Page 72 of His Reckless Freshman

He sighs, one of those heavy ones, like this is all too much and he wishes he’d never touched me in the first place.

Resting my chin on my knee, I look away from him, sniffing.

“I’m thinking I don’t want to let you down.” Flopping onto the bed, he softly nudges my leg with his finger. “Hey… I can still show you stuff, okay? We can practice until you feel more confident.”

“Really?” My voice picks up. “You’ll… do that to me again?”

“If you want me to.”

“Uh-huh.” Great, I’m going from a sulky teen to an eager puppy.

Ugh. I’m so⁠—

My phone starts ringing and I look toward my bag, wondering if I should ignore it. But Ben hops up and grabs my bag for me, which means I kind of have to answer it now.

Giving him a weak smile, I find my phone with relative ease for once and then wish upon every star in the universe that I hadn’t.

A pained wince crosses my face and probably comes out in my voice as I automatically answer the call. “Hey, Mom.”

Oh my gosh. I’m basically sitting here naked in front of a hot guy, and I’m talking to my mother on the phone!

Why… why… WHY did I answer it?

I am a crazy person, and I’m barely hearing anything my mother says as I flush so red, I’m surprised the entire room isn’t glowing.

Ben covers his mouth like he’s trying not to laugh and walks to the other side of the room to give me some space, taking a seat on the chaise. I trail his body with my eyes, drinking in his long legs and big, gentle hands, and that jawline. I mean, I knew he had a great jawline, but it’s looking even more defined and delectable in this light.

He really is good-looking.

I mean, I knew he was good-looking, but now he’s even more handsome somehow.

His touch has electrified me, and I’m sitting on this bed, listening to my mother and wondering if I’m starting to catch feelings for the kind basketball player who just gave me my first orgasm.

A giggle involuntarily pops out of me, and Mom stops talking.

Biting my lips together, I hold my breath as she huffs, then says in her gentle, reprimanding lilt, “Jolie Carmichael, this is not funny. Your father is very stressed.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, scrubbing my brain for any piece of information I can catch onto. Why is Dad stressed?

“You know he’s a perfectionist, and creating wedding invitations for a bridezilla who cannot decide on anything is very challenging.”

“I’m sorry. That is tough. But Dad is such a great designer. I know he’ll find the perfect thing to make her happy.”

“Yes, well, of course he will.” Mom lets out a soft laugh. “So, how are you, my darling girl? Are you having a better week? You must be flying after the wonderful article you wrote. I’m sure the team is so grateful.”

I glance at Ben, who is now lounging back on the chaise and looking at something on his phone.

“Yeah, I think they liked it,” I murmur, flushing even hotter when I think about the reason why I’m actually flying.

I just had my first orgasm! And it was amazing!

And he’s agreed to give me another one!

And I know you’ve tried to instill in me that this stuff is bad, but how can something that feels this good be considered wrong?

“You’re such a talented writer. Dad and I are so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I squeak, figuring that all their pride would disappear in an instant if they could see me right now. “Hey, Mom, I have to go.”