Chapter One
Sydney
I had nailed sex education. No pun intended. Because I’m an amazing student, always have been. The anatomy of sex isn’t hard. In and out. Not exactly rocket science, right?
Understanding logistics apparently doesn't mean you can have a positive sexual experience though, and my recently ex-boyfriend had made it super clear I failed to make the grade. Two years of giving it the old college try and he had told me I was terrible in bed. I think the word he had used was actually “sucked.” Sucked in bed. Ironic, huh? You’re supