The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

A funny smile touched his lips as he considered the glowing screen. “You gave me your real number. I’m surprised you’re not expecting mine in return.”

“This is better for you, right?” Because it was definitely better for her.

Once lessons ended, neither of them wanted her calling him over and over just to listen to him hanging up on her. She couldn’t see herself acting so desperate. But she’d never been obsessed with a person before, either.

Not that she was. Yet.

His facial expression was difficult to read as he said, “It is better for me. Thank you.”

He fished his phone out from his jacket pocket and tapped through a series of screens on both gadgets. After a few moments, a vibrating sound emanated from her purse.

“Done,” he said with a smile.

“Perfect. Thanks.” She forced her lips into an answering smile.

He took a step toward the door before he paused. “We should do something new next Friday. I could take you out.”

Her heart squeezed. “Out?”

“Maybe dancing? Drinking? At a club? I hear there’s this new place in San Francisco . . .”

“I don’t dance.” And she didn’t drink. And even though she’d never been clubbing, she was certain she didn’t do that, either.

“I can teach you. It’ll help with lessons when we get to them later in the evening. Trust me.”

Trust.

This was the second time he’d told her to trust him. What would he think if she told him how difficult it was for her to do things like dancing and drinking? Going out was supposed to be fun. For her, it was work—hard work. She could interact with people if she wanted to, but it cost her. Some times more than others.

In this case, was the reward worth the price?

“How will it help with lessons?” she asked.

“You think too much. It’ll help get you out of your mind, make you relax. Also, I’m really good at dancing. We’d have fun. Are you up to it?”

She told herself it was the idea of getting out of her mind—whatever that meant—and checking boxes on the lesson plans that decided for her. But that was only a small part of it.

The biggest part was the eager sparkle in Michael’s eyes. He wanted to go, and he wanted her to go with him. It was like a date. But not, of course. She knew it wasn’t a date.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to dance.”

“Does that mean you’ll go?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

She lifted her chin and nodded.

White teeth flashed as he smiled. “Great. I’ll make plans and keep you posted. Looking forward to it.” He leaned down and pressed a fast kiss to her cheek before he left the room.

Stella bolted the door and sank onto the bed in a daze. These were supposed to be simple sex lessons. Why was it getting so complicated? Why had her body betrayed her? And why did she want to please Michael so badly she’d go clubbing for him? Who was she? She didn’t know herself anymore.

{ CHAP+ER }

9

“It’s really bad to eat dessert first, you know,” Stella commented.

She knew she sounded pedantic and boring, but she couldn’t help the nervous chatter spilling from her mouth. Her anxiety over clubbing had been escalating exponentially during the past week, and the main event was just hours away now.

Also, Michael was holding her hand.