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  • Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Before Jamaica Lane (Page 37)     
    Before Jamaica Lane(On Dublin Street #3)(37) by Samantha Young
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    As did Nate’s.

    I felt his warm hand on my hip and he gave me a hard squeeze before stepping back, allowing the oxygen to flow freely into my lungs again. ‘This is the wrong place to tease you.’ His voice was low, thick with … sex?

    He was just as turned on as I was.

    Surprised, I gave him a nod, brushing my hair back from my face. ‘Yeah. We should … we should go in.’

    ‘You go on.’ He gestured to the door. ‘I’ll be in, in a second.’

    My hand was on the doorknob and I was just about to step inside when his voice, wrapped around my name, stopped me in my tracks.

    ‘Yeah?’ I looked back at him over my shoulder.

    ‘We’ll start tonight.’ Nate’s expression was filled with sexual promise that sent a shiver coursing down my spine as though he’d trailed a finger down my naked back. ‘I’ll come by your place around nine.’

    I could barely eat at dinner.

    And now it was eight fifty in the evening and Nate was due at my apartment in ten minutes. I was hoping that as soon as he walked through the door some of the nerves would at least give way to anticipation, because all I was feeling at the moment was anxious. Thankfully it was a massive step up from the fear I knew I’d be feeling if it was Benjamin I was expecting to walk through that door. With Nate there was an element of safety because I knew him so well. I knew he would never hurt me or make me feel stupid or ugly or anything negative. He was the perfect tutor to walk me through this because I trusted him completely.

    I’d showered when I got home and then put on a light layer of makeup. Under my slacks and shirt I was wearing my favorite set of lingerie. It was white satin edged in lace and it looked nice against my olive skin. I was hoping it would distract him from my belly and my flabby thighs.

    ‘Do not use the word “flabby,” ’ I admonished myself, remembering Nate’s warning.

    Not really knowing how to act or what to do, I hurried around the apartment trying to tidy the piles of books and copies of Nate’s review magazine I had lying everywhere. I wondered if perhaps we needed some mood music, and turned on the radio. Then I immediately decided that was a bad idea since it wasn’t me, and Nate would know it wasn’t me and guess how much I was freaking out over the situation. So I turned on the television instead. Five minutes later I decided it suggested indifference and I didn’t want him to think I was indifferent either.

    I was so busy flapping around like an idiot that when Nate rang my buzzer I ended up tripping over a pile of books, scrambled to my feet only to slide along my wooden floors on the socks I was wearing, and crashed against the buzzer. At least I hit the entry button. I opened my apartment door and took a deep breath.

    Feeling sweaty and icky and not the least bit attractive, I frowned down at my socks and wondered why the hell I was wearing them in the first place. They were not sexy. I stooped to take them off, but the right one got stuck. I pulled and pulled, cursing the little mothereffer to hell as I hopped about on one foot. I’d just managed to peel the darn thing off when I hit my left ankle on the coffee table, taking a knock to a funny bone, and I went crashing down, whacking my head on the soft cushion of my couch.

    ‘Jesus, are you okay?’

    Pushing back my hair, I gazed up wide-eyed at Nate, who was now standing in my doorway. ‘I’m fine,’ I told him breathlessly.

    He shut the door behind him, his eyes roaming my body – probably for signs of injury. ‘Are you sure?’

    ‘Of course,’ I told him brightly and then realized I had a pair of sweaty socks in my hands. Not sexy. I stuffed them quickly under the couch and got to my feet, swaying a little with the rush of the movement.

    Laughter curled the corner of his mouth as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. ‘Are you sure you’re okay to do this? We don’t have to.’

    I ran a shaky hand through my hair. ‘I’m good. Honest.’

    Crossing his arms over his chest, Nate braced his legs apart and studied me carefully. Finally drawing some kind of conclusion, he gave me a small nod. ‘Okay. Do you know how you want to start this thing?’

    ‘Well …’ I moved a tiny bit closer to him, finding some calm in his presence. ‘I was thinking we could work through the bases. We’ve already done first base and kind of second base …’

    Smiling at me, Nate scratched his jaw in thought. ‘That’s an American thing. You’ll need to talk me through it.’

    Say it out loud? Uh …

    Desperately trying not to look embarrassed – this was Nate, for God’s sake! – I took another step toward him. ‘First base is kissing. French-kissing. Second base is touching, and thir –’

    I pointed to his crotch.

    He was struggling not to laugh at me. I appreciated the effort. ‘Liv, we’re going to have sex. I think you need to get used to talking about it.’

    Stubbornness made me thrust my chin out. ‘Fine.’ You can do this. They’re just words. ‘Second base is touching my br**sts over or under clothes and … between the legs.’ Oh, my God, oh, my God. ‘Or me touching you.’

    Nate’s lids lowered and he dropped his arms to his sides. He took a step toward me so we were only a few inches apart. ‘Touching me where?’

    It’s just a word.

    The blush stained my cheeks as I licked my lips and uttered, ‘Your dick.’

    His eyes flashed fire and I noted his shallow breaths as he asked, ‘And third base?’

    ‘Oral,’ I answered instantly, squeezing my legs together at the thought of Nate’s head between my thighs. I’d never received or given o**l s*x. I was at once intrigued and nervous regarding those particular acts. According to literature and the movies, I was in for a treat.

    ‘And I can guess what a home run is.’ He cocked his head, biting his bottom lip as he considered the information. ‘Hmm, it’s a plan. But I think the most important thing right now for you is to lose what you’re wearing.’

    I felt the tremors start in my fingers at the thought of standing stark naked in front of Nate. ‘Now?’ I squeaked.

    He gave me a no-nonsense look. ‘You’re going to have to stand in front of this guy naked. How are you going to be able to do that if you can’t do it with me?’

    ‘Completely naked?’

    After a moment of silence, Nate offered me a patient and kind look. ‘Okay, we’ll take it step by step. Strip to your underwear.’

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