The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 3)

“Boyfriend huh?” My ex crosses his thick arms, hawk-like quarterback gaze studying my boyfriend. “So there’s no chance of you and me, you know…” His eyebrows do that weird, inappropriate wriggling thing again.

Rhett replies before I can get any infuriated words out. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Thad’s hands go up. “What? I’m just checking. Some couples are into that.”

“Well we’re not.” I put on my lying face. “It was really good seeing you again, but we’re heading out. Say hey to Wilson for me, would ya?”

“Why don’t you come over and say hi for yourself?”

“Another time maybe.”

“All right.” He’s so oblivious. “You should stop by the row sometime, stop in at the house.”

Um, yeah…no. I’m not an underclassman anymore; his popularity doesn’t lure me like it used to—like it does so many clueless girls, chasing the name and not the heart.

I snuggle into Rhett’s side, content. “Good luck with your season.”

“Yeah.” Green eyes drift to the guy at my side. “Yours too, Rabideaux. It was good meeting you. Take good care of my girl here.”

There’s a long, tension-charged pause. Then,

“She’s not your girl.” Rhett’s voice is low. Steely. “She’s mine.”

Whoa.

Whoa.

Whoa.

My mouth gapes, tuning them out, because what the hell was that?

She’s mine.

And the way he says it? With conviction, in his sexy southern accent? The insides of my panties are melting. Rhett, drawing boundaries, letting my ex-boyfriend know he crossed a line? Yes please.

I tighten my hold around his waist when Thad finally saunters off, pressing myself and my breasts against him, “That. Was. The sexiest thing. Ever.”

He rolls his gorgeous brown eyes. “What the hell were you doin’ datin’ that dickhole? I can’t fuckin’ believe you—”

I cut him off with a kiss. “Please don’t remind me. It’s not my finest moment.”

“I know, but damn Laurel, what a fuckin’—”

“Honey, please. Stop. I know he’s a dick. I get it.” I brush at an imaginary piece of hair on his forehead. “Not all guys are as amazing as you, okay? You’re a unicorn boyfriend.”

This piques his interest. “What the hell is a unicorn boyfriend?”

“Rare and hard to find in the wild. And you’re mine,” I croon in his ear. “What should we do now that our date is over, Rhett?” In the middle of the bowling alley, for everyone to see, my tongue traces his ear lobe. “Tell me, baby.”

“God that fucking word is my kryptonite,” he mumbles. “I want…to…”

“What?”

“I want to take you home and…” He stalls, unable to get the words out; I know he’s not accustomed to vocalizing what he wants—not just yet, but he’s been trying.

He’s getting there.

I’m patient, waiting him out.

“Je veux te baiser.” He nuzzles my neck, mouth on my pulse. “I want to fuck you.”

Holy shit, he did not just say that.

I have the biggest lady boner right now and do my best to nod my agreement without my legs giving out on me. “Yes.”

“Really?” He pulls back to study my face. “Just like that, we get to leave and have sex because I asked for it?”

“Yes,” I repeat, hands clasping around the back of his neck.

“Huh, how fucking cool is that?” he muses. “It’s really that easy?”

My laugh is light, arms still around his neck. “I’m your girlfriend now—of course I want you to take me home and…you know…” I hope my voice sounds sultry and that it hits his cerebellum in just the right spot. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, now I’m hard.”

“I know,” I purr. “I can feel it.”

“What if I can’t wait ’til we get home?”

“You mean, like—do it in the Jeep?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.”

He grabs my hand, pulling. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Laurel

The last time I was in this bedroom, Rhett was leaving for a wrestling meet. Kissing my shoulder and telling me goodbye after a morning quickie.

The comforter is undone, a small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. He kicks them to the closet so they’re out of the way, slides his jacket off and hangs it on his desk chair. Pulls off his hat and runs a figure through his trimmed-up hair. Stands in his navy shirt, a blue button-down with a collar.

“I love that you dressed up for me tonight.” I float across the room, immediately toying with the top button. Pluck it open. Then another, and another. “You look so handsome.”

Three buttons.

Four more and my hands are skimming across his warm, bare skin, parting the shirt and slipping it down his biceps. Rhett’s chocolate-colored eyes are a storm of desire, nostrils flaring. Lips parted, a small puff of pent-up air escapes when my palms breeze over his pecs. His beautiful, firm pecs.

I glide my fingers along his collarbone, rising to kiss his bare skin, sliding my hands around his neck. Our lips fuse in a perfect combination of desperation and calm, Rhett’s hands tugging my shirt up my stomach, lifting. Dragging it up my torso until I’m raising my arms so he can lift it over my head. I shake my hair when he tosses it to his desk, shimmy out of my pants.

Fumble with the buckle on his jeans, unzip them and shove them down his hips. By the time he steps out of them and kicks them aside, I’m already on the bed, working the clasp of my bra.

He climbs up next to me, naked, palms drifting along my smooth legs. Tip of his nose caressing the inside of my thigh. Mouth kissing the apex of my legs. Sucking. Licking my belly button, ribcage, nipples.

I lie there, letting his mouth explore my body, watching as he goes, eyes drifting closed, each sensation greater than the last.

I stroke his hair while he suckles, hovering above me, braced by his bulging arms. Big, strong, and gentle, he murmurs to me when he threads his fingers through my red hair, mouth at my temple. My body stiffens at his words.

“Je t’aime.”

We both gasp.

Gasp again when he moves his hips.

I cling to him as he begins a gentle thrust, rocking back and forth, braced on his elbows. Whispering into my ear. Rotating his hips, pelvis pressed into mine, deep as he can go.

In silence we make love, mattress and bed groaning under our weight in the sexiest possible way.

“I love you so much.” I kiss his neck, the throbbing inside me swelling. “Oh, Rhett.”

He buries his face in my neck, short puffs of air as he pumps his hips into me. Slowly. Up and down. Lazy circles. Lips on the skin under my ear, latching on. Kissing me there. My shoulder. My jaw and the corner of my lips.

Sucking on my bottom lip, moaning into my mouth.

Up and down, up and down.

Lazy circles.

My head tips back when he goes deeper still, hands burying under my ass, lifting. Lips sucking. Tongues rolling. Twirling.

Tingles.

A spark.

Quivers.

My thighs begin to shake, head tipped back when he breathes my name. The tip of his dick finds my g-spot, penetrating in just the right—

“Uhhhhhhh, that feels g-goo-d,” I moan, lips parted. Sweat dampens my brow as I gasp again. “G-God I love you.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” comes his guttural reply. “Je t’aime bébé.”

His words are too much; I can’t say anything else, it just all feels…way t-too damn g-good.

I-Indescribable.

Oh God, oh G-God…

His hips drive into me once. Twice. Jerk, glutes stiffening, pumping and pulsating into me. When I feel his warm come, my own orgasm hits home, long and hard and intense.

My toes curl.

Mouth opens.

Throat moans.

Hands pull at his ass, gripping it, pulling him in.

Rhett’s still shaking, pelvis spasming every few seconds, our breathing labored.

We lie like this for I don’t know how long, wrapped in each other’s arms, my head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his racing heart.