Page 40 of Race to Me

When she walks out, he turns to me with a wry smile. “She likes me better than your parents do.”

“She’s my favorite.” I nod.

“So, are they coming home soon? I didn’t make the best impression last time.” Foster says, his tone full of something I can’t quite place.

“Are you joking? That was so embarrassing.” I shove my head in my hands. “You were fine. It’s them.”

He throws his hands up innocently, adding, “Look, I get it. I’m not the normal guy that a girl from this neighborhood would bring home. They’re just looking out for you.”

I’m so sick of hearing that.

I change the subject, “Anyways, let’s get started. It’s already, like, six.”

“Have somewhere to be?” he wonders, biting his lip.

I brush my palms against my skirt. “Brett’s party,” I reply absentmindedly.

“Oh,” Foster grabs the notebook from his backpack. “Am I keeping you? I can do the project at home. I just didn’t want you home alone on a Friday night working on it.”

Seeing his hesitation, I grin. “I wasn’t going to go, so it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” I can tell he’s fighting to say this; he doesn’t want me to go anywhere. His eyes tell me everything I need to know, and the way we’ve kept slowly walking towards each other through this conversation also tells me where my mind is.

Foster steps away, but not before glancing at my lips and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Did you already finish it?” he asks, swallowing.

“Nope!” I grab out my color-coordinated notebook and hand him the assignment papers before sitting beside him on the bed, not caring that I set two chairs up at the desk already.

There’s about thirty minutes of us going over everything, mapping out the assignment, and staring into each other’s eyes before Ms. Rita announces she’s running to the store.

My heart races when we’re alone; just me and Foster. His hair is a disheveled mess after running his hands through it about a thousand times. I can tell he’s never been nervous before—it just doesn’t fit his extremely confident personality—but something about me has an effect on him.

I reach out my hand to touch his leg as he tells a joke, and soon, the serious work turns into a fun flirtation.

Then, it turns into something else ...

“Human anatomy and reproduction go hand in hand.” Foster says, smirking. “Do you know how it works, Skyler?” His eyes bore into mine, and I gulp.

“Of course, I do.” I reply, knowing the basics.

“From personal experience?” he wonders, a dimpled grin on his face.

Instantly, I’m putty in his hands. Mesmerized by his obsidian eyes and the way they always trail around my entire face, the way he looks at me like he’s trying to find something.

I try to hide my blushed cheeks with a blanket of blonde hair, but he moves it out of the way with his inked fingers. The moment his hand rests on my leg, my body tingles with pleasure.

“The human body is designed for sex, and even the slightest touch from someone you’re attracted to can send your nerve endings into a frenzy.”

You don’t say, Foster?“Mhmm,” I reply with a heady breath.

His fingertips glide above my knee, right under the bottom of my skirt. I can’t help but bite my lip. “Our bodies react, kind of like you right now.”

Our lips are a breath from touching, but he brings his to my cheek and plants the softest kiss. It doesn’t match the way his left hand is gripping the comforter like he’s about to rip it to shreds.

He climbs on top of me, placing himself between my legs. I can’t help but be turned on by the way he looks hovering over me. The way his hair falls over his face, how his silver chain dangles from his neck. “And as for reproduction,” He smirks again. I go to move, but he laughs, adding, “I’m just playing with you.”

My hand slides up the back of his shirt, and he lowers himself back down on me a little bit.

With a grin, he looks over my face. “But if Iwasgoing to explain it to you.” He repositions himself, and I feel his hard, thick length against my leg.

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