Under Pressure (Lessons Learned Book 1)

by Smartypants Romance

  “I didn’t mean it as a criticism. Just that I didn’t actually know anything about you.”

  “So what do you think of me now?” The question slips out before I can contain it. “You know what, never mind.” I stride across the room and grab my own bag, but when I turn around, she’s blocking the door.

  “Oh, no. Turnabout is fair play. Why do you care what I think? If I had to answer your question earlier, you have to answer mine.”

  I approach her but she holds out a hand to stop me before I can reach her, narrowing her eyes. “And don’t think you can kiss me to distract me.”

  I shrug, even though that’s exactly what I planned to do. “I don’t care,” I say finally.

  She raises an eyebrow. “You asked me to spill my secrets.”

  Yeah, when it was her confessing, not me. “I don’t have any secrets.”

  She stares at me, the slight enjoyment on her face at turning the tables on me gradually dropping. “I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you, Tyler. Or trap you or trick you or whatever else you think I’m doing. I’m just asking you to admit that maybe you care about me a little.”

  I tamp down the panic that immediately rises within me. Mia’s never expected anything of me before. I’ve told her flat out I don’t do girlfriends and she was okay with it. “We’re friends,” I settle on. That’s all I’m willing to concede and she must sense that because she receives it happily.

  “Now was that so hard?” she asks, taking a cookie out of the container and stuffing it between my lips.

  “What’s with the cookie?” I mumble between bites.

  “Your reward for good behavior.”

  She saunters out and I can’t help but smile at her pluck. The Hufflepuff’s hitting her stride.

  Chapter Ten

  Mia

  “Breathe in on a count of five, then exhale on the same count. Let your breath serve as a clearing of the mind, of the body. Release all negative thoughts.”

  I do as the calm voice coming from my phone tells me, trying my best to focus. I actually really like this new meditation app. And on any other day, I would truly appreciate it.

  But every time I close my eyes, all I can recall is that kiss from two days ago. The way Tyler’s mouth felt on mine, his lips both soft and firm, taking from me, encouraging me to give back as well. How his palm had run up my thigh, urging me to wrap my leg around him. He’d been hard against me, exactly where I’d needed it. Every time my breasts had brushed his chest had been pure sensation, and when he’d finally put his hands on them…

  No, no. I’m supposed to be calming myself down, not working myself up. I need to keep on top of my meditation practice to prevent another anxiety attack like the one in the lab the other week. I can’t have that happen again.

  But how can I focus on anything but Tyler? I’ll be seeing him again this afternoon for our Thursday round of participants. And he had suggested that… what was it he called it? A mutually beneficial arrangement. He wanted to kiss me in places other than my mouth. Just the thought sends a zing through me.

  He might be attracted to you, but don’t forget that he didn’t say he cared about you.

  He said we’re friends. Caring is implied.

  He doesn’t do girlfriends either.

  I never said I was looking for a boyfriend. I could play this game where we just casually hook up, right?

  But is it casual when we work together? And spend time with one another outside of class too? When I think about it, he’s actually the person I’ve been spending the most time with lately. Even more than Kelsey, the person I actually live with.

  I sigh, trying to tune back into the app, but it’s not working. Maybe boxing would work again. When he’d left me alone the other night to hit the punching bag, once his hands were off me and I wasn’t all caught up in my head, it had been exhilarating. And the harder I punched, the more my mind cleared, till it was only me and the bag. Tyler was onto something with the physical activity.

  I turn off the woman’s monotone voice from my phone and roll up my yoga mat. I think I’ll make those lemon blueberry cheesecake bars I mentioned the other day. Baking always relaxes me. That’s just a different form of meditation, right?

  I close the door behind our last participant and return to my desk to pack up my stuff, glad to be done for the day. I keep my gaze focused on my backpack, straining my eyes in an attempt to see Tyler out of my peripheral vision, but it’s no use. All I’m doing is giving myself a headache.

  I swear I’ve seen him watching me today out of the corner of my eye, but every time I peek over, he’s very deliberately staring at his computer screen. Or the floor. Or the wall. Anywhere but me.

  His purposeful avoidance has to mean something, right? Or is that delusionally wishful thinking?

  I sigh, knowing I need meditation to get him off my mind, but can’t focus on it long enough because of him. It’s a vicious cycle.

  “How much is a membership at your boxing gym?” Maybe I should follow his cue and start that up regularly.

  “Why?”

  “I’m interested in joining.”

  He grins. “What?” When he sees my seriousness, the grin drops. “Wait, you’re serious?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Mia, no offense, but they’re never going to let someone like you join.”

  I drop my bag back down on my desk, indignant. “That’s discrimination. They have to let girls join.”

  “We actually have a few women.” His gaze rakes me up and down. “But they don’t look like you.”

  My breath catches at the shift in his tone, his body language. “What do I look like?”

  “Soft. Sweet.” He comes closer, toying with a curl that’s escaped my ponytail. “Hufflepuffs don’t punch people for fun.”

  I resist the urge to sway toward him. “I don’t want to punch anyone, just the bag.”

  “And that’s the difference.” He drops the curl but doesn’t step away.

