Page 12 of The Good Student (Straight No More #2)

ASHER'S ROOM is surprisingly neat, with minimal decoration.

A twin bed sits against one wall, neatly made with a dark blue comforter.

A desk occupies the opposite wall, cluttered with textbooks and a laptop.

Posters of indie bands I vaguely recognize hang on the walls, along with a framed photo of what looks like Asher's family.

It's so... normal. I'm not sure what I expected—maybe something more overtly sexual, given Asher's reputation—but this room could belong to any college student.

Asher closes the door behind us, the soft click sounding final somehow. "So," he says, leaning back against the door. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, suddenly aware that I haven't thought this through. "I, uh..." I start, then stop, unsure how to continue.

Asher waits, patient but expectant. The silence stretches between us, charged with unspoken questions.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it," I finally admit, the words rushing out before I can reconsider. "About what happened in the library. About what you said after."

"Which part?" Asher asks, his voice carefully neutral.

"The part about finding someone else." My hands clench at my sides. "I didn't like it."

A flicker of surprise crosses Asher's face before his expression settles into something more guarded. "You didn't like the idea of me being with someone else?"

"No," I admit, the confession feeling like it's being torn from somewhere deep inside me. "I didn't."

Asher pushes off from the door, taking a step closer. "That's interesting," he says, his voice dropping lower. "Especially considering you made it clear you weren't interested in reciprocating."

The reminder makes shame curl in my stomach. "I know. That's why I'm here."

"To reciprocate?" Asher asks, eyebrows raised. "Out of what? Obligation? Jealousy?"

"Both? Neither?" I run a hand through my hair, frustrated with my inability to articulate what I'm feeling. "I don't know. I just know I couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else."

Asher takes another step closer, close enough now that I can smell his soap, something clean and citrusy. "And what does that tell you, Philip?"

The question hangs in the air between us, demanding an answer I'm not sure I have. What does it tell me? That I'm possessive? Selfish? Or something deeper, something I've been avoiding acknowledging?

"That I want you," I say finally, the admission feeling like jumping off a cliff. "Not just... what you can do for me. But you."

Asher's expression softens, something like surprise and pleasure mingling in his eyes. "That's a big admission for someone who was insisting they were straight a few hours ago."

"Yeah, well," I shrug, a rueful smile tugging at my lips. "I'm starting to think I might have been wrong about that."

Asher laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "You think?"

The tension breaks slightly, and I find myself smiling too. "Okay, so I'm a little slow on the uptake."

"Just a little," Asher agrees, stepping closer still. We're almost touching now, the space between us charged with potential energy. "So, what now?"

My gaze drops to Asher's mouth. Without overthinking it, I reach out, my hand coming to rest on Asher's waist. The contact, even through the fabric of his shirt, sends a jolt of electricity up my arm.

"I want to..." I start, then hesitate. "I don't know how to do this. Any of this."

"Do what?" Asher prompts, his voice gentle.

"Be with a guy," I admit. "Touch a guy. I don't know how to... I've never..." I gesture vaguely, frustration evident in my movements.

"Sucked a cock?" Asher supplies, his bluntness making my cheeks heat.

"Yeah. That."

Asher's lips curve into a smile that's equal parts amused and aroused. "And you want to? Suck mine?"

The directness of the question should be off-putting, but instead, it sends a thrill through me. "Yes," I admit. "But I don't know how."

"That's okay," Asher says, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. The touch is surprisingly tender. "I can teach you."

The words, simple as they are, make my heart race. "You'd do that?"

"Philip," Asher says, his voice serious now. "I've wanted you since freshman orientation when you argued with Professor Harmon about economic theory. Watching you get all passionate and intellectual was the hottest thing I'd ever seen."

The confession catches me off guard. "That long?"

Asher nods, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "That long. So yeah, I'd be more than happy to teach you whatever you want to learn."

The revelation that Asher has wanted me for years, not just since the party, shifts something in my chest. This isn't just physical attraction or convenience. There's history here, depth I hadn't anticipated.

"I want to learn everything," I say, surprising myself with my own boldness. "Starting with how to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

Asher's eyes darken at the words. "We can start simple," he says, his voice rougher now. "The basics of a good blowjob are enthusiasm, attention to reaction, and no teeth."

Despite the tension of the moment, I can't help but laugh. "No teeth. Got it. What else?"

"Start with the tip," Asher says, demonstrating by sticking out his tongue slightly. "Use your tongue to explore, to tease."

The visual makes my mouth go dry. Without thinking, I lean forward and capture Asher's extended tongue with my lips, sucking on it gently.

Asher makes a surprised sound that quickly morphs into a moan. His hands come up to frame my face, holding me in place as the impromptu demonstration transforms into a proper kiss.

It's different from any kiss I've ever had—more forceful, more equal. Asher's stubble scrapes against my chin, a friction that's new but not unpleasant. His lips are firm, his technique confident as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes heat pool in my stomach.

When we finally break apart, both breathing heavily, Asher's pupils are dilated, his lips slightly swollen. "Quick learner," he murmurs, his voice husky.

"I've always been a good student," I reply, surprised by my own ability to flirt in this new context. "But I think I need more hands-on practice."

Asher's smile turns predatory. "I think that can be arranged."