The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient #1)(14)

“You mean you knew ahead of time you weren’t going to accept?” Blackness threatened to spill over and stain her insides. She’d thought he was a potential solution to her problem. Now, it looked like it had been nothing but a one-night stand from the start.

He nodded curtly.

“Why did you stay last night, then? I was up front with you about what I wanted. All of the k-kissing and touching, my clothes, I did that for nothing.” Her throat swelled so much that near the end, she could barely force the words out.

She pressed hot palms to her forehead, trying to deal with this betrayed feeling. The pain and shame were so unexpected, she had trouble breathing. Why had he made her do those things? Had it been a game? Had he thought it was funny?

How come she never understood people?

“I honestly didn’t believe you,” he said. “At most, I thought you had a confidence problem that would go away after we were together. Besides, you paid in advance. I wanted you to get your money’s worth.”

“You wanted to show me a good time.”

“Well . . . yeah. That’s why people hire me.”

“But that’s not why I hired you.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and righted her glasses, suddenly hollowed out and exhausted. “It doesn’t matter. You should get going, or you’ll be late.”

As if from a distance, she was aware of her feet bringing her to the door and her palm gripping the handle, pulling it open.

He took a breath as if he meant to speak but ended up shutting his mouth before he could say anything. He swept past her and paused on the other side of the doorway, considering her. “I’m sorry to leave with things like this. Be safe, okay?”

She looked away from him and nodded.

“Good-bye, Stella.”

He padded down the hall, and she shut the door. The locks engaged with a final click.

She should shower. She’d basically slept in her sweat last night. But when she touched her clothes, she realized she was wearing Michael’s shirt. She pressed her cheek to her shoulder and inhaled his scent. After sniffing her arms and hair, she discovered it was all over her.

What did she do now?

Her body itched with the need to wash, but if she showered, that precious smell would be gone. And there wasn’t ever going to be any more of it. This was it.

She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest to keep the loneliness at bay. She ached so badly to be held it felt like a sickness had invaded her muscles and bones. As usual, her own arms provided little comfort. She’d give herself five minutes, and then she’d get ready for work. It was only Saturday morning, and she’d already had more weekend than she could handle. If she didn’t find a way to occupy her mind, she’d spiral into something dark and bleak—was already spiraling.

Three quick knocks rapped on the door, and she stood up mechanically. It was probably housecleaning, checking to see if she’d left yet.

She opened the door, and Michael stared back at her with an intense gaze. His chest labored like he’d sprinted the entire way back from his car.

“Three sessions. That’s the most I’ll do,” he said.

It took her a moment to understand that by sessions he meant lessons, but when she did, her heart sprinted so fast her fingers went numb. He was going to help her. Could three lessons possibly be enough to perfect sex? There was so much she had to learn, so much she was bad at, but what choice did she have? Maybe if they planned everything out very carefully . . .

With her limbs frozen in shock, all she could manage to say was, “Okay.”

He considered her, the muscles of his jaw taut. “If we do this thing, you have to promise not to go crazy when it ends.”

“I can promise that,” she said through the roaring in her ears.

“I mean it. No stalking, no calling, no outrageous gifts. None of that.” His fingers were tight around the strap of his bag as he awaited her response, and his expression was dead serious.

“Okay.”

He unlooped the bag from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground before he stepped toward her, not stopping until her back was pressed against the open door. He flattened a hand on the door next to her face and leaned down. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.” He’d shaken her brain into malfunctioning, and apparently that was all she could say now.

He touched his lips to hers, and pleasure jolted to her heart, down her arms, down her legs. Tilting his head, he kissed her deeper. Once. Twice. Again. Until she sighed and leaned into him, tangled her fingers in his cool hair. He claimed her mouth with his tongue in a way that was new and familiar at once. She kissed him back with everything in her, trying to tell him all the things she wasn’t articulate enough to say.

“God, Stella,” he rasped against her lips, his dark eyes dazed and heavy-lidded. “You learned that fast.”

Before she could respond, he took her mouth again. She forgot about the time, forgot about work, even forgot about her anxiety. His large body rubbed against hers, and she arched into him, reveling in his closeness.

Her phone buzzed with her mother’s ring tone.

Michael tore away at once, flushed and breathing heavily. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he stared deep into her eyes, looking like he was two seconds away from kissing her again.