  I brush it back behind my ear, struggling to focus on anything but how close he is. How good he smells. How if I stepped just a couple inches forward…

  Oh God, he’s taken over my brain.

  “I was, um, trying to meditate this morning, but I couldn’t concentrate. When I was punching the bag, though, it was easy to clear my mind.”

  He nods. “So you need something to help clear your mind?” He comes in even nearer, skimming a hand down my back until it rests perilously close to my ass. I almost go on my tiptoes just so he’ll touch it.

  “Uh-huh.” Is that my voice that sounds so breathless?

  “You never answered my proposal.”

  I lick my lips and his gaze zeroes in on the action. “The mutually beneficial arrangement?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  You mean the thing I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last two days? That thing? “I’m game for it,” I blurt out, unable to resist the temptation.

  “Good,” he whispers, using his hand to press me into his body as he lowers his head down to my mouth.

  He kisses me hungrily, his other hand coming up to cup the back of my neck so I feel like I’m surrounded by him. Consumed by him.

  How does this keep happening here in the lab? I’ve never in my life thought of psychology labs as arousing, and yet this is the third time we’ve kissed in here. I’m going to develop a Pavlovian response where just the sight of the Stress Lab turns me on.

  I can’t complain, though. Everything I do with him seems to be on another level. I’ve been with a few guys, but there was never this immediacy, this need-to-have-you-now feeling. I didn’t know I could inspire this kind of heat, especially with someone as hot as Tyler.

  He’d seemed so surprised last time we spoke that I’d initially been attracted to something other than his looks. He said he doesn’t do girlfriends, but has he ever had one? Anyone that got to know him? Appreciate him for what was inside?

  Because once I finally cracked that hard
outer shell, I’m finding more and more glimpses of a gooey center. The way he softened at Muffin. The way he helped me out of my anxiety attack. The way he offered to teach me boxing.

  The way he didn’t want me to date Brad.

  He might have acted like it was purely professionalism on his part, but I saw the look in his eye. Even if he won’t say it, there has to be caring there. Maybe it’s buried too far in his subconscious for him to recognize, though.

  But one thing he’s not afraid to admit is this attraction. And with him being so straightforward, there’s no chance for my inner critic to doubt it. Not with the way his tongue is sliding against mine, his strong hand massaging the back of my neck, making me go boneless.

  He urges me to hop up on the desk and I gladly comply, his hands continuing to roam my body.

  “I didn’t get to touch you last time,” he whispers as his palms settle on my chest. I do my best to contain the keening sound that wants to escape, but some still manages to leak out.

  “You liked it here before too.” The erotic tone of his voice combined with the way he gently squeezes me has me squirming. “Are your nipples sensitive?”

  “Tyler!” I startle back.

  “What?” He grins. “I can touch them, but I can’t talk about them?”

  “I—” He actually makes a valid point. But I’ve never had a guy ask me such a direct question about my body, even in the thick of a sexual encounter. “They are,” I whisper. “Sensitive, I mean.”

  “Unbutton your shirt,” he says, leaning back.

  I gape at him. “What?”

  “Unbutton it,” he repeats casually. “I wanna see how sensitive they are.”

  My eyes dart around the lab, as if someone is lying in wait. “We can’t do this here. Someone could catch us.”

  He strolls over to the door and flicks the lock, his eyes hot on me as he turns back around. “Better?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He comes in closer, placing his hands on either side of me on the desk, leaning in until his lips tickle my ear. “I said I’d kiss you anywhere you want. Would you like that?”

  He keeps his hands on the desk, crowding me but not touching, putting the ball in my court. Do I want him to do that? Right here in the middle of the lab? Is it wrong that that makes it seem even hotter?

  I unbutton the first button of my Oxford shirt with trembling fingers. His gaze narrows on the sliver of my chest I uncover, his lips parting when I unbutton the next. His reaction spurs me on to do the third and fourth in quick succession, his hands gripping the desk tightly, the fifth and sixth making his breaths pick up.

  I slowly part the shirt open, revealing my pink pushup bra that I thank God I decided to wear rather than the ratty one I don most days of the week that has the underwire sticking out.

  He spends a few moments simply gazing at my chest, his stare like a physical touch. The longer he looks, the harder it is to breathe, until I’m practically spilling out of my bra with how rapid my chest’s working.

  He takes my mouth in a fervent kiss, his palms finally cupping me, so blessedly sure in their touch that I groan in relief. His thumbs dip down into my bra cups, lightly circling my nipples until they’re hard buds, my breaths coming so quickly I’m practically panting.

  He positions my arms back behind me, hands flat on the desk, and angles me backward so my torso’s at an incline, leaning over me, and pulls the cups of my bra down until I’m finally exposed. He bends down, his tongue gently lapping at me, so at odds with the need-it-now pace of before that it has me straining toward him, desperate. I push out my chest so he’ll take more in his mouth and he leans back slightly, grinning. “Patience, Mia.”

  I make a garbled sound of dismay as he switches to my other breast, carefully attending to it at the same rate. He knows exactly what to do to get me hot and bothered, the sensation of his tongue both wonderful and cruel. It only leaves me wanting more.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  “Are you begging?”

