The Learning Hours

by Sara Ney

  His warm breath doesn’t just melt my girl parts; it makes them squirm. Huge hands part my legs, the rough patches on the pads of his fingers a tingling contrast on my skin.

  He hasn’t even put his mouth on me yet.

  I crane my head to see what he’s doing, why he’s stopped. “Babe, what are you doing?”

  Trying to drive me insane?

  “Lookin’.”

  Lookin’. Oh jeez, that accent.

  “You’re so fucking sexy.” Lips kiss my inner thigh. Pelvis. Nose runs up and down my underwear, causing a loud gasp to escape my throat. “You already smell like sex.”

  Elbows bumping my knees apart, he slides his face home. Gets comfortable near the foot of the bed. Fingers pull the fabric on my underwear aside, tongue drags up the middle of my slit without preamble.

  Instinctively, I grab a fistful of his hair, spread legs already shaking from the ministrations of his tongue. Incapable of speech as he goes to town down under, my mouth falls open.

  No sound comes out.

  For the next few minutes or seconds or decades, I lay shaking on the bed as Rhett makes me come with his tongue, mouth, and fingers, his palms gripping my ass. Forearms keeping my legs open.

  My head thrashes, shoulders coming off the bed.

  “Rhett.” I want him to stop—stop and climb up my body and give it to me good with that hard dick of his. “I w-want…”

  His reply? Sucking harder on my clit.

  I immediately come. “Oh shhh…it…ohhhh…”

  Pound the mattress, trying to get a grip on my uncontrolled hormones. My quivering body feels like it’s hooked up to an outlet, hundreds of electrical bolts surging through it. Every nerve ending fires at once, and I lie here, shuddering. Tingling.

  When Rhett comes up for air, he wipes his hand across his mouth, creeping up my body. Lies on top, planting a kiss on my lips. Open-mouthed, I grip the back of his neck, pulling him in, tongues fusing.

  The weight of his body is like a drug, his dick sliding into the space between my legs but not inside me.

  Not yet, anyway.

  His lips kiss my temple. “Did I do that right?”

  “I think I just died.” My breasts are crushed against his chest and it’s kind of turning me on—again. I writhe beneath him. “This is me talking to you from the afterlife.”

  “I thought it would take you longer to come,” he admits.

  “Me too, jeez. That was embarrassing.” I sigh. Kiss his chin. “I was hoping it would last longer.” Brush the hair out of his eyes. “How did you learn how to do that if you’ve never done it before?”

  “Uh…”

  I narrow my eyes. “Do you watch porn?”

  His laugh is deep, amused. Guilty. “Sometimes, yeah.”

  “Good. So do I.”

  Rhett’s grin is so damn cute, my stomach knots. “We should get some sleep, huh?”

  “Yeah. I’ll go wash up and then we should hit the sack. The guys will be back in the morning.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

  When I roll away, he plants his palm in the center of my ass, smacking it. “Do we, uh, want to put our clothes back on?”

  I raise a brow. “Do you?”

  “Not really. I’ve always wanted to sleep naked with someone.”

  My brows go up. “This is a real night of firsts for you, isn’t it?”

  “You makin’ fun of me?”

  “No. If you want to be naked with me, then I want to be naked with you.”

  “All right. No puttin’ our clothes back on.” He helps me out of bed and I pad behind him into the bathroom, admiring his round ass, the muscles constricting in his hamstrings and quads.

  “Clothes would be a travesty at this point.”

  We go through the motions of brushing our teeth again. I leave so he can pee in privacy. Return to bed, slide to the far side, drag the covers up past my boobs.

  Fall into a blissful sleep.

  Laurel

  “God. I think I’m actually, you know…” I wave a hand in the air, unable to find the words.

  My cousin rolls her eyes. “No. I don’t know.”

  Is she really going to make me say it? Ugh.

  “I think I’m falling in you know what with Rhett.”

  “In love?”

  “Shh, yes.” At least, I think that’s what this is.

