Page 34 of The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood)

“I . . . want your fingers inside me.”

I couldn’t believe I said it out loud, and my disbelief grew when he all but giggled with delight. “Right now?” He made a production out of glancing around. “Where anyone could see?”

I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded.

Electricity warmed his eyes. He fucking loved this answer. “We could get caught.” His voice dripped with sex. “Maybe that’s what you want? Someone to watch while I finger-fuck your virgin pussy?”

“Oh, my god,” I gasped. His dirty words and the visual it created were a punch of desire. My body wouldn’t allow any other answer. “Yes.”

“Bad girl.” Although he said it like it was the highest of praise. “That wouldn’t be moving too fast for you?”

“No. I mean, how could it be? The goal is to have sex. And like I said, I know I’m safe with you.”

My statement was a cool breeze washing over him. His sexy expression drained away and turned serious. Instead of touching me, he set his hands on the steering wheel and turned his attention forward. “I’m glad you feel that way, because you are. But while I’m safe for you,” tension curled his fingers tighter around the wheel, “you aren’t for me.”

“What?”

“This thing between us, it has to be about the lessons, and nothing more. Just sex.” He glanced at me. “I can’t date you.”

Was he telling me, or himself?

“Because you don’t date.” Except I’d seen him out on one, hadn’t I?

“No, because Colin would never allow it. Remember?”

I pressed my lips together as I considered his statement. I understood he was taking on a huge risk and life would certainly be easier for him if he steered clear of me.

And yet . . . he didn’t.

Was it possible he felt the same inescapable pull toward me as I felt toward him? God, I hoped so.

“But you do date,” I said quietly. “You were out one when you were seated next to me and my mom.”

“Yeah.”

That was the only response he was going to give me? My heart beat too fast for my thoughts to keep up with it. “Are you going to see her again?”

He grimaced. “No.”

“What about other people?” I dreaded what his answer might be. “Will you be seeing them,” I tried to sound casual, “while you’re giving me lessons?”

He turned his head slowly to face me, and his expression was unreadable. “No.” He paused. “And it’ll be the same for you.”

I was more than fine with that, but . . . “If we’re hanging out and fooling around, and we’re exclusive to each other, that kind of sounds like we’re dating.”

“No,” he grumbled. “We’re not.”

I stifled the urge to smile and lifted my hands in mock surrender. “Okay.”

He was uncomfortable with the label, and there was no reason to have it, anyway, since no one—outside of my parents—was supposed to think we were together. So, it was best to drop it.

But a sarcastic voice filled my head, drowning everything else out.

Every time we’d been together, he’d given me blistering, all-consuming kisses, but—sure. He could continue to claim we were just friends. It wasn’t like sleeping together was going to change anything.

Right?

TEN

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