“There,” I declare in placid triumph.

“Damn, I must be a horrible teacher. Is that what I showed you last night?” he says in mock disappointment.

I stare at his chest and shake my head, feeling like a kid who got caught sneaking candy before dinner.

“How did I kiss you last night?” It isn’t a rhetorical question. He wants me to answer.

“Deep,” I say without thinking. “A-And long,” I add with a shaky breath and a blush. That’s the only way to describe his kiss. Other than being simply amazing.

“Hey.” He lifts my chin up so our eyes meet again. “I know you’re nervous, but you shouldn’t be. This isn’t a big deal. I know you can do this.” Great, now Austin’s giving me a pep talk. Hello, Self-esteem. Meet All Time Low.

Closing my eyes, I try to think back to his kiss last night. I take a deep breath and this time I pull him down to me. He leans down without resisting. I run through the checklist I made last night. I brush my lips across his as I tilt my head to the side. I place my lips on his, lightly teasing his bottom lip with my tongue.

“Open your lips,” I whisper against him.

“Yes, boss,” he quips. I stifle an annoyed sigh and slide my tongue into his mouth. He lets out a soft moan and eases his hands down to my butt.

Holy shit! You just made Austin Jacobs moan!

The sound fills me with a keen sense of womanly power. I relax into the kiss, sliding my fingers into his hair, grabbing a handful, and moaning myself. I flick my tongue around his mouth. I’m lost in our intertwined lips, our bodies pressed together and our hands exploring each other. If I had to try to name this feeling it would be bliss. I only pull away when I’m breathless.

“How was that?” The cockiness makes my own voice sound foreign.

“Damn, you’re a quick study,” he jokes. “But practice makes perfect,” he teases, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead and a light slap on my butt before returning to the kitchen and starting our dinner.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he blurts out, pulling me out of my daydream and giving me conversational whiplash.

This guy must be a riot at dinner parties.

“Yes.” I don’t balk at his intrusiveness. I’m riding high on my new sense of empowerment from that kiss.

“Toys or fingers?” Thankfully his back is turned, so he doesn’t see me blush with embarrassment.

So much for sexual empowerment.

“Both.” My voice shakes, but I hope he doesn’t notice it.

“Watch porn?”

What is this, X-rated twenty questions?

He’s so blasé. He could be asking if I’ve seen the latest Marvel movie instead of categorizing my complete sexual history. I have never talked to anyone about this stuff. I’m so far outside of my comfort zone, I might as well be on Pluto!