Page 27 of Tutored By the Smart Girl

“You asleep?” Rush's voice is a whisper.

“No.”

“How can someone as sexy and good-looking as you still be a virgin?”

I turn my head to look at him. “You don’t know that I’m a virgin. I never said I was or wasn’t.” I gulp air to fill my suddenly depleting lungs.

“You are.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You said you never had dates in school. Your mom wouldn’t let you because of your heart condition.”

My cheeks burn.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“How do you know I’m embarrassed? It’s dark in here.”

His mouth finds mine in the dark. I gasp at the gentle contact of his soft lips. My body tingles as electric shocks surge through me.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he whispers.

No one has ever talked to me like this— touched me like this. I want to trust him, but I’m afraid to put my heart out there and risk heartbreak.

He runs his calloused hands through my hair.

A pleasant ache fills me and for the first time in my life, I’m beautiful. I’m not the girl with the bad heart. I’m not the girl who can’t do things her friends are doing. I’m a woman being touched, cared for, and protected.

I melt into his touch. The closeness of his firm chest. We deepen the kiss. The only sound in the room is our mingled breaths and the rain as it patters against the windowpane.

Those butterflies return in force as his hand moves on the top of the T-shirt and his fingertips find my breast.

Rush groans. “No bra,” he whispers.

The hardness of his erection pushes against my leg.

Oh my gosh. Holy massive cucumber!

But I’m not scared when I’m in his arms.

He slips his hand under the oversized T-shirt. His calloused fingers skim my breast. Want and desire draws the breath from my lungs.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He chuckles. “I don’t want to stop, but?—"

He draws away from me.

I gasp. My body misses the warmth. “Why are you stopping?”

He lets out an audible sigh. “If I don’t get myself under control now, it’ll be even harder to stop later. I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want to do.” He brushes the hair away from my face, his fingertips barely graze my already sensitive skin. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me. I want this. I do.”

I won’t beg, but I know what I want.

“I want to touch you… touch you everywhere.” He rubs the back of his neck, almost as if by occupying his hands, he can keep from touching me.

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