  He’s all I can think about; everything about the guy makes me so freaking happy I can’t even stand myself lately.

  “Instalove is so tacky, Laurel.”

  “I’m not saying that’s what this is. I’m just saying…I really like him. God, I cannot wait to see him, and when I do, I want to barf from all the nerves.”

  Alex stares. “You’re making it sound like you’re pregnant.”

  Why do I keep torturing myself by having these lunches with her? She’s not a nice person.

  I should be having this conversation with Lana or Donovan—or both.

  “Would you be serious for a second? And keep your voice down—this is how rumors get started.”

  “Why should I keep my voice down? You’re fucking a solid five on a scale of ten. I have a right to be upset.”

  I reel back, shocked. “What did you just say?”

  Her chin tips up. “You can do a whole lot better than the Get Laid poster guy.”

  I narrow my eyes. “He is the top wrestler at two D1 schools—that hardly makes him a charity case.”

  Why am I defending him to her? She’s being a petty bitch.

  Still, she’s my cousin; if we fight, it’s likely to get back to my parents, and I don’t want any phone calls from my mother.

  “You’re having sex with him. Doesn’t his face bother you?”

  I don’t correct her, just stand, gathering up my things. “What is your problem today?”

  “I don’t have a problem, but you? You need to get your eyes examined.” She bites down on a carrot stick, casually crunching down on it. “You’re slumming.”

  “I’m not going to sit and listen to you cut down who I chose to date. Rhett is amazing. I like him.”

  “Whatever.” Her carrot gets dipped in ranch dressing. “Are you and your boyfriend going to be at the football season opener party this weekend? Rhett is allowed out on the weekends, isn’t he?”

  “We’ll see.” I scowl down at her, fists clenched at my sides. “I might not be in the mood.”

  “Look at you, all in a snit.”

  “Do you blame me? You’re being foul.”

  “Whatever—I can’t help it that your boyfriend isn’t hot. That’s your problem, not mine.”

  “I’m leaving.” Take a few steps back. “Have a nice lunch.” Don’t choke on your unsolicited opinions, I silently add.

  She scoffs. “I will.”

  Outside, my back hits the brick wall when I pull my phone out, checking for messages.

  Rhett: Hey.

  I light up when I see his name, all the catty drama from my cousin fading fast, his ability to cheer me in an instant unfailing. My heartbeat quickens.

  Me: Hey yourself

  Rhett: You still on campus? I’m near the union, heading home if you’re heading that way anytime soon.

  Me: Perfect. Give me five—I was just having lunch with my cousin. Meet me by the main entrance?

  Rhett: Yup.

  I all but skip over, the sight of him leaning against the brick building, one leg propped against the wall making me giddy. Thumb moving over the screen of his phone, his head is bent, a button-down shirt over a plain t-shirt and jeans a departure from his usual hoodie. Backward cap, this one from Iowa.

  It looks new.

  He looks nice.

  Cute.

  I speed walk that way, happy to see him. Rise on my toes, plant a kiss right on his lips. It takes him a full three seconds to respond, hand sliding around my waist, pulling me in. Pressing his lips to mine.

  PDA—it’s about damn time.

  We start off, his arm st
ill slung around my middle, and I hunker down under his armpit. It’s cold and I’m not wearing a jacket, but Rhett’s kicking off more heat than a radiator—not to mention, I love being glued to his side.

  “You smell good,” I blurt out, the raging hormones inside me needing to chill the fuck out already.

  I preen when he kisses the top of my head, pleased he’s starting to get the hang of this dating thing.

  “What’s going on this week?”

  “I have a meet, remember? It’s home, but it’s a big one, so I won’t be able to see you much. We have to eat together and study together this week. Coach is still pissed about all the hazing shit.”

  “What did he say about the cabin?”

  “He hasn’t said anything directly to me yet, but I know he’s pulled Osborne and Daniels into his office a few times.” He laughs. “Those assholes never even came back to the cabin Sunday morning.”

  “Thank God everyone else did.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So how does your coach know everything got resolved?”

