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That isn't true now. It wasn't true then. But I surrender to the roles anyway.
I'm the student, and he's the teacher. My innocence is as sexy as his knowledge.
Only I'm not a helpless ingenue. I'm aware of the effect I have on him. I notice the way his pupils dilate, the way his breath catches, the way his body tunes to mine.
I sit next to him. I turn toward him, and with a tentative voice, I ask, "What do you think?" I want his approval. I want it too badly.
He notices. He soaks in my need, lighting up from the inside slowly, one lumen at a time. He looks at me, all tall and proud and wise, and he speaks in a tone I've neverreallyheard on his tongue, one with the perfect mix of demand and softness. "Did you come out here to seduce me?"
"What if I did?"
Something in him changes. He shifts from the in-control man I know to the one he only is in my head. The man who ties you up then holds you all night.
The man who's strong for you.
His eyes fix on mine. "Stand up."
I do it without thinking.
He looks me up and down slowly, savoring every inch of my exposed skin. "Show me."
I hold his gaze as I undo the knot holding my top together.
The nylon falls to the ground.
His eyes dip to my lips, collarbones, breasts. "Show me everything."
I should be scared or nervous—I'm stripping for my best friend's brother—but I'm not. I'm perfectly in the moment. There's nothing between his request and my action.
I slip the bikini bottom off my hips and kick the fabric off my feet.
Jackson looks me up and down for a long moment, and then he pulls me onto his lap.
The book on his thighs falls to the ground.
My legs hook around his.
His lips find my lips. His hands find my chest. He kisses me patiently, teasing me again and again as I roll my hips against his.
Again and again—
Fuck.
I try to hold on to the fantasy. The image of his hand on my breast. The feeling of his cock hard between my legs.
But it isn't real. I don't have the sense memory. Only the poor substitution of ex-boyfriends.
The space slows me down, but not enough. I come fast. I always do with this one. It's too easy. A groove worn into my brain. A scene used too many times.
Especially with my last boyfriend.
But I push that thought aside for one more glorious moment. I soak in the sensations of my body.
The rhythmic contractions of the muscles in my core. The rush of blood and the release of neurotransmitters that fill me with pleasure and need.
That's all love is.
Neurotransmitters.
