Page 11 of Bean

“No harm done. So if you’re used to working with ammunition, you must be good with details.”

I used to be, but I left that part out. “Yeah, I am. Very meticulous.”

“Then you’ll have no issues, I promise. Sex isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Just do what would feel good to you, pay attention to signals and body language, and you’ll be fine.”

“Sorry to be?—”

“Don’t be. Don’t apologize. It’s all good.” He pointed at the front door. “We’re here.”

My nerves quadrupled as I followed him inside, taking off my shoes when he did. What was I supposed to do now? Kiss him? Wait, was kissing even part of a hookup? I was still catching up on watching all the movies I had missed in my upbringing, butwe had watchedPretty Womanthe other day, and she’d been clear kissing was off-limits.

Then again, she’d been a hooker. Right? I was a little fuzzy on the details. Oh well, I’d have to let him take the initiative and follow his lead.

“Can I get you another drink?”

“Erm, no. Thank you. I’m good.”

He stepped closer, his blue eyes soft. “Nervous?”

“What gave it away?”

He curled his hand around my neck and gently drew me in. I willingly took the hint. “So maybe we jump right into it?”

“Jumping sounds good.”

“Kissing sounds better,” he said, and then his lips were on mine and my whole world shifted. His lips were firm, a little chapped. Very different from Natasha’s. As much as I didn’t want to compare, it was inevitable. Her lips had been full and soft. Also very wet. For some reason, her kisses had always been sloppy—not something I’d found particularly sexy.

But I loved this. His tongue slipped into my mouth and found mine, and after a second of remembering how to do it, I responded. My belly tingled and a little shiver ran down my spine. His hands slowly slid south, caressing my back, then gently cupping my butt.

He was an inch or so shorter than me, so the logistics were easy. No struggle with a height difference and everything was well within reach. I followed his example and let my hands rest on his butt.

Ass. It was called an ass.

If I wanted to have sex, the least I could do was get over myself and use the appropriate anatomical terms.

He had a really nice b—ass. Nice and round, with a little jiggle to it, but firm underneath when I squeezed.

A little tug on my shirt made me lose my line of thought, and I froze. My brain came to a screeching halt and a wave of dizziness overcame me.

Where was I? What was I doing?

It only took a second or two to reorient myself, like my brain needed a quick reboot.

“Bean?” he asked softly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You seemed to go all tense.”

Of course I had to pick a guy who was way too observant. “I promise.”

“Okay. Just wondered if you maybe wanted to take off your shirt.”

Oh, of course. That was why he’d tugged it. He had to think I was completely clueless. But when I peeked at him from underneath my lashes, he was smiling at me and not in a negative way. More like a soft smile, almost an indulgent one. Definitely one that had patience and kindness. He had a nice smile, and I liked how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

Shirt. I whipped my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.

He chuckled. “Better.” He made a low hum. “You’re in fine shape. Very attractive.”