Page 4 of Pleasure Lessons

Her lips twist and her cheeks blush, but she goes on. “My father says I need to be a good wife for Arthur. That’s what he’s been preparing me for. That’s why I’m taking tennis lessons. But no one ever tells me what that reallymeans.” She closes her eyes. “You’re a man. I thought…maybe you’d know.”

Shit.

My muscles tighten. My fists clench. This is precisely the situation I didn’t want to get dragged into. And I should just tell her no and force her to get back to returning my serves, but watching her stand there, eyes down, hands behind her back–I just can’t make myself do it.

She’s too alluring. Too sensual. Every second that ticks by is me fighting a losing battle against my lust for her.

Silence passes between us. Finally, she looks up at me, her eyes filled with nothing but trust. So open, so sweet, as if she knows I would never lie to her. Like she believes me to be a goodman. When really all I can think about is all the terrible things I want to do to her.

“Well, I think,” I start to say, but my voice catches in my throat. I clear it and start again. “I think most men want different things from a wife.”

For the first time since we met, Cassandra looks at me with disapproval. “That’s not very helpful.”

“I–I’m sorry.”

She brushes her hair back twists her lips again. “What about you, Rhett? Do you know what you want in a wife?”

Yes. I wantyou, Cassandra. I want you right here, right now, barefoot and wide-eyed, with your skirt tugged down to your ankles, taking my cock doggystyle on the tennis court.

I swallow those words and try to focus.

This is a virgin I’m talking to. A homeschooled princess with no understanding of the real world. The world I come from.

“I think that’s down the road a bit, Cassandra.”

“What do you mean?”

I shouldn’t ask this, but I do. “Have you ever been kissed?”

Her cheeks immediately turn crimson. She blinks nervously and smooths her hair back, then shakes her head.

Damn. I knew it.

“Then maybe you should worry less about what men want and focus on whatyouwant.”

She stares at me like she’s just had an epiphany. Like I just told her she’s allowed to have an opinion on something. Like she has a will of her own.

“No one…has ever said that to me before,” she whispers.

That’s no surprise. This girl’s been kept like a porcelain doll in a glass case her whole life. Hidden away from the world, taught to be proper. Her world is high fences, private tutors, and all the best money can buy.

But money can’t buy self-understanding or self-confidence. You have to learn those. And I want to be the one to teach her.

No.

I back away, shaking my head as if I can shake her out of my soul, which she’s quickly embedding herself into. “We should wrap up…”

“Already?” she asks.

She’s obviously disappointed, looking at me like she doesn’t want me to go. I’m her only line to the outside world, and that’s a dangerous power. Especially in my hands. My rough, calloused, strong hands, just aching to scour every inch of her unclaimed body.

I toss the extra balls back into the basket, trying to keep my eyes off her hard nipples and the curve of her hips. I don’t even respond. I just leave the court and walk back up the path to where I parked.

She trails behind me, close enough that I can just smell her perfume. I can hear the rustling of her skirt and the sound of her feet as she takes each step. I’m so turned on that I’m hyper-aware of her, and it’s absolutely killing me.

Just get back to the truck and get out of here.

“You’ll be back tomorrow, though, right?” she asks when we reach the lot.

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