  “Pretty sure a few of the guys made up some kumbaya bullshit about bonfires and trust falls.”

  “And he bought it?”

  Rhett shrugs. “Guess so. He hasn’t suspended anyone.”

  Six of the twelve wrestlers had returned the following morning, just in time for breakfast, wielding three dozen donuts and bottled waters and making a serious effort to put all the bullshit behind them. Then, after spending some time down by the pier, fishing, and hanging out, we all caravanned home. Spent the rest of the night cleaning the grease off my car.

  Ambling leisurely all the way back to my house, we reach the concrete walkway, taking each concrete step one at a time. It’s a tiny porch with little room for multiple people, so I’m leaning against the screen door.

  “You want to come in for a little bit?”

  He worries his bottom lip. “No, I should get home. I only have twenty minutes to eat, change, and head to the gym. Practice until ten.”

  I scrunch my face up. “When is your meet? I’ll probably bring Lana and Donovan if they’re not working—I hate the thought of sitting by myself.” And no freaking way am I sitting alone in the student section, not after seeing all those signs, all those girls.

  “Saturday mornin’, early. Matches start at nine. We have to be there at five.”

  I rack my brain, mulling over my schedule. “I have a study group at ten, but I’ll skip it.”

  “Don’t skip a study group to come see me; there are still a few home meets you can catch.”

  “I know, but I want to. I’ll make it work.” I pause. “So curfew tomorrow night, yeah?”

  “’Fraid so.” He’s pressing into me now, smiling down at me with those pretty white teeth. “I have to be home by nine and stay there.”

  “So we’ll just have to do something at your place? That’s allowed, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s allowed.” Nuzzles my neck. “What should we do?”

  “It’s supposed to rain—we can watch movies?”

  “Netflix and chill?”

  “Yes.” One hundred percent yes to the fooling around during the movie.

  “Damn.” He grins. “I’ve always wanted to Netflix and chill.”

  “Are people still calling it that?” I tap my chin, feigning indecision.

  “I doubt it. I was never cool to begin with so I have no idea what people are doing.” His pelvis meets mine, the hard-on in his jeans pressing into my stomach. I’m tempted to run my hand along the denim fabric, drive him a little bit crazy before he has to leave. “I should leave.”

  My chin tips up, lips straining toward his face. “You sure you don’t want to come in?”

  “Can’t.” He swallows. “I’m already runnin’ behind.”

  “Then get going—don’t make me the reason you’re late.”

  The last thing I want is him in trouble with his coaching staff because he stood on my front porch flirting. “Go. Get.”

  “All right.” His head bows the barest of a fraction. “Tu me manques.”

  “Same.” With every rush of wind, Rhett’s hair wisps around his goofy ears.

  He laughs against the crown of my head. “You don’t even know what I just said.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Kisses my hair. “You are really something, do you know that?”

  “I try.” I’m really trying to be the kind of woman Rhett deserves, someone honest who loves him for who he is.

  “I should go.”

  “Kiss me before you do?” Asking gets easier and easier, and he’s happy to oblige. “How do you say it in French?”

  “Embrasse moi.”

  “Embrasse moi,” I echo, parroting his inflection down to the syllable.

  “Very good. You’re a natural.”

  “Embrasse moi.”

  He does.

  He kisses me and kisses me good, like he means it, right in the middle of my porch, in the middle of the day, like he’s not going to see me for the rest of the year.

  My toes curl inside my boots, all the tingles, tongue curling around his. Open-mouthed making out, neighbors be damned.

  When he pulls away, we’re breathless, steam rising from the cold. “See you tomorrow night?”

  “Yes please.”

  I watch his firm ass swagger down the sidewalk with a few long strides, backpack slung over his shoulder. Watch as he stops and turns.

  “Laurel?”

  Jeez, why is my heart pounding so hard? I can hear it in my ears.

  “Before, when you couldn’t understand what I was saying?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I said I missed you.”

  My teeth bite my lower lip. Grin like a fool. “I missed you too.”

