Page 17 of Better Than the Beach
I shake my head quickly. “No. Just to, um, hook up. I don’t have a boyfriend, remember?”
His eyes bounce between mine, and when he sees that I’m not lying to him, he nods.
“Good. Okay.”
Nolan stands and helps me up, scooping me out of the hot tub, then grabs a towel and wraps me in it. Holding my hand, he leads me toward the house. Just before we get to the stairs, I blurt out a confession.
“I’m a virgin,” I state awkwardly, and he stops walking. “I’m a virgin,” I say again.
“You’re a virgin,” he repeats, and I watch as his eyes cloud.Shit. He’s going to bail.
“Yeah, but I want this,” I stress, fully expecting him to come at me with something likeare you sure, orsex is serious, orI don’t have sex with virgins. Instead, he just studies me, eyes scanning mine, running over my face. I have to remind myself to breathe.
“That’s why you have the condoms?” he asks after a minute. “To lose your virginity in Hawaii?”
He says it as if stating the answer to a crossword puzzle. He’s not judgmental, not shocked. It just...is what it is. His tone eases my nerves a little. If I was worried Nolan would judge me or think less of me for any of this, I was wrong.
“Exactly,” I say, then laugh lightly. “To a bartending surfer.”
He smirks, then sighs.
“I understand that you’re an adult, and you can make your own decisions, but I have to say—”
“I know,” I cut him off, feeling awkward. “I know. It’s just sex. It’s not a declaration of love or a request to date or whatever. I don’t expect anything from you beyond this. Just, um, a little holiday fun.”
“Holiday fun?” he repeats slowly, and I nod.
“Yes. No strings.”
Nolan is quiet for a moment, then he chuckles and takes my hands in his. Before he speaks, he holds my eyes and doesn’t look away.
“What I was going to say,” he repeats slowly, “is that I amnota bartending surfer. I surfed once in my whole life, and I swallowed about half the Pacific. I’m much more comfortable on ice skates than I am on a surfboard. I’m no bartending surfer...but how would you feel about an ex-hockey player turned soon-to-be-professor?”
I shrug and return the smirk. “He’ll do.”
He growls playfully, then bends down and throws me over his shoulder.
“He’ll do, huh?” I squeal, and he smacks my ass as he heads up the stairs. “I’ll have your head spinning with all the things I’lldo, Cassandra.” He drops me on my bed, my towel falling open to expose my naked flesh, then levels me with a wicked grin. “Call me Professor.”
Oh, hello, yes please.
“Yes, Professor.”
I watch as he unties his swim trunks and pushes them to the floor. His thick erection springs free and he wraps his fist around it, tugging twice. I’m naked, panting and squirming with need, and he chuckles.
“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he says slowly, eyes devouring my skin. “If at any point you’re uncomfortable or you want to stop, you will tell me, okay?”
I nod and he arches an eyebrow.
“Words, Cassandra. I need to know you’ll tell me if you need anything from me.”
I nod again. “Yes, Professor. I promise.”
His lips curl into a devious grin, and his eyes flare with heat.
“I’m going to take care of you. Will you let me do that?”
I nod again. I’m just a nodding, gaping, naked bobblehead.
