Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle (63 page)

I was biting my lower lip, staring at his mouth.

He looked at my lips and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“I can help you,” I said.

“I need help. I'm twenty-two, and it's getting ridiculous.”

“Wow. I would have guessed you were twenty-four, or older. You and I are the same age.”

“Yeah? And how many guys have
you
kissed?”

“Not nearly enough.”

His gorgeous eyes widened and he laughed. He had such thick, dark eyelashes, and his chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with mischief. Gravity slipped away, and when he turned those dancing eyes on me, I felt myself floating, caught in his gaze. He seemed amused by the situation, and staring at me intently, which only made me more nervous. At least he was smiling.

I hadn't meant my comment as a joke, but I joined in and pretended I had.

“There you go,” I said. “A sense of humor will let us beat anything but trained ninjas.”

“What do we do next?”

“I'll have to get someone else to assist at our next session. Perhaps a friend of yours? Do you know anyone who'd be willing to let you practice with her?”

He shook his head. “No way. This is not something my friends can know about.”

“There are people, surrogates, who do this sort of thing professionally. You know, I can probably ask around and give you a referral.”

“No way. Not with a prostitute.”

“They're not prostitutes. Some of them work with people in rehabilitation, or who have special needs, or—”

“This is starting to sound like way too much trouble. Maybe I should get really drunk and just go for it. Like ripping off the Band-Aid.” He crossed his arms. “Though I don't actually drink.”

“You don't drink?” I was incredulous. “That explains how you got to be twenty-two without,” I looked around, mindful of our privacy, “
you know
.”

“Fine, I'll meet with a surrogate or whatever. But you have to arrange everything, and you have to be there to help me.”

I opened my laptop to check my schedule. I tried focus on my screen, but in the presence of such masculine hotness, the screen and keys were a blur. Staring was so embarrassing, but I was only just noticing how incredible his skin was, so dark and rich compared to my own, and I couldn't tear myself away. How would our hands look together, with interlaced fingers? Or our legs?

My eyes wandered down his smoothly-shaved cheeks, over his sexy Adam's apple, and down to his throat where it met his shirt. His pulse was visible beneath his begging-to-be-licked skin. I could just barely smell something musky, like an expensive cologne, and I breathed deeply, hoping to catch more of it, more of Devin. I felt my cheeks burning with forbidden thoughts, and I looked back up, only to be caught in his eyes again, glinting and darker now, like obsidian.

I broke away from his smoldering eyes and tapped at my keyboard frantically.

“I'll need some time to get everything organized,” I said.

“Soon, though. I want to get this over with.”

I peered at him over my screen. “What's the rush? Is there a time constraint I should know about?”

I looked down at my schedule, and when I looked up again, he had his head turned, and he was staring at the couple at the next table, the ones on a date. They were holding hands across the table, gazing into each other's eyes, their faces close. Kissing looked imminent.

“That went fast,” I said. “Those two are sure hitting it off.”

Devin turned back to face me, the fire in his obsidian eyes dimmer. “I could never do that. Be confident with a girl like that.”

“I'm a girl, and you seem confident to me.”

He chuckled. “This is different. This is safe, because I'm paying you. You
have
to be nice to me.”

With that, he withdrew his wallet and handed me the money for that day's short session.

I tucked it away quickly, before anyone else in the cafe saw. I really preferred checks, and in the mail. Cash on the spot always felt so icky.

“I don't have to be nice to anyone,” I said. “But it certainly is better for referrals. Which reminds me, how did you get my name? Was it through a friend?”

“Internet search. I typed in Kissing Coach and your name came up first.”

My cheeks flushed, my pulse pounding. It was on the internet?

“Kidding,” he said. “I got your name from a list of coaches in the area.”

“Right.” I fanned my face. “Of course.”

We set up a time for the following Tuesday, but I was uncertain about the venue. The whole kissing business was not something appropriate for the coffee shop—although the couple at the next table wasn't having any problems. And in the middle of the day! It had to be Spring Fever… all the extra pollen in the air.

“You're good at this,” Devin said. “I'm hardly panicking at all. How about you? Are you okay? I guess I dropped this all on your lap and didn't ask if
you
were comfortable helping with such a ridiculous thing.”

“Don't call it ridiculous,” I said, then I repeated a line I'd had to use often, “You wouldn't have called me if it wasn't important to you.”

“You're a cute girl. Do a lot of your clients hit on you?”

“Not enough,” I said, then, “Sorry, bad joke. They don't, because when we begin, I email them a document with a few ground rules, and one of them is that coaches can't date their clients.”

“I see,” he said, nodding. “That makes sense. Well, you wouldn't have to worry about me trying to kiss you or anything.”

“Not until after you're all fixed up.”

We grinned at each other, making awkward eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time.

I ducked my head down and tapped at my keyboard. “Tuesday, and we'll meet at my apartment, if that's fine by you.”

He said it was, and I got his email address to forward the details.

I disliked having clients in my personal space, because I didn't want them seeing I wasn't perfect. It would take me hours to clean the apartment before a meeting, but on the bright side, if it wasn't for a client coming by once a month or so, the place would never get cleaned.

