Page 18 of Practice Makes Perfect (Pine Barren University #2)
eleven
LINC
I arrive at Hughes Hall and head up to Em’s dorm room half an hour early, and it’s perfect. My mind is too busy running through what’s about to happen to spend any time thinking about hockey, Coach’s ultimatum, my looming confrontation with Mike, or my mom’s constant pressure.
The next few hours are about me and her. Something easy and simple, with no strings and no pressure, just helping Em get comfortable with her sexuality. And the fact that I’ll likely be getting naked with a gorgeous woman in the process doesn’t hurt, either.
As I get closer to her dorm room, I grip the folder with my meticulously outlined lesson plan for our upcoming weeks. Yes, a lesson plan, for sex, and possibly my smoothest move ever. But after our last encounter, I wanted to be prepared. To have structure. To make sure she feels safe.
So, as ready as I’ll ever be, I knock on the door.
“You’re early!” Em swings the door open, her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing leggings and an oversized Pine Barrens sweatshirt.
“Yeah, sorry about?—”
“No, it’s good. I’ve been ready for an hour. Not that ‘ready’ really took much effort, given you told me to dress comfortably. I changed a few times, but decided on this, so I hope this is OK?” She flushes immediately. “Not that I’ve been sitting here waiting or anything. I was doing… stuff.”
“Right. Stuff.” My eyes drop to the folder in my hand, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “I, uh, brought something.”
She steps aside to let me in, eyeing the folder. “Homework? Is this a study date now?”
“Sort of.” I follow her inside, taking in the dorm. It’s small but cozy, and co-habitation with Lea is obvious given the art projects all over the place.
“Want something to drink?” Em asks, already moving toward the kitchenette. “I’ve got water, cinnamon cider, juice boxes—courtesy of Lea, who apparently still thinks she’s in third grade—or beer, but it’s some hipster IPA that tastes like pine needles and disappointment.”
“Water’s good.”
She grabs two glasses, her hands busy but her eyes constantly flicking to the folder I’ve set on the counter.
I can practically hear her curiosity humming.
From the little time I’ve spent around this girl, it’s clear that her mind works at a million revolutions a minute, and her body isn’t much slower.
It’s a pace I look forward to learning.
“So…” she slides a glass toward me, “are you going to tell me what’s in the mysterious folder, or should I guess? Tax returns? Your application to Hogwarts?”
I take a breath and open it. “It’s a lesson plan.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “A what now?”
“A lesson plan. For, you know, this. Us.” I slide the papers toward her. “What we’re going to cover. Week by week.”
Em picks up the first page, eyes widening as she scans it. “You made a—” she flips to the second page, “—a syllabus? For this?”
“I had some time after practice,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I thought it might help to have structure.”
“This is…” she flips through the remaining pages, “extremely nerdy.”
“Thanks?”
“No, it’s…” She looks up, fighting a grin. “You’ve scheduled foreplay sessions. With bullet points and… are these weekly learning objectives?”
I feel heat crawling up my neck. “I take your sexual education seriously, Em. I needed you to know that.”
“I appreciate the attention to detail,” she smiles at me, then goes back to reading. “Are we really going to?—”
“What?” I ask, when she pauses.
“Uh…” she flushes beet red. Like, the sort of red that never comes out when it stains your clothes. A sort of red that makes me wonder if she’s choking.
“What ?” I repeat, firmer this time. “Are you OK?”
“Umm… just… excited by the prospect of trying some of this stuff with you?” she says. “And mortified by the thought that I might be terrible at it?”
“That’s why we’re taking it slow. We build one lesson on top of the other.” I reach out to touch her arm, and she doesn’t pull away, instead looking up at me with a mix of attraction and panic in her eyes. “You’ll be safe the whole time, and you can tell me to go slower or stop at any time, OK?”
“I trust you.” She smiles, and it’s the warmest damn thing I’ve ever felt. “So… what’s on the agenda for today, Professor Garcia?”
I lean against the counter. “Basically what we did at my place. Making out. Getting comfortable with each other.” I pause. “Except this time, without clothes.”
“Oh.” Her voice is small, and she fidgets with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Right.”
“We don’t have to?—”
“No! I want to.” She takes a deliberate breath. “So how do we… start?”
I set my water down. “However you want. We could talk more, or just jump in, or?—”
“I’m nervous,” she blurts out. “I know it’s stupid. People get naked with each other all the time. Every day. All over the world. So many naked people.”
