The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 3)

Jesus, what the hell am I trying to do? I sound bat-shit crazy. Look crazier, pacing Laurel’s yard, back and forth in front of her damn door, a light drizzle taking its cue from the dark clouds above, adding to my dark mood.

“Shit. What am I doing?”

A raindrop falls from the sky. Then another, until the sky opens up and I’m literally standing in the mothereffing rain.

Suddenly she appears in the driveway, barefoot, in a t-shirt and tight black leggings, running to her car on her tiptoes. Yanks the door open, ass sticking out of the cab when she leans in, swiping an unseen object from the center console. Slams the door and turns back toward the house.

She doesn’t see me standing here.

“Laurel,” I call her name in the rain, loud enough that she spins on the grass, brows raised, surprised to see me in her yard.

Shocked, actually.

“Rhett?” She steps toward me, clutching her phone charger. “Rhett, what are you doing here?”

She squints her blue eyes up at the sky as beads of water blanket her hair. Her skin is already dewy.

“I came to see you.”

“Okay.” She smiles, giving a hasty glance up at the sky. “Do you want to come inside?”

“No.” My head shakes, adamant, the brim of my ball cap keeping only my face dry. “No, I need to say what I came to say.”

Laurel nods slowly, hair now completely saturated, falling in limp sheets to her shoulders. She tightly winds her phone cord and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans. “All right.”

I take one step forward, then another, until I’m crossing the lawn. Until I’m not two feet in front of her. “I was goin’ to come over with a sign—you know the green flyers they hung on campus? The Get Rett Laid ones? I was gonna make a new one, for you.”

God I sound dumb.

“Oh yeah?” She closes the gap between us, blue eyes practically dancing they’re so alive. “What would the poster have said?”

I brush the water off her forehead, eyebrows. “I had one all made up. It said”—I clear my throat, nervously gathering up my courage—“Rhett Gets Love.” Pause. “Jesus Christ, did that sound as fuckin’ dumb out loud as it sounded in my head?”

She laughs, tipping her head back, black mascara beginning to run a little. I swipe at the mess with my thumb, taking her face in my huge hands. Lean in close when Laurel cuffs my wrists with her hands, holding on to me tight.

“That doesn’t sound dumb at all. It sounds romantic.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Rain-drenched hair sticks to her lips. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asks.

“Not yet.” Our foreheads touch. “I have somethin’ to say first.”

Patiently, she waits me out in the rain, breathing heavy, shirt soaked, nipples straining against the fabric. Bare feet in the water-drenched lawn.

“I’m sorry I let you walk out of the library. I was scared.”

“I know,” comes her murmur. “So was I.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t.” Her lips steal a quick kiss to the tip of my nose. “I promise.”

Then here goes nothing. “Je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi.” I’m falling in love with you. “Je t’aime, Laurel.”

She tries pulling back so she can see my face. “What did you just say?”

“I said—”

“I know what je t’aime is, baby. I just can’t believe you said it.” Her hand brushes down the side of my jawline, sweeping at the rain. “Say it again—in English.”

“I love you.”

Her cheeks are flushed—whether it’s from the cold or my declaration, I do not know. “You love me.” She says it breathlessly. Giddy.

“I do.” I cup her face, mouth hovering over her damp lips. “I fucking do.”

“Now are you going to kiss me?”

“I thought you wanted to go inside?” I can’t resist teasing her. “Get out of the rain?”

“No, I can’t stand it anymore. I want your lips on me now.”

“Then yeah, now I’m going to kiss you.”

As if in time to the perfect beat, our mouths meet, breath and rain and tongues all in one effortlessly choreographed motion. Heads tilted, I lick the water off her lips, suck it off her tongue.

“You feel so warm. So good.” Laurel’s hands leave my wrists, straying down my ribcage. She presses her breasts against my chest. “Let’s go inside. Get out of the cold.”

My mouth drifts from her lips to her neck. “Want to get naked?” Holy shit, did those words just come out of my mouth?

Laurel moans against the column of my neck. “I like it when you’re assertive. It gets me hot when you tell me what you want.”

I back away, taking her hand, marching her to the entrance. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”

“I am definitely so wet.” She giggles beside me, stumbling on the ground. I halt in my steps. When I sweep her up in one motion, she gasps. Wraps her arms around my neck and plants her lips on my mouth. “You are so sexy.”

I manage to get her through the door without killing us both on the rickety wooden steps, kicking off my shoes in the kitchen and the door closed behind me.

Her roommate—Donovan, I think she said his name was—is sitting at the counter when we bust in while sucking face, his mouth slack-jawed at the sight of us, soaking and dripping from the rain.

“Um, hiii?”

“Donovan,” Laurel says breathlessly, still flushed. “This is Rhett. Rhett, my roommate Donovan.”

“Hey man.” I give him a nod. “We’re just going to…” My head jerks toward the hallway.

“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”

That’s good, because I’m already halfway down the hall, walking down it sideways so I don’t bang Laurel into the wall, still carrying this sexy, waterlogged wisp of a girl until I find the bathroom. She feels so fucking good in my arms I could carry her around all damn day and not get tired of it.

Setting her down, I bend to start the warm water in the shower.

Wordlessly, we start stripping once the door is closed, tearing off our clothes in tandem. I peel off my sweatshirt. T-shirt. Track pants and briefs, kicking them into a sodden pile.

Laurel stands in just a lace bra and black leggings, and though she hardly needs my help getting naked, I get down on my knees, pulling down the waistband of her pants, kissing her abs in the process. Kissing the tender flesh above her panty line.

Pull the black fabric down her hips. Thighs. She steps out of them, one foot at a time until they’re lying in a heap on top of mine.

My mouth settles on the mound beneath her panties; they’re damp too, but I’m determined to make them wet. Her hands grip the counter, bracing herself when I hike her leg over my shoulder. Bury my face between her thighs and suck through her underwear.

Her head tips back, moan throaty when I pull those down too. Tongue sinks into her pussy when her legs spread wider.

The sounds she makes are unintelligible. Indelicate. Desperate and quiet.

So fucking hot.

And she’s all mine.

When she comes, I lift her effortlessly, setting her in the shower. Step in behind her, under the spray, unclasping her bra and tossing it onto the tile bathroom floor.

I take a pink bar of soap, lathering up my hands, palms gliding up her naked, damp flesh. Run them over her front, cupping her heavy breasts.

God, I’ve always wanted to do that.

And now I am.

My hands are on her tits and my hard dick is wedged between her ass cheeks where it’s nice and tight and warm. It’s like fucking heaven and I don’t want to leave.

Laurel moans again, arm reaching around to grab me when my mouth hits the column of her neck and sucks her shoulder, my hips beginning a slow thrust against her crack.

We groan.

She turns.

Goes down on her knees, water sluicing off her back and my chest as she takes my cock in her mouth, head bobbing.

I brace my hands on the shower wall for support. Legs weak. Mind blank.