe walked around each piece with her, holding her hand. She had no idea what he had planned for tonight’s lesson, but her anticipation levels were rising with every minute. And her happiness meter as well, because the guy was gorgeously attentive.

He introduced her to the many people he knew, included her in conversations, sent her those warm secret kinds of smiles…and oh yeah, she was a goner.

But this was lesson four already. Four. What the hell was she going to do when they were over?

Determinedly she maintained her smile as they walked away from the group of people they’d just spent the last ten minutes talking basketball with. “You’re good at the small talk.”

“Media training,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

It made sense—so many of those NBA stars became celebrities in their own right, they probably needed preparation for all aspects of that. And Joe was more than a superathlete, he was megawatt handsome. “Every woman in the room is looking at you.” She lifted the champagne flute to her lips, hiding her slight jealousy.

“They’re measuring my height,” he said. “Wondering if my cock is in proportion.”

She nearly choked on the mouthful of bubbles.

“What?” He winked. “It’s true. Didn’t you?”

She knew she was blushing.

“Everyone does,” he drawled with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Guys in the urinal…”

“Arrogant man.” She swatted his arm again. “You think all the men are looking at you as well?”

Thing was, they were.



“You know, guys notice you all the time.” Joe leaned close to whisper in her ear, enjoying breathing in the soft scent of her. “You just don’t notice them. I guess you have too much going on in your brain.” He liked being here with her, having her with him.

“When I’m with you I can’t think at all.”

He laughed. Oddly flattered.

“I’m serious. It’s weird for me.” She laughed up at him. “I used to spend all my time overthinking everything I was doing or saying, but I get within three feet you, and I… I…”

“What?”

“I forgot what I was going to say,” she cooed and batted her lashes at him.

He chuckled, enjoying her joke. “Then go brainless,” he whispered at her. “Brainless for you is average intelligence for the rest of us. Puts me on a level playing field. And even then you still hit me with the hard questions. But when you let go…”

“What?” she breathed back at him.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You really are a charmer.”

She didn’t believe him? Oh, there was no holding back from touching her any longer. He’d tried—really tried. He’d maintained conversation, talked all kinds of art with her. Talked to other people about everything.

Now he ran his hand down her back. “What are you wearing underneath this dress?”

She said nothing, merely offered a coy smile.

Damn vixen didn’t need any lessons. She knew she was killing him already. “You’d better not be wearing panties,” he warned.

She merely shrugged those delicate shoulders. His gaze dropped to the rich, creamy cleavage that her low, scooped neckline revealed.

It was time for some payback. He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She didn’t resist, which he liked. He glanced around the room and found the sign he was looking for.

Two minutes later he’d bolted the door of the small office he’d spied.

“You know how to find the private places in art galleries as well?” she teased as he walked up to where she stood in the center of the room.

In answer, he dropped to his haunches.

“What are you doing?”

But even as she asked, so breathlessly, she widened her stance a little. Sweetheart wanted him to eat her out again. Even here. He’d known she would. But she wasn’t going to be quite so lucky this time.

“You’re wearing panties,” he growled.

A second later, she wasn’t.

He ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, then slid them between her folds. She was already warm and wet and ready.

He was the same. Only had to think of her to be hard. The last hour had been fun—anticipation adding to the pleasure of touching her now.

He spread her a little more, enough to reveal her sweet pink clit. Already it was peaked and swollen. He licked it, then sucked on it, drawing it out more. He wanted her unbearably aroused. As he feasted, he pulled out the little present from his jeans pocket. She might not have been up for something like this before, but she was now.