I step closer, gently taking her hands. “Em. Breathe.”
She inhales sharply. “Sorry. When I’m nervous, my mouth just?—”
“I can go first,” I offer. “Take my clothes off first, I mean. If that would help.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m not sure seeing you naked will make me less nervous.”
“No?”
“No. Your body does this—” she waves a hand at my chest, “—thing.”
I feel a grin spreading across my face. “A thing?”
“It’s very distracting.” She rolls her eyes. “But I need to get used to undressing.”
“Then we’ll go together,” I suggest. “At the same time.”
She nods, squaring her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. “OK. Yes.”
We stand there for a beat.
“Should we… move to the bedroom?” I ask.
“Right! Yes! This way!” She leads me down a short hallway to a bedroom that’s unmistakably hers—more books, a desk covered with color-coded notes, and dance shoes hanging from hooks on the wall. “Lea and I got moved into a suite dorm this semester, so it’s good we’ve got separate bedrooms now?—”
I stop her rambling by pulling my shirt over my head. Her eyes trace the movement, yet when I toss it aside, she hasn’t moved. “Together?” I remind her.
“Right.” She grabs the hem of her sweatshirt and pulls it up in one swift motion, revealing a simple black bra underneath.
I try not to stare at the curve of her breasts and the smooth skin of her stomach, but I’m only human. And I’m so awestruck that I miss her hands moving down to her leggings. She starts pushing them down, then looks at me and raises an eyebrow when she catches me gawking and not stripping.
“Sorry!” I say, as I unbutton my jeans, and then we both push our pants down at roughly the same time.
And suddenly we’re three feet apart in our underwear, sizing each other up.
“This is weird, right?” she asks, nervously twisting her fingers. “Like, normally there’s music or something. Or it’s dark. Or you’re drunk.”
“Do you want music?” I grin. “I do a pretty mean impression of the Full Monty if you ask nicely enough…”
“Surprised that’s not in the syllabus.” Her eyes trail down my chest to my boxers, then dart away as if she’s been shocked with a cattle prod. “Your turn.”
With a shrug, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers and push them down, stepping out of them like it’s no big deal. For me, it’s not. But for Em, it’s clearly a whole new world. Her eyes widen, and I catch her quick inhale, and she’s definitely looking now.
“Your turn,” I say quietly.
Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches behind her back to unhook her bra. She hesitates for a moment, then lets it fall. My breath catches—her breasts are perfect, small and perky with dusky pink nipples that are already hard with excitement and anticipation.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, meaning it.
She gives a nervous laugh, then quickly pushes her panties down and steps out of them, standing naked before me. I take my time looking at her—the curve of her hips, the small patch of dark hair between her thighs, the goosebumps spreading across her skin.
“Are you cold?” I ask, noticing how they cover her arms and legs, and it’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I honestly can’t tell if it’s temperature or nerves,” she admits, wrapping her arms around herself.
“You did great.” I step toward the bed. “Now let’s get under the covers. You’ll be warmer that way.”
Once beneath the sheets, Em’s skin slides against mine, warm and impossibly soft. The contrast of smooth curves against my harder planes sends a rush of heat through me, shooting straight to my groin. I want this woman—and I want to show this woman—but she’s tense, so I give her a moment to adjust.
“Can I kiss you, Em?” I ask, propping myself on one elbow to look down at her, but keeping a little distance between us in case she wants to back out.
Em nods, clearly not trusting herself to speak, because her lips are clamped together.
I lean forward, kissing her with just my lips at first, gentle but also insistent.
She melts into it almost immediately, her mouth opening under mine.
The kiss deepens naturally, and I slide my tongue against hers.
“Is this OK?” I murmur against her lips, not wanting to break contact, caressing my free hand up her side.
“Mmm,” she hums in agreement, her fingers tentatively coming up to rest on my shoulders.
I carefully position myself half on top of her, making sure not to crush her with my weight. Our kiss grows more intense, and I can feel her heartbeat racing beneath her ribs. When her hands start to move—hesitant at first, then with growing confidence—I groan softly against her mouth.
“Em,” I whisper, pulling back just enough to see her face. “Can I touch you a little more? Your sides, your back?”
She looks up at me with those big eyes, pupils wide with arousal. “Yes. And… I can touch you too, right?”
“Fuck yes,” I reply, perhaps too enthusiastically, but her shy smile tells me she appreciates my eagerness. “Touch me anywhere you want.”