He jumped as I cupped his balls, cursing as his eyes flew open and he rolled, pinning me into the sheets.

“Oh, God. Bad?” I asked, panicked. Hadn’t the books said those were good?

Clay heaved a laugh, shaking his head before he dropped his forehead to mine. “Good,” he breathed. “At least, for me.”

“Then why did you stop me?”

“Because I don’t want to come before the lesson is over.”

I bit my lip, and Clay kissed my shy smile before rolling over to the right of me. He balanced himself on one elbow, the free hand trailing down and drawing a line from one of my hips to the other.

I shivered under the touch, eyes floating up to meet his.

He swallowed, dipping just the tip of his fingers beneath the band of my sweats. “Can I touch you, Giana?” he whispered.

I’d never known such simple words could unravel me.

I nodded, and just like he had, I lifted my hips, using the arm not trapped beneath him to help him push my sweats down. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath them, and Clay’s nose flared at the sight of me bare before him.

“I didn’t… I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to like… shave or something. Of course, I didn’t think we’d be… I usually just have this little strip,” I explained, cheeks flooding with heat the longer Clay stared between my legs. I bent my knees together. “I can jump in the shower real quick and—”

“Stop,” he told me, catching my knees before they could meet in the middle. He lightly pressed against the inside of my left one until I opened again, and his hand slowly trailed down my inner thigh toward the apex.

He swallowed, pulling his gaze up to meet mine.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

I wasn’t allowed the opportunity to refute that claim, not before his attention was back between my legs, and his hand slid farther up.

He cupped me.

Gentle at first, and then firmer, the whole heat of his palm covering me as I gasped for air.

“God, you are wet,” he husked, gliding his fingers between my lips as I rolled my hips involuntarily. “This is so fucking hot, Kitten.”

All I could do was hold onto him, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt while the other twisted in the sheets.

“Has anyone done this to you?” he asked, the heel of his palm rubbing against me lightly as he slipped his middle finger a little deeper between my folds.

“Just me,” I breathed.

Clay paused, his eyes finding mine. “Are you sure—”

“Do it,” I begged, rolling my hips again. “Please, Clay.” I covered his hand with mine just like he’d done with me before, pressing his finger deeper until the tip of it touched my entrance.