The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag, #3)

by Sara Ney

“Wanna come inside for a minute?” Uh, do basic white girls drink pumpkin spice lattes? Yes I want to go inside! I school my expression so I don’t come off as over-enthused or desperate. That might freak him out. “Sure.”

“Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” “I don’t know what that means,” I say in a breathy whisper. “What are you hopin’ it means?” Our mouths are a sigh apart, the air between us tickling my lips. His powerful chest brushes my breasts and this time, he doesn’t move away. “Say it again.” “Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” His mouth is hot, near my ear, warm breath sending a spark up my middle, dampening my underwear. “Dis oui, s’il te plait.” Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser; dear Lord, I hope it means he wants to kiss me. I hope it means— Rhett’s bedroom door busts open, hitting the wall behind it, just as Rhett’s soft lips lightly sweep mine, tentative.

“Je vais t’embrasser.” His mouth is moving, speaking words I don’t understand, inching closer. I nod. “Okay.” Those rough, callused hands cup my jaw, thumbs stroking my smooth skin. “Je suis content que tu sois ici, Laurel.” His lips brush the skin beneath my ear. “I’m really glad you’re here.” He’s so gentle. So tender. My eyes slide closed and I bite my lip, bite back a moan. “Putain, tu es jolie,” he murmurs into my ear. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” “Merci.”

My body is not my own. My soul? His.