Taming His Tutor(5)

By: Natalie Anderson

Not even an incoming asteroid storm could distract him from her now. Yeah, those too few lessons in the freaking school library had forged a fascination with her that apparently hadn’t died.

And she was listening to a lecture about male erogenous zones? His whole frigging body was an erogenous zone and had been since he’d seen her saunter across the road right in front of that oncoming car, wearing a dress that showed off those lusher-than-lush curves.

Animal magnetism had struck at its most basic: see; want; sex.

Now the rush of red in her cheeks deepened and she looked away. He was hot under the collar too. Sex tips at ten past nine in the morning?

His former math tutor had gone all temptress on him and he couldn’t be more shocked than if a pig were to fly right by. How often did teenage fantasies become walking realities?

She was within reach, yet just out of it.

Almost temptress, she’d reverted to shy again. She couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore.

He’d never had to chase a woman before; they usually offered. So for a moment he just stared at her, too stunned by seeing her to figure out how best to make his next move.

But he was so fucking making a move.

“I better get to work. I’m late,” she said.

Her voice had gone husky. Embarrassed. A random flare of protectiveness surged in his chest and he bit back his smile. Some things didn’t change all that much. She was still shy, for all the supposed pole dancing. And was she still the same studious Abigail—getting all her info from books.

Was that what this was about? She wanted to learn more about men? Hell, he couldn’t help her in any kinda relationship department, but he was more than qualified to help her with the hands-on, practical component if she wanted.

She turned away.

“No.” He reached for her wrist.

He felt her smooth warmth beneath his broad palm and had to resist the urge to clamp tighter and pull her close against him again. Her pulse beat beneath his fingers—quicker with every passing second. Her blush deepened. He waited, regulating his own breathing, tempering his own too-sharp arousal. Gently does it.

Finally she sent him a swift glance.

Pure willingness lurked in her eyes.

Adrenaline burned.

He restrained the urge to haul her to him and claim everything like some warlord from the Dark Ages.

He smiled, trying to ease the predatory hunger that was likely plastered on his face. What was with all the “must dominate” urges? He was Mr. Casual, not Mr. Must-Capture-and-Hold-Close-at-All-Costs.

“I’ll walk you to work.” That would give him more time to think of a plan.

Her lashes lowered. He felt her trying to draw away.


“Not today. Thanks.” Her murmur degenerated to a hoarse whisper.

Before he could think, she flicked her wrist free of his grip, turned, and all but ran away.

Joe hesitated, undecided. Then sighed and stayed still. He’d let her go. Despite the growing distance between them, he could see the red flush staining the back of her neck and the tips of her ears as she continued on down the sidewalk. She really was mortified.

He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned ruefully as he watched her. He hadn’t had a woman run from him ever—generally they ran to him. So maybe it was better to let her leave now and recover.

But this wasn’t over. Not when he’d seen that heat in her eyes.

He’d have to track her down. She’d be online, or he could call one of the guys from school or—

Eyes narrowing, he watched her walk in the direction he too had to go.

He’d keep an eye on her for as long as he could and give her some space. And if she worked here in the SoMa area of San Francisco, then maybe she lived nearby too. He’d find her.

As he followed her fragrant trail, he saw the heads turning in the passing cars and inwardly chuckled. Even without the jaywalking, she was going to cause an accident.

She wasn’t hiding her body under wool now. Did she want to put her erogenous zones to their proper use? He could help her with that.

Abigail Hayes had thrown him the ball.

And Joe Fuller always had liked a game of one-on-one.

Chapter Three

“Start with yourself. Pick your favorite body part and emphasize it.”

Why had she fast-forwarded the audio book to the sex chapter? Oh yeah, because she was desperate to learn how to perform porn-worthy sex.

And now? Her pride was more than shredded, it was pulped. To be caught out by Joe Fuller listening to a “how to screw a guy” audiobook? It couldn’t get worse. And like she could even try to explain it had been—mostly—for work? Not after that stupid sexy talk she’d tried.

Pole dancing? What had she been thinking?

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