Page 20 of Practice Makes Perfect (Pine Barren University #2)

twelve

EM

“OH MY GOD!” Lea’s voice cuts through the room like a siren.

In a knee-jerk panic, I bolt upright, which has the unexpected consequence of jamming Linc’s teeth right into my nipple. I shriek, clutching my chest as a sharp pain radiates through my breast.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Lea gasps from the doorway, her hand flying to cover her eyes. “I didn’t—I thought—door’s closing!”

The door slams shut with a bang that probably alerts the entire floor to our situation. I collapse back against the pillow, pain warring with mortification as I cup my injured breast. My poor nipple throbs beneath my palm like it’s developing its own heartbeat.

“Oh my god, Em. I’m so sorry.” Linc’s face is a mask of horrified concern as he hovers over me. “Are you OK? Do you need a Band-Aid? Are you bleeding? This has literally never happened to me before. I’ve never bitten anyone’s—I mean, not accidentally?—”

I peek under my hand to assess the damage. “I don’t think I’m bleeding.”

He gently moves my hand, then winces. “It’s… definitely red. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I mutter. “Blame my fight-or-flight reflexes.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Shit, and it was going so well…”

The horror of Lea walking in is starting to sink in. “Did she see everything?”

“I don’t think so?” Linc says, but his voice rises at the end like a question.

“The sheets were covering most… parts,” I say. “Right?”

His shrug tells me he’s not convinced.

I groan, dropping my free arm over my eyes. The throbbing in my nipple is subsiding to a dull ache. “Well, I think we can file this under ‘mood killer.’”

“Should I…?” Linc gestures vaguely at my chest, like he’s wondering if he should kiss it better—which would be sweet if it weren’t also mildly horrifying.

“Absolutely not,” I say, half-laughing despite myself. “Your mouth has done enough damage for one night.”

His eyebrows draw together. “I feel terrible.”

He looks so genuinely contrite that I can’t help but smile. “I’m fine. Really. Just… surprised. And possibly traumatized. But physically fine. We should probably stop for tonight, though, and I need to have a very pointed conversation with Lea about the concept of knocking.”

“Right.” Linc runs a hand over his short hair, looking adorably flustered. “I should go.”

The reality of our situation sinks in as we both realize we need to get dressed, which suddenly feels awkward in a way that being naked together didn’t just minutes ago.

“I’ll, uh, turn around,” Linc offers, already shifting away from me.

“Thanks,” I mumble, surprised by his modesty.

As he turns his back to me, I do the same, sliding out of bed to grab my clothes from the floor. Then the absurdity hits me— we’re both naked, we’ve just had our tongues all over each other, and now we’re being shy?

It doesn’t make sense, but somehow I appreciate it.

There’s something weirdly intimate about watching someone put their clothes back on, like watching a magic trick in reverse. The mystery and allure disappearing beneath cotton and denim.

Or maybe I just don’t want to watch his gorgeous body being covered up—a visual reminder of what we’re not finishing tonight.

I pull on my underwear, then my leggings, feeling the ghost of his touch lingering on my skin. My body still hums with unfulfilled desire, but there’s something else—a warm comfort that settled over me while we were together.

Despite the disastrous ending, I felt safe with him. Comfortable.

“All clear?” Linc asks, still facing away from me.

“Yeah,” I say, tugging my sweatshirt over my head. “You?”

“Yep.” He turns around, fully dressed now, his hair slightly mussed.

An awkward silence falls between us as we stand there, neither of us quite sure what to say after such an abrupt transition from intimacy to… whatever this feeling is.

“Well,” I finally say, “that was certainly educational.”

His lips twitch into a smile. “Not exactly how I planned for lesson one to end.”

“Up until the screaming and the biting, it was pretty amazing.”

His eyes soften, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nod, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I felt… good. Safe.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles.

He steps to the door and pauses, hand on the knob. “Let me check if the coast is clear,” he whispers, opening it just a crack and poking his head out.

I stand a few feet behind him, hands twisted in the hem of my sweatshirt. The whole situation feels like a bad teen movie—complete with the roommate interruption and now the sneaking out. Except instead of hiding from parents, I’m hiding from my best friend who’s already seen everything.

“All clear,” Linc announces in a theatrical whisper that’s definitely louder than necessary. He steps into the hallway, gesturing for me to follow.

“I CAN HEAR YOU!” Lea’s voice rings out from somewhere in our dorm, making us both jump.

Linc’s eyes widen comically. “So much for stealth,” he murmurs. Then louder, “Bye, Lea!”

“BYE!” comes the response, though I detect a hint of laughter underneath the indignation.

A mortified giggle escapes me. “This is the most embarrassing moment of my life. And that includes the time I threw up on my middle school crush.”

Linc makes a sympathetic face. “I’m guessing that relationship didn’t work out?”

“Shockingly, no.” I lean against the door frame, suddenly not wanting him to leave despite the disaster we’ve just experienced. “So… um…”

“Next time,” he says, voice dropping lower, “maybe we should do this at my place instead? Mike’s hardly ever home these days, and he knows how to knock.”

Relief washes over me. He still wants there to be a next time.

“Smart,” I agree. “And I’ll have a talk with Lea about knocking. And also maybe about not traumatizing my sex coach with unexpected appearances.”

He grins. “Sex coach? Is that my official title now?”

“Would you prefer ‘Orgasm Optimization Specialist’? ‘Director of Intimate Studies’?” I tap my chin thoughtfully. “I could make you business cards.”

“I’ll stick with Linc.” He laughs, then glances toward the front door. “I should probably go.”

“Right. Yes.”

We stand awkwardly for a moment, caught in that strange space between intimacy and formality. I’m not sure what the protocol is here. A hug feels too intimate after what we were just doing, but a handshake would be ridiculous given he had his mouth on my breast five minutes ago.