  Rhett: What did you end up doing tonight?

  Me: A paper—the one I was going to study group for on Saturday. Trying to make up for the lost time.

  Rhett: I’m really okay if you skip it.

  Me: Is it weird to admit that I might have been Googling you to watch your old matches?

  Me: Once…or twice.

  Rhett: Really? When?

  Me: After I found out your last name. I watched your matches on the internet, then I looked up pictures of you.

  Does that weird you out?

  Rhett: That you took an interest in what I was doing? No, not at all. I’m flattered.

  Me: You’re incredible. It’s no wonder they wanted you to come to Iowa. I imagine Louisiana was pissed when they lost you.

  Rhett: Yeah, basically. It was rough. It was a shit show when I told everyone I was transferring.

  Me: I’m sorry :( I know if must have been a hard choice.

  Rhett: I still can’t believe I transferred.

  Me: Are you happy you did?

  Rhett: I am now.

  Me: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

  Rhett: Me either. 6:00? Too early?

  Me: No, perfect! I’m dying to see you. See you tomorrow <3

  Laurel

  I’ve been anticipating this moment all day—maybe longer. Nerves have me fiddling with the hem of my gray shirt, tugging it down over the waistband of my jeans though it’s cropped.

  Half boots.

  Cute.

  Self-consciously, I wonder if I should have worn yoga pants. After all, we did say we were going to watch movies, and I don’t plan on doing that particular activity in the living room where his roommates can bother us.

  I’ve had just about as much Rex Gunderson as a girl can take.

  I ring Rhett’s doorbell, stuff my hands in the pockets of my khaki green jacket. Paste a smile on my face when the door cracks open and Eric Johnson’s mug peers down at me through the screen.

  “Sup Fire Crotch.”

  My eyes narrow. “Fire Crotch? Really? You’re taking it there, huh? Right to my face?”

  He shrugs, pushing the door open, letting me enter. “Why not?”

  “Most people wait a few w
eeks—you know, until they get to know me better.”

  “Guess I have bigger balls than most people.”

  I doubt that. “Guess so.” Glance around. “Rhett’s home, right?”

  He closes the door behind us, pointing. “Bedroom.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Make good choices,” he says at my back when I hit the hallway. “Or don’t.”

  Rhett’s door is ajar, and I give two soft taps to the frame. “Knock, knock.”

  He’s at his desk, shoulders hunched. Head bent. Looks up, startled. “Hey! Shit.” Stands, shoveling a stack of papers before pushing back from the table. “I must have lost track of time.”

  “Grading papers?”

  “Oui.”

  I practically purr, already excited to be in his bedroom. Drop my purse and meet him halfway so he can drop a kiss on my lips. Scan the bedroom, eyes hitting the bed first, of course.

  He’s tidied up.

  Rearranged the room, bed pushed against the far wall. Dresser opposite, television perched on top. Moved the desk next to the closet.

  My jacket comes off and I hang it on his desk chair, plopping down to remove my shoes. Without them, I’m an entire three inches shorter.

  “Did you eat?” he asks. “Don’t say pizza.”

  “Haha. Yes, I had some chicken bake Donovan threw in a crock pot this morning before class with white rice and canned veggies.” I pull a face. “Did you eat?”

  “Shit tons of water.” He laughs. “Bagel, peanut butter, fruit. I’ll probably get up to pee a lot and should eat again before bed.”

  I crawl on the bed, flopping down on his pillows. Lean over and take a whiff, wanting to bury myself in the smell of him.

  My shirt drifts up when I roll to my back, baring my flat stomach; his brown eyes fall onto my pale, smooth skin. I smile. Cross my arms behind my head, letting him look.

  I’m nice like that.

  “Aren’t you exhausted?” I wriggle my toes, elongating my body on the bed, raising my arms into a stretch. “Let’s watch a movie. Come lie down by me, your pacing is making me nervous.”

  It’s not; I just want him to lie down so I can touch him. Get this whole pretense of watching television over with so we can fool around.