Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Greater good,” Robbie repeated slowly. “Meaning . . . ?”
“Meaning, if you say yes to . . . teaching me some moves, the best part is that you won’t— you don’t get attached. It’s guilt free.” Skylar gave a rueful laugh. “And come on, it’s for a worthy cause.”
Brow puckered, Robbie stared out at the highway, his white-knuckled fist gripping the strap of his seat belt. Uh-oh. Any second now he’d ask to be taken home. “I strongly disagree with the way you’re making yourself sound like a charity case, Skylar,” he said instead. “And I don’t . . . I don’t want you to have moves that other girls have.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” When she only raised an eyebrow at him, he visibly searched for a qualifying statement. “You have your own moves. You just haven’t located them yet.”
“Let’s say I believe that. How am I going to locate them?”
Robbie swallowed loudly. “WWBD,” he said to himself. “WWBD.”
Skylar did a double take. “What does that mean?”
“What would Burgess do? I’m trying to imagine him in this situation.”
“And?”
“Turns out it only works for hockey. I got nothing.”
All right, clearly he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of teaching her how to operate around men. Drop it. Now. Pushing too hard on something like this would make her behavior as bad as Robbie’s that day at the baseball field. “Should I stop at Dunkin’ or Denny’s?”
Now it was Robbie’s turn to do a double take. “That’s it? We’re done talking about this?”
“Yes. Easy as that.”
“Oh, sure, easy. Right.”
“Dunkin’ or—”
“What kind of moves are we talking about? Flirting and . . . what?”
Skylar took a very heavy gulp. Braced. “If you open my glove compartment, there’s a white leather planner. There’s a slip of paper folded in the middle. It’s an . . . itinerary. Of potential lessons, so to speak.”
He almost broke the glove compartment getting it open. Seeing her beloved planner in Robbie’s hands gave her a warm, unexpected flip in her stomach. No one had ever touched that planner, save her, and his long, blunt—and somewhat crooked—fingers looked so masculine tracing along the softness of the spine, the breath caught in her throat.
What is wrong with you?
Skylar gripped the wheel and ordered her pulse back into its usual rhythm, but the sound of him unfolding the paper shot it sky-high again.
Chapter Eight
Robbie stared down at the neatly lettered timeline in front of him.
It was a five-day calendar of the current week. Each day, there was a new lesson, and each lesson had been penned in a different color.
Such innocent teals and pinks for writing phrases like:
Sunday: Flirting
Monday: Date Night Practice
Tuesday: Making Out
Wednesday: Blow Job Workshop
Thursday: Main Event (Maybe)
Fucking. That meant fucking. Maybe.
Son. Of a bitch.
This was the hottest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Besides Skylar. And his dick was acting accordingly, turning to stone in his sweatpants, perspiration starting to bead at the hairline hidden beneath his ballcap. Let me get this straight. If he went along with this plan to be her professor of love, every day for the next week, he would not only be allowed to perform these activities with Skylar, he would be encouraged to do them.
Teach her how to do them.
He didn’t deserve to be this incredible woman’s sex tutor.
At all. Like at all.
Which is why there was a catch. A huge one.
He’d be teaching her all this for the benefit of another dude.
So . . . at the end of the day, was this heaven or hell?
Jesus, though. Even knowing hell might lie on the other side of this five-day crash course, he couldn’t stop himself. Not a chance in hell. Even the idea of flirting with her was making his balls throb, let alone a blow job workshop.
Had a more magical phrase ever been uttered?
And dammit, even knowing these skills would eventually be put to use on someone else, he hated the possibility of her going through life thinking she was . . . less than. In any way. An ache that had started to form at the beginning of the conversation intensified now.
I have to show her she’s the holy grail. She needs to know.
The fact that Skylar, a Division 1 all-American who could cut him off at the knees with a well-timed insult, had any doubt in herself at all made Robbie wonder.
Where the hell had that self-doubt come from?
“You’re very quiet over there.”
“Sorry, I’ve never seen blow jobs on an itinerary before.”
Ever so slightly, she winced. “I grew up around my brother’s friends. I know how much those skills are valued. But we can skip that one if—”
His booming laughter almost caused her to crash the car. “No, no. It stays.”
Skylar blinked over at him. “Wait, so you’re in? You’ll help me?”
Robbie could practically hear Sig, Burgess, and Mailer shouting at him to say no immediately, turn back now before it was too late and Robbie ended up falling for this girl. Because he was halfway there already and this sexy list almost guaranteed he’d be wrapped around her little finger by the end of the week.