Out in Spring (Out in College 6)

I frowned. “Who?”

“His name is Henry. He’s straight as an arrow,” he groused. “I have a habit of crushing on unlikely suitors.”

“Suitors?” I repeated, knitting my brow a little more.

“You know what I mean.” Ned waved dismissively and continued. “Henry is a nice guy and hot eye candy too. But I’d like to think I’m too smart to fall for a heterosexual guy. Or a guy like Jules, who’s looking for a placeholder till the sugar daddy of his dreams comes along. A lot of time has passed, and I have more experience in…”

“In what?”

“Sex stuff,” he replied in a small voice.

“Keep going,” I prodded.

“No, I think I’m digging myself a hole. A sex hole.”

He mumbled those last couple of words, but I heard him and come on, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t. “A sex hole, eh? Sounds like something I should know about.”

“Oh, my God. Okay, now that I’m beyond embarrassed…”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m just messin’ with you,” I said with a laugh. “And for the record, it sounds like Jules did you a favor. You got a little extra education early on. Now you can probably spot a kink-meister a mile away.”

Ned busted up. “If he’s wearing assless leather chaps and cracking a whip, yes. Otherwise…nope. I’ve dated mostly boring, vanilla guys. I doubt any of them were into kink.”

“Oh, please. Someone who works in a bookstore should know better than to judge a book by its cover,” I teased.

“Touché. What about you?”

“Are you asking me if I’m into kinky shit? If so, the answer is fuck, yes.”

Ned opened his mouth, then sputtered. “Uh, um…good to know. I think. But this conversation has officially gone rogue.”

“You started it,” I singsonged.

“Me? How?”

“‘Sex hole’ ring any bells?” I massaged his shoulder with a laugh when he slapped his palm over his forehead and shook his head. “I’m teasing you. Don’t listen to me. I can’t help myself sometimes. Blame it on my parents. They raised us weird. Conversations at the dinner table might start with a tame recap of school, sports, and current events, but they always end with a twist.”

“What kind of twist?”

“It varies. Let’s see.” I tapped my chin, purposely drawing out the moment when he shifted in his seat, so his knee nudged mine. His eyes were bright with ready humor, and any trace of embarrassment or general discomfort about being here with me disappeared. We were just a couple of guys getting to know each other. “When I was home over the holidays, we had a mid-meal dance-off one night, followed by a game of charades where you could only choose something having to do with Italian food…that kind of thing. Oh, and another night, my brother told us about a gift he bought for his girlfriend. He did a terrible job explaining, so he decided to show us instead. He put the bag on the table and dug through five pairs of lacy underwear. One fell onto my grandmother’s head. She didn’t miss a beat. She tucked the lace bits around her ears and asked everyone how she looked.”

Ned’s laughter moved through me like a warm breeze on a cold night. I studied the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and fought the urge to run my fingers along the curve of his jaw. He had strong, sexy features, like big hands and a broad chest. But he was fine-boned too. My wrists and my forearms were twice the size of his. Yet his toned biceps indicated that he paid attention to fitness. I hadn’t spent time with a guy I was attracted to in a while. I was a little taken aback by the unexpected flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

“That’s hysterical. Your family sounds fun. Where are you from?”

“Orinda. It’s in the Bay Area, about twenty minutes outside of San Fran. That’s without traffic, though. And there’s always traffic. How ’bout you?”

“I’m from San Diego. My parents are engineers, and they both teach at a private college near La Jolla. My older sister and her husband are engineers too. They run the firm my dad started, and after I graduate…I’m supposed to join them.”

“Ah. A family of smarties. Do you want to work for your folks, or did you have another plan?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Seems like a lot of togetherness, and the Baileys aren’t as fun as your family. They’re good people, but they’re more likely to recite the periodic table of elements at dinner than break into a singalong,” he assured me with a half chuckle.

“It was a dance-off,” I corrected. “It started with a Missy Elliott song and kind of took on a life of its own and yeah…Grandma got in on the action.”

“With or without the thong?”

I barked a laugh. “Without. Although that would have been funny as hell. I’ll suggest it next time I’m home. And then I’ll put the video on YouTube. Don’t look so scandalized. She’d freakin’ love it!”