Free Teach Me Like That (LMLT Book 2) by Marie James Page B

of emotion.
    “Damn, Lexi. I’m so sorry,” he begins.
    I hold my hand up to stop him from speaking. “I’ve been without parents a long time.”
    “Sorry,” he says again.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him reach his hand across looking for mine to offer comfort, but I keep my hands wrapped around one another in my lap. He eventually pulls his hand back.
    “Me too,” I whisper.
    The last thing I want to think about, ever, is the family I’ve lost and the one I never really had.
    The rest of the drive is much like the first half, silent.
    I climb out of his truck quickly when he pulls up in front of my house. He’s crunching up the gravel driveway behind me, so I pause on the front porch. There’s no way I’ll be able to resist him if he manages to get me inside the house. I hold my keys in my hand, but don’t move to insert them into the lock.
    “Lexi,” he says, his breath rushing over my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
    I shake my head, trying to let him know it wasn’t him.
    He turns me to face him, and I watch as his eyes dart back and forth between mine.
    “You didn’t. Promise,” I tell him.
    I know what he’s planning to do when his tongue reaches out and wets his lips. Hell, I knew what was going to happen the second I stepped out of the truck, and he followed.
    So what do I do? I do what any warm-blooded woman would do standing in front of Kegan Cole as he leans in closer to their mouth; I close my eyes and wait for his lips to meet mine. I wait for the forcefulness that I’ve pictured more than once to strike my mouth, but it never comes.
    First, I feel his warm, comforting hand cup my cheek. Next, his warm breath is ghosting across my lips, sending waves of goosebumps and a foreign tingle down my spine. Then I feel his firm, yet incredibly soft, lips brush against mine.
    Soft and gentle. That is not Kegan Cole. He’s abrasive and forward on his best day. This is pity. This is him feeling sorry that I didn’t have parents, and he had two great ones. The last thing I need from Kegan Cole is fucking pity.
    I push at his shoulders, breaking his delicate contact with my lips.
    I try to step back, but he has one hand on my lower back and one gripping my ass. I was so engrossed with how his mouth was going to feel on mine, I was oblivious to where his hands were roaming. Now that they are there, I feel the same burn in his touch that I felt at the movie theater when his fingers brushed the skin on my back.
    “Don’t,” I say with less force than I was aiming for. I want to be angry. I want him to know I’m mad, pissed that he’s feeling sorry for me. I hate when people treat me like that. “I don’t need your pity.”
    His hooded eyes open wider. “Pity? Lexi, there is nothing pitiful about you.”
    He flexes his arms and crushes me against his body. His mouth hits mine once again, but this time, he kisses me like I’d expect him to.
    Giving me no time to stand my ground, his tongue is inside my mouth a second later.
    Jesus, what a glorious muscle.
    The same hands that were used to push him away are now clutching at him, trying to draw him closer. Heavy breathing and my own whimpers are the only sounds surrounding us as I feel his fingers flex and dig deeper into my ass.
    I’m no angel by any stretch of the imagination; my college days were pretty crazy, but I’ve never been kissed like this. I was going about it all wrong, picking men the same age as me. There has to be at least a five-year age difference between us. Even though many wouldn’t consider a thirty-year-old man an actual ‘older man,’ especially compared to me at twenty-five, but I’ll be damned if that age gap doesn’t make up for the difference.
    There isn’t any fumbling and bumbling. I’m not being pawed at and groped. The only other man who’s had skilled, sure arms around me was Hunter. The thought sobers me immediately.
    I push at his chest until he breaks free from my mouth.
    “We