Linc solves the dilemma by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “You did great today,” he murmurs.

The simple praise makes something warm bloom in my chest. I beam at him, feeling disproportionately pleased. “Thanks.”

“Text me,” he says as he backs toward the front door.

“I will.”

After Linc leaves, I stand in the hallway for a moment, touching the spot on my cheek where his lips were. Then I square my shoulders and head to the kitchen, where I know Lea is waiting. Sure enough, she’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at me with wide eyes.

Her mouth opens and closes twice before she finally speaks. “So,” she says, drawing out the word.

“I was going to tell you,” I say quickly. “It just… happened kind of fast.”

“I’d say!” Lea raises her eyebrows. “One minute you’re swearing off athletes, the next you’ve got one in your bed.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She gives me a flat look. “Em, I saw his face between your?—”

“OK, it’s exactly what it looks like,” I interrupt, heat rushing to my face. “But there’s context!”

Lea’s expression shifts from shock to something closer to hurt. “Have you two been seeing each other this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What? No!” I lean against the counter across from her. “God, no. It’s not like that!”

“Then what is it like? Because from where I was standing—which was unfortunately your doorway—it looked pretty intimate.”

I sigh and slide down to sit on the kitchen floor, my back against the cabinets. After a moment, Lea joins me, our shoulders touching as we sit side by side in the rather odd position.

“It’s complicated,” I say, drawing my knees up to my chest. “Or maybe it’s actually super simple, I don’t know. We’re not dating. We’re… he’s helping me.”

“Helping you?” Lea repeats. “With what, your anatomy homework?”

I snort despite myself. “No, he’s… teaching me. About sex stuff. Like a coach.”

“A sex coach.” She says it flatly, like she’s trying to process the concept.

“Exactly!” I nod enthusiastically. “He’s experienced, and I’m not.

We ran into each other after the hockey game the other night, and we talked, and I asked if he would help me get more comfortable with…

all that. So I could start dating again without having panic attacks every time a guy touches me… ”

Lea’s eyes widen. “You asked Lincoln Garcia to be your sex coach? Just like that?”

“It wasn’t quite that smooth. There was a lot of rambling involved. And some panic. And then more rambling. But yeah, basically.”

“And he said yes.”

“Obviously.” I gesture toward the bedroom. “Then we set up some ground rules. It’s all very… clinical.”

That’s a lie. There was nothing clinical about the way his tongue felt against my nipple or how my skin caught fire everywhere he touched me. Or the fact that, ten minutes after he left me, I still feel soaked between my thighs and longing for release.

Lea gives me a skeptical look. “Clinical.”

“OK, not clinical, but structured. He even made a lesson plan.” I wince, realizing how that sounds. “God, that came out wrong. It’s not weird. Well, maybe it is weird. But it’s a good weird?”

“I can’t decide if this is the most creative pickup strategy I’ve ever heard.” She shakes her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Guilt twists in my stomach. “I was going to! But I was worried you’d judge me. I mean, I’m hooking up with exactly the type of guy I swore I was trying to avoid.”

“Em.” Lea’s voice softens. “I would never judge you. As long as you’re enjoying yourself and being safe, that’s what matters.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—” I pause, searching for the right words. “I wasn’t sure it would even work out, so I didn’t want to jinx it by talking about it.”

She nods slowly. “I get that. But aren’t you worried about catching feelings? I mean, even if it starts as just physical, it could get complicated.”

I laugh, but it comes out too high-pitched. “Louis said the same thing. But no, I’m not worried. What we have is totally casual. Linc made it very clear he doesn’t have room for a girlfriend right now with everything going on in his life, and I’m just trying to get comfortable with… you know.”

“Did you guys discuss whether he’s allowed to see other people during this… arrangement?”

The question hits me like a bucket of ice water. “Not exactly, no. We didn’t cover that.”

“And that wouldn’t bother you? If he was hooking up with other girls while he was with you?”

“No,” I say, too quickly. “Why would it? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.”

Lea gives me a look—a look that says she doesn’t believe me for a second.

“What?” I demand. “I’m serious.”

“Sure you are,” she says, patting my knee.

I think I am, but am I?

A small, treacherous voice in my head wonders if I really would be OK seeing Linc with someone else. The thought sends an unexpected pang through my chest.

No. I push the feeling away. This is Linc we’re talking about. Linc with his reputation and his experience and his parade of willing partners. He’s not a one-girl type of guy. He made that abundantly clear.

He’s just doing this as a favor to me, and as an outlet for him—a stress release from all the pressure he’s under with the hockey team. It’s mutually beneficial. Nothing more.

He’s my coach, not my boyfriend.

“I’m happy for you,” Lea says, cutting into my thoughts. “Really. Just… be careful, OK? Not just physically, but emotionally too.”

“I will,” I promise, deciding not to examine too closely why that feels like a lie. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Yeah, well, maybe next time give me a heads-up before I walk in on you. That was an image I wasn’t prepared for.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t prepared for it either.” I rub my still-tender nipple through my sweatshirt. “Life lesson right there.”

Lea cringes. “Oh god, did he bite you?”

“Not on purpose! I jumped and—” I make a clacking sound with my teeth. “It was an unfortunate collision.”

She bursts out laughing, and I join her, the tension between us dissolving.

“So,” she says when we’ve recovered, “on a scale of one to mind-blowing, how is he?”

“We didn’t get that far, thanks to you,” I remind her, but then a smile creeps across my face. “But based on preliminary data? The hype is completely justified.”

“Damn,” she says appreciatively. “Hockey players, man.”

“Hockey players,” I agree, trying to ignore the feeling in my chest when I think about seeing him again. It’s just excitement, I tell myself. Not feelings.

Definitely not feelings.