Page 73 of The Perfect Mistake

But I don’t say that. It feels…

Well.

Vulnerable, I suppose. To say those kinds of things out loud.

“Still shy?” His hand slides down my thigh, grabbing the back of my knee. He pulls it up and wraps it around his hip. “Maybe you can read some of those books of yours. Get some inspiration. Use their language.”

That makes my cheeks heat even further. If he only knew.

But the way he looks at me makes me think he does.

“What do you want to do next?” I murmur.

He shakes his head, but there’s a slow smile spreading over his lips. It makes everything inside of me tighten. “Sweetheart, every filthy thing there is. I want to make you come against my tongue again. I want to spend a night seeing how many condoms we can go through. I want you naked, pleasure-drunk, and tired in my bed.” He kisses me again, and it’s slow and deep. “But most of all, I want to learn every single way to give you an orgasm, so I can do it over and over again.”

It’s hard to breathe. Harder still to speak.

“That sounds good.” I lock my hands around his neck and kiss him. It’s starting to feel familiar, the strength of him moving against me and the rhythm of our kisses. It’s easy to lose myself in it all, in him, in the warmth.

My head starts to spin when he slides his tongue over my lower lip. I can show you, I think and wiggle my hand into the narrow space between our bodies. My heart is pounding out of my chest, but I do it anyway. I run my fingers over his length, trapped behind the fabric of his workout shorts.

He’s already half-hard.

Alec drops his forehead to mine with a groan. “Shit,” he says.

I stroke him again and feel his cock pulse beneath my fingers. He really does seem big, and apprehension mingles with excitement.

“Fuck. Stop, sweetheart. We don’t have the time.” But he groans again when I grip him over his shorts, and doesn’t make a move to stop me. “I hate that I have plans tonight.”

“You’re big,” I say.

He swallows. “Never compared it to anyone else’s. Fuck, Isa, I can’t take it. Not when I can’t take my time with you.” He steps back, a pained expression on his face, and rearranges himself.

That makes me smile. “Payback,” I say. “If you’re giving me ‘a task,’ the least I can do is make you hurt a little in return.”

He runs a hand over his neck. Something about the gesture makes him look younger. More alive, somehow, and I wish we didn’t have work to do today. I wish I could do what he’s asking, and show him what I want.

And maybe… maybe I can.

Because he’s working. But I have hours of free time before I need to pick up the kids, and I’ve never been one to skimp on an assignment. I’m an overachiever.

“Trust me, I am in pain,” he says. “But I’m used to it by now.”

Alec

The music is loud but bearable. The noise from the wall-mounted TV is another matter. There’s a deafening roar as England scores, and, despite myself, I can’t look away.

“Guys,” Connie says. My sister’s voice is annoyed. “Why did we have to meet here?”

“The game,” Nate says. My younger brother is back from London for a few days, and Connie had let it slip that they were meeting up for dinner.

I invited myself along.

She was surprised when I said it. She’d hidden it fast, but I saw the flash of it nevertheless. I haven’t been around much for the last few years. Can’t remember the last time we did this, met up just the three of us.

Seems like I should be better in all kinds of ways, lately.

“Since when are you a soccer fan?” Connie asks.

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