He finished his coffee as we made some small talk, then he started getting up to leave.

The couple at the next table was in full makeout mode.

I could feel my face twisting up in a grin as I said, “Wanna just plant one on me now, and I can chalk this up as the most successful coaching session of my career to date?”

I stood up to shake his hand, my question lingering between us.

He licked his lips and stared at my mouth, then he took a step closer to me.

My mouth began to water, and my pulse pounded in my throat. The idea of kissing someone certainly caused anxiety. Perhaps he'd simply confused the normal excitement of a first kiss with something more serious?

His face moved closer to mine.

I was the world's greatest coach! Maybe?

Before his lips reached mine, he staggered back again, as though bouncing off my force field.

“Sorry,” he growled, and he ran out the door, his head down.

I looked around the cafe, feeling ashamed. The guy had hired me to help him, and I'd gone and pushed him two steps back. What were the odds he'd even come to our next session?

I sat down again and fought the urge to cry pitifully in public.

Three days after my horrific meeting with Devin (horrific in the sense that it could be used as a teaching example of how
not
to life-coach someone), I was finally able to confess to what I'd done. I met with my best friend, Steph, for a yoga class.

We took our usual places, at mats in the back corner. The instructor, a humorless woman with silver-shot hair, gave us a dirty look as soon as she saw us.

“Perhaps you two shouldn't sit together,” she said.

“We'll behave,” Steph said.

I hissed at Steph, “Lies.”

The woman shook her head and started lighting candles. Of all the ridiculous parts of yoga, the candles are probably the silliest. I don't think I've been to a class yet where someone didn't kick over one of the glass votives—at the end of class, when people are stumbling around. In the dark. Without their glasses.

Steph lay back on a round bolster, broadening her chest. Steph's a blonde, like me, and we're sometimes mistaken for sisters, which I take as a compliment. We wear the same size, and when we were roommates during college, we started sharing clothes. Steph's more careful, and I swear my clothes would come back from her looking better. I'm a food dribbler, though, so I always ask about the replacement value before I borrow her stuff, just in case.

I said to her, “Showing off your boobs today?”

She smirked. “I gained a little weight, and they're a full A Cup now.”

“Congratulations. Should I get you one of those
Your Body is Changing
books?”

“Shut up. You're only a B Cup with padding and you know it. Get down here and tell me more about the kissing.”

I got onto my side. We still had five minutes before class, and the instructor didn't mind us talking, as long as we were quiet.

I'd told Steph most of the story on the walk in, so I picked up where I'd left off, saying, “I thought finding a surrogate would be easy, but there aren't that many of them around. I got a name of one woman who's local, but she was
not
very helpful on the phone, plus she only works with licensed sex therapists. One of which, I am not.”

“You should ask Kat.”

I giggled. “She's still in Boston, acting put-out and pretending to help with her sister's new baby.”

Steph adjusted the bolster under her back. “Probably for the best. Kat would destroy the poor guy.”

I shuffled my foam blocks around, then gave Steph my sweetest look.

“Ew, no,” she said.

“He's cute.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You said he wasn't.”

“Sometimes grown-ups lie.”

“Fine, I'll do it,” she said.

I squealed. “You won't regret it.”

“Ugh! Don't say that! It's like saying
trust me
. Now you've guaranteed I'll regret it.” She rolled over to face me and we made Tentacle Fingers together, where we make our hands look like squids, with just the fingertips touching. “Should I wear a dress? How about lipstick?”

My mouth turned sour at the thought of her kissing Devin. “Dress normal,” I said. “I don't want him getting all turned on by you.”

“Why not?”

I frowned. “Because it's not professional.”

She pulled her hands away from mine and fanned her face. “I'm actually excited. This is fun. It's so wrong, which makes it better.”

The lights dimmed, and everyone around us got quiet. Yoga class was about to begin, and I got my usual mixed feelings of euphoria and dread as we took our first few breaths.

After a brief meditation, we moved into our first Downward Dog. I have abnormally low blood pressure, and the first inversion of the day feels like I've jumped into a swimming pool and had water shoot up my nose. My eyes watered as I adjusted my hands and hips.

After a few minutes, my brain would regulate my blood pressure by contracting my blood vessels, and the second one would be easier.

I made a mental note to use this comparison to help Devin ease into kissing me. Oops! Kissing Steph.

My mind wandered to things that would have made my cheeks red, even if I wasn't upside-down. Once Devin got over his fear of kissing, what else was he terrified of? Would I guide him and Steph through more? Wouldn't that be the worst threesome imaginable, like watching someone else eat your favorite chocolate?

Someone—the yoga instructor—pushed down on my upper back, between my shoulder blades.

“Imagine everything is as it should be,” she said, her voice calm and soothing in a way that made me suspicious of brainwashing attempts.

I let her words seep into me, and pretended I was making good decisions, and not poised to ruin some poor guy's potential love life with my lack of training. As a younger coach, I didn't have a ton of life experience to guide me, so I relied more on my intuition. My heart was telling me to kiss Devin, but I had to put his needs ahead of my own. I had, after all, printed out an oath from the internet and signed my name to it.