Page 30 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
“Everyone’s spice levels are going to be different. Anything outside of missionary might be spicy for some. Others might have a closet full of whips and chains. We’re all approaching things from different angles, and wherever you’re coming from, that’s okay. I still think everyone will get something out of this class.”
Her gaze lands directly on me when she says the word “everyone.” Or at least, it feels like her gaze is on me.
Is it hot in here? Am I the only one sweating?
I turn to sneak a peek at Connor’s face, only to find him peering down at me to check mine. I quirk a brow up at him. He holds up his hands and murmurs, “There are no whips or chains in my closet. I promise.”
I bite my lip to stifle a nervous giggle. All right, then. It’s going to be that kind of evening.
“Before we get started, let’s get to know each other,” Neda says, casting a broad smile around the room. “How long has everyone been with their partner?”
The man in the couple next to us speaks first. “Eight years.”
Oh shit.
“Fourteen,” someone says from behind us.
“Two of the best years of my life,” a woman says at the front of the room, placing her hand on her partner’s shoulder.
The instructor reaches our row and stares at Connor and me expectantly. We exchange a look, and he shrugs.
“This is our first date,” he says somewhat shyly.
A few of the couples around us cheer, and Neda gives us an impressed smile.
“Adventure. Good. That bodes well for your future,” she says mysteriously before whisking herself away to the front of the room.
She plants herself in front of the couple who’s been together for two years, and they stare up at her admiringly.
“So,” Neda says briskly, “tonight we’ll be focusing primarily on the concept of accelerators and brakes. Accelerators are things that heat you up. Brakes, on the other hand, are things that make you . . . not in the mood.”
My stomach drops. I’m not sure what I was expecting from a class called “Spice Up Your Sex Life” that takes place in the back of a sex-toy shop, but it’s only hitting me right now just how intimate these topics will be. Dangerously close to being too intimate to discuss with someone I’ve only known for a few weeks and shared a single kiss with.
But strangely, as Neda keeps talking, explaining examples of accelerators, nothing about this feels awkward. I can’t imagine being here with anyone except Connor. Instead of discomfort or strained silence between the two of us, there’s this buzzy excitement, like we can’t wait to get started.
Although, let’s be honest, the alcohol might have had something to do with that.
The instructor continues to wander around the room, this time handing out a worksheet to each of the couples. She places one of the papers on the table in front of us, and Connor and I exchange a look.
“Use this worksheet to start a discussion between you and your partner. It’s important to communicate about your accelerators and your brakes. Otherwise, you might not realize when you’re pressing both pedals at the same time.”
She arches a brow at us and then continues around the room, and a low hum of muted voices fills the air as the couples begin discussing.
Connor picks up the sheet of paper, scanning the questions before looking back at me. There’s a playful glint in his eyes, coupled with something curious, something darker. My stomach ties itself into a thousand tiny knots, and I lick my lips and nod for him to read.
His eyebrows shoot up, and then he smiles. It’s a rare smile, the kind that makes me want to melt into a puddle of warm mush. Then he clears his throat and asks, “What’s an accelerator for you? The examples are watching porn together, lighting candles, wearing lingerie . . . role-playing games?”
My mouth falls open. This. This is an accelerator for me. Hearing Connor’s deep voice rumble over each word.
I quickly pull myself together. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I look up at the ceiling and bite my lip, trying to look like I’m thinking. “Wearing lingerie,” I say finally. “And lighting candles. Porn is kind of take it or leave it for me.”
Connor nods slowly, and I can practically see him struggling not to ogle every inch of my body. “Lingerie is good.”
I laugh softly and take the paper from his hands. Clearly, we’re not going to get any further with that line of questioning. “What about your brakes? Knowing there’s a mess in the house, feeling like there’s pressure to perform? According to this, a car won’t go if you’re pressing the accelerator and the brake is still on.”
“Brakes?” He considers the question for a moment, then says, “If anything’s wrong with Marley. Or if I’m worried there’s anything wrong with Marley.”
