For Richer, for Richest Read Online Free
Author: Gina Robinson
the air conditioning for words she wasn't ready to speak. Desperate to break the silence and tell her how I felt. Watching her with a hunger that burned deep inside me, looking for a ghost of hope. Longing for the normalness of holding the woman I loved in my arms after being blown away with the force of making love to her and saying I love you to each other.
I flopped my arm over my forehead and lay on my back, looking at the ceiling, letting the lights of the city wash over us as I caught my breath. Riding high on the pleasure. Hiding my disappointment at her silence.
She turned toward me and smiled her slow, sated, sexy smile. Ran her fingers over my naked chest until I shivered with pleasure. Smiling because she liked teasing me with her touch. She wanted another literal rise out of me. And she was about to get it.
I wanted more. Four simple words: I love you, Jus .
I wanted to say, I love you, Kay . And not worry about recrimination. Or seeing her face fall. Or the panicked look while she frantically tried to let me down easy. Or say, Oh, Jus, with that pitying look in her eyes, like I was still that nerdy, hopeful guy, I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression. This is just sex.
I couldn't risk scaring her off. I needed her in too many ways. I wanted to keep making love to her. I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving. Or the strain of tiptoeing around each other.
I'd almost blown it and blurted it out when we first got home. It was just a damn good thing she'd cut me off, thinking I was about to ask for sex. A damn good thing.
Even so, I smiled. Because it was impossible not to. I was still that happy. "So, how was it, coach?" It slipped out. I couldn't help it. "How did I do?"
"Coach?" She laughed.
"Isn't that what you are?"
She leaned up on one elbow, her head on her hand. "Maybe. But you know, it's gauche to ask."
"Not when you're asking your coach. Coaches give advice on technique."
"Do they?" She seemed amused.
I nodded, probably too eagerly.
"You really want to know?" She ran the back of her fingers over my beard.
I nodded.
"Solid B."
My face fell. "B?" I was stunned. "Harsh. I put everything I had into it."
She laughed again, still teasing me. But it was more like torment. "You get an A for effort, Jus. You always get an A for effort. And enthusiasm. But you're still a novice. We weren't fighting against each other like two cats in bag. But our rhythm isn't exactly smooth and in tune yet. Anyway, I can't give you an A so early in our year together. You'll get a big head and stop trying."
"Ah." I nodded, trying to keep my bravado up. "You're one of those kind of graders. You don't give top scores until the end of the semester. So you can prove I've learned something at your hands."
She cupped my face. "Oh, you've learned plenty already."
"Out of curiosity, what does a guy have to do to get top marks?"
"Be creative. You have to surprise me. Top students go above and beyond." She gave my face a playful tap and looked past me out the glass wall to the view of the city. "You have one thing going for you. It's totally hot making love with no curtains. Thrilling, like people could see us. But safe, because you know they can't."
She slid out of bed and walked to the window, where she stood, silhouetted against the city. I sat up, about to join her when she turned and headed toward the bathroom.
Someday, I would make love to her standing, pressed against that glass. And she would happily give me my A plus. I wasn't the kind of student who ever got anything less.
----
K ayla
Justin's BMW was sleek and showy and drew attention when he parked it in the children's hospital's maze of a parking lot. He zipped into a tiny, regular spot, apparently unconcerned about door dings. I generally didn't care much about cars, other than that they were comfortable, clean, and ran without incident. I would just as soon have driven a middle-class vehicle. Status models made me nervous. The thought of someone
I flopped my arm over my forehead and lay on my back, looking at the ceiling, letting the lights of the city wash over us as I caught my breath. Riding high on the pleasure. Hiding my disappointment at her silence.
She turned toward me and smiled her slow, sated, sexy smile. Ran her fingers over my naked chest until I shivered with pleasure. Smiling because she liked teasing me with her touch. She wanted another literal rise out of me. And she was about to get it.
I wanted more. Four simple words: I love you, Jus .
I wanted to say, I love you, Kay . And not worry about recrimination. Or seeing her face fall. Or the panicked look while she frantically tried to let me down easy. Or say, Oh, Jus, with that pitying look in her eyes, like I was still that nerdy, hopeful guy, I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression. This is just sex.
I couldn't risk scaring her off. I needed her in too many ways. I wanted to keep making love to her. I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving. Or the strain of tiptoeing around each other.
I'd almost blown it and blurted it out when we first got home. It was just a damn good thing she'd cut me off, thinking I was about to ask for sex. A damn good thing.
Even so, I smiled. Because it was impossible not to. I was still that happy. "So, how was it, coach?" It slipped out. I couldn't help it. "How did I do?"
"Coach?" She laughed.
"Isn't that what you are?"
She leaned up on one elbow, her head on her hand. "Maybe. But you know, it's gauche to ask."
"Not when you're asking your coach. Coaches give advice on technique."
"Do they?" She seemed amused.
I nodded, probably too eagerly.
"You really want to know?" She ran the back of her fingers over my beard.
I nodded.
"Solid B."
My face fell. "B?" I was stunned. "Harsh. I put everything I had into it."
She laughed again, still teasing me. But it was more like torment. "You get an A for effort, Jus. You always get an A for effort. And enthusiasm. But you're still a novice. We weren't fighting against each other like two cats in bag. But our rhythm isn't exactly smooth and in tune yet. Anyway, I can't give you an A so early in our year together. You'll get a big head and stop trying."
"Ah." I nodded, trying to keep my bravado up. "You're one of those kind of graders. You don't give top scores until the end of the semester. So you can prove I've learned something at your hands."
She cupped my face. "Oh, you've learned plenty already."
"Out of curiosity, what does a guy have to do to get top marks?"
"Be creative. You have to surprise me. Top students go above and beyond." She gave my face a playful tap and looked past me out the glass wall to the view of the city. "You have one thing going for you. It's totally hot making love with no curtains. Thrilling, like people could see us. But safe, because you know they can't."
She slid out of bed and walked to the window, where she stood, silhouetted against the city. I sat up, about to join her when she turned and headed toward the bathroom.
Someday, I would make love to her standing, pressed against that glass. And she would happily give me my A plus. I wasn't the kind of student who ever got anything less.
----
K ayla
Justin's BMW was sleek and showy and drew attention when he parked it in the children's hospital's maze of a parking lot. He zipped into a tiny, regular spot, apparently unconcerned about door dings. I generally didn't care much about cars, other than that they were comfortable, clean, and ran without incident. I would just as soon have driven a middle-class vehicle. Status models made me nervous. The thought of someone
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