Misadventures of a College Girl (Misadventures #9)(24)

Tyler’s eyes are locked on mine. He’s so close, I feel his body heat. He rests his free hand on my thigh. “I said that because you were a hot girl at a party who wanted to have sex with a guy wearing a douchey message T-shirt. But now you’re Zooey Cartwright, the pretty, smart, funny weirdo-theater-major I’m going to be hanging out with for the next five weeks. Under the circumstances, I think the intelligent thing for me to do would be to adapt and change the Tyler Caldwell menu.” He grins. “‘Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change.’ Stephen Hawking.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting we have sex every time we get together to work on our projects over the next five weeks. Beginning tonight.”

My lips part.

“Now, just to be clear,” he adds. “I’ll only be able to see you Monday through Wednesday for the next five weeks. That’s all I can manage with my schedule. But when I see you, hell yeah, I’m suggesting we have lots and lots of awesome sex.”

My mind is racing. I can’t breathe.

“Think of it like a third partner project,” he says softly, leaning close to my face. “We’ll call it ‘The Miseducation of Zooey Cartwright.’ For five weeks, Monday through Wednesday, I’ll teach you everything you need to know about sex. And when you graduate from my five-week course, you’ll be ready to bone with the best of ’em, baby.”

My heart is exploding with excitement. I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth by asking too many questions—because, God knows, what Tyler’s offering me is a thousand times more enticing to me than any of my cherry-popping one-night-stand fantasies. But I can’t go into this with any misunderstandings. “And what happens when the five weeks are over?” I ask. “After we turn in our midterm projects, we’ll still have two classes together, twice a week, for another five weeks. Won’t that be awkward?”

“Not if we agree up front that our miseducation project will last five weeks and nothing more. To be honest, I fully expect you to be chomping at the bit to try out all your newly acquired sex-kitten skills on some other dudes by the time we get to the five-week mark.”

“Oh, so you’re assuming I wouldn’t have sex with anyone else during the five weeks of my ‘miseducation’?”

Tyler’s eyes burst into flames. “That’s nonnegotiable. You’ll be my very own little hunk of clay to mold. All mine. It’s gonna be a huge turn-on for me to know I’m your first for anything and everything we do, and I don’t want anyone else fucking that up for me. But after the five weeks are up, knock yourself out, baby.”

My heart is thudding noisily in my ears. “I’d want the same promise from you,” I say. “I’d want you to have sex with only me during the entire five weeks.”

“There’s no logical reason for that arrangement. You’re not my first. I’m not your hunk of clay to mold.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to wonder where else your ‘hunk of clay’ has been during the five weeks you’re sticking it inside me.”

Tyler chuckles. “Fair enough. Okay, deal. Any other conditions?”

I feel dizzy. I shake my head.

“Great. But, remember, at the end of five weeks, we’re friends. If you see me talking to someone else in class or at the book store, you’ve got to promise you won’t slash my tires or light up my phone with fifty batshit crazy texts in an hour. Friends.”

“I understand.” My face feels hot. My skin is sizzling. I can’t believe this is happening. “So what happens now?” I whisper.

“This.” He licks his lips, leans forward, and kisses me—and, instantly, my body explodes with arousal. I slide my arms around his neck and return his kiss passionately. In response, he pulls me toward him greedily, guiding me to sit on his lap, and I straddle him while continuing to kiss him. He cups my face in his palms and absolutely devours me while I rub my crotch furiously against his bulge.

Still kissing me, Tyler stands, taking me with him, and strides with me in his strong arms toward the staircase.

“You don’t want to work on Shakespeare a bit more?” I whisper into his lips. But, of course, I’m joking.

“Shakespeare can go fuck himself,” Tyler grits out. “That fucker is dead. I’m alive and hard as a rock, and I’ve never wanted a girl as much as I want you, Zooey Cartwright.”





Chapter Thirteen





For the past twenty minutes, Tyler and I have been lying on his bed, both of us fully clothed, kissing and touching and groping and gyrating against each other. At this point, I’m so turned on, I feel like I’m about to explode. I don’t know if Tyler’s a mad genius or what, but this tactic of making out with me fully clothed for so long is making me ache so much, I want to grab him by his ears and scream, “Let’s get naked already, for the love of God!”

As we continue kissing and groping each other, my fingers migrate to that delectable hard bulge behind his jeans. Oh, man, I’m dying to see it naked and in all its glory. I squeeze his hardness, and he groans into our kiss.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispers into my mouth. “You turn me on so much.”

Then let’s get naked.