Page 48 of Breakaway Hearts

REESE: Yeah, Firefly. You definitely do.

I’m about to type out another message, but then I notice the time on the corner of my phone’s screen.Shit.

ME: I need to go. I’ve gotta get to class. But Reese? Thanks. I’ve never really sexted before. Thank you for letting me practice.

REESE: Anytime. ;-)

The winky face emoji makes me grin, and I drop my phone back into my bag and head back toward the school building. I get to my classroom a few minutes before the kids start to filter in, which gives me enough time to tame my raging hormones and slip back into teacher mode.

I do my best to stay focused for the rest of the day, dedicating my mental energy to helping the students and keeping them engaged. It’s pretty easy to do, considering that teaching a roomful of third-graders sometimes is a bit like herding cats.

But when I finally leave at the end of the day, I can’t stop myself from pulling my phone out on the bus ride home and scrolling back through the texts between me and Reese. I flush as I read the one I accidentally sent him at first, the one that touched off the whole exchange. And as I scroll slowly through the rest, I can feel arousal building low in my belly again.

I can’t believe I sent these messages. It almost feels like someone else wrote them—someone much more daring and bolder than I am.

It sounds a lot like you want me to fuck your face.

I shift on the hard bus seat as I read that line over and over. No one has ever said something like that to me before, much less done it. Will that be part of our lessons? Do I want it to be?

Yes.

The answer comes so quickly that I can’t deny it, even inside my own head.

The sound of the bus’s hydraulics snaps me out of my thoughts, and I glance up to realize I’ve almost missed my stop. I scramble to my feet and pull on the cord to request a stop, then step off the bus when it reaches the next intersection.

I walk the few blocks to Reese’s house, my arms wrapped around myself against the chill, and then use the key he gave me to let myself inside.

“Reese?” I call out, closing the door behind me. “I’m ho—”

My words break off as I catch sight of him in the living room. He must’ve been reading or watching TV or something, but he stands as soon as he sees me, prowling toward me with an almost predatory stride.

I unconsciously take a step back, bumping into the door at the exact same moment that he reaches me. His palms press against the thick wooden door on either side of my head, boxing me in as he stares down at me.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Yes.” My own voice is oddly breathy.

“Really? Because I’ve been distracted all afternoon.”

“Why?”

He huffs a laugh, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I think you know why. You want your first lesson, Firefly?”

My pulse leaps, and I nod, my bag sliding off my shoulder and landing on the floor. A slow smirk spreads across Reese’s face, and he lifts one hand away from the door, toying gently with a lock of my curly red hair.

“Okay,” he says. “Dirty talk. It’s one thing to type it all out and send it in a message. But have you ever said those things out loud?”

“No.”

His warm brown eyes bounce between mine. “So give it a shot. Say something dirty.”

“Um…” I lick my lips. He’s right that there’s a huge difference between sending text messages and saying it to his face, because I can feel my pulse racing as we gaze at each other. Finally, I clear my throat and whisper, “When you left my room last night, I couldn’t sleep.”

“No?” He tugs gently on the lock of hair between his fingers. “So what did you do instead?”

“I… I touched myself.” My voice drops. “I made myself come again.”

Something shifts in Reese’s expression, his lips tilting up at the corners. “Greedy girl. What did you think about?”

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