  “If that makes you go faster, then yes.”

  He chuckles, then increases the intensity, drawing a long moan from me.

  “Shh,” he gently chastises and I clamp my mouth shut, remembering we’re in the Stress Lab. Anyone passing by in the hallway could potentially hear me.

  How does this man scramble my brain enough for me to forget that?

  “Next time, when we’re alone, you can be as loud as you want.”

  I stiffen, my face heating in embarrassment.

  You’ve really done it now. He thinks you’re a freak carrying on all over the place like that.

  He glances up and stops what he’s doing when he sees my reaction, coming up to cradle my jaw. “Hey, no.” He lays a gentle kiss on my lips, coaxing me back into the mood again. “I like hearing you. If it were up to me, you’d be screaming my name.”

  His words have the intended effect, relaxing me, and I attempt a smirk. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Only a matter of time,” he says, lowering himself to my chest once again, sucking on me now, giving little nips and kisses that have me wriggling, frantically seeking relief.

  I throw my head back, unable to take watching his dark head at my breast any longer. How eager he looks. How completely focused on his task he is. How goddamn amazing his mouth feels on me.

  One of his hands slides down my stomach until it rests directly over my core and he softly teases the seam of my jeans, right where I need him.

  I bite my lip, holding back a groan as he increases the pressure on my breasts while still lightly caressing me over my pants, the dual sensations of forceful up top and idle below making me want to truly scream.

  He makes a strong tapping motion then directly over my clit, the area so sensitive and ready that it takes almost nothing for me to come. “Oh! Oh, God,” I breathe out, unable to stay completely silent, my hips lifting off the desk, my back bowed as he continues tapping that spot just right.

  I shudder in his arms until I come down from my high, dragging his head up to kiss him greedily, wanting to show him just how much I enjoyed that, burrowing my fingers in his hair, keeping him close to me.

  “That was amazing,” I whisper. “Did you want me to…” I drift my hand down his hard body until it meets his equally hard cock, tenting the front of his jeans, and stroke him lightly over the material.

  He leans back, eyes closed and lips parted in what looks like bliss, then shakes his head, stepping away. “No,” he says roughly. He clears his throat and gives me a sidelong glance. “I mean, I have to go. I have plans.”

  “Oh, okay.” I quickly bring the sides of my shirt together to cover myself, the mood of the room changing. Awkwardness descends over me and I look down at the floor.

  You must have done something to mess it up. He doesn’t even want you to touch him.

  A hand on my chin lifts my face up, and he kisses me softly. “I’ll see you later,” he says, grabbing his bag to head out the door.

  I sit there on the desk, still half undressed, wondering how things shifted so quickly. Did I screw everything up?

  Chapter Eleven

  Tyler

  I purposely avoid texting Mia the next two nights, proving to myself I don’t need to see her, talk to her. Just because I’ve been thinking about how she tastes, how sweet her moans sound, that doesn’t mean I need her in any way.

  I already proved I’m stronger than my base desires with her. Everything in me had wanted to tell her yes when she’d tentatively brushed her fingers against my dick in the lab, to have her unzip me and take me in that delicate hand of hers. But I’d meant it when I’d said she doesn’t hold any power over me. And right then, at that moment, I was afraid the scale might have tipped if I’d let her touch me.

  I mean, sure, I’d gone home and jacked off to thoughts of that encounter. But that was me taking control of the situation, doing it on my terms, to my own body. That was different… right?

&nbs
p; Imagining her lowering to her knees, my hands in all that glorious hair of hers, guiding her on how to lick me, suck me, take me entirely into her mouth until I’m in the back of her throat…

  No, she doesn’t hold any sexual thrall over me. I’d done way more with other girls and never thought of them twice after the fact. There’s no reason to think she’s special.

  But I can still hang out with her like normal. I’ll put it to a test. An experiment. I hypothesize that we can be friends and not have it lead to any sexual situation. Not everything we do has to end up that way. I’m in control of myself around her.

  I pull out my phone and type out a text to her.

  Me: Want to box today?

  She said she would go when other guys are there. And Saturday morning is one of the busiest times.

  Mia: Yeah, I’m free this morning.

  Me: Pick you up in thirty minutes?

  Mia: See you then.

  See, she’s casual. Good. We’re both on the same page.

  Besides, it’s important to get along with my coworker. It’ll make the study stronger.

  I snort at myself. What a bunch of bullshit.

  I sigh, putting my phone away and change into my workout gear.

  Forty-five minutes later we pull up in front of Marty’s, her movements less hesitant this time now that she knows what to expect, but she still pauses as we step inside and a number of large, sweaty men look her way, some merely glancing, others outright ogling.

  I shrug off my jacket and hang it by the door. “This is Mia,” I announce. “She’s cool.”

  Most everyone nods and looks away, disinterested now, but a couple eyes linger on her as she takes off her coat to reveal tight athletic leggings and a form-fitting long-sleeved shirt. It’s not anything out of place at a gym normally, it’s actually nearly the same as what she wore the last time I brought her here. But the way the fabric molds to her curves has my hands both itching to touch her and cover her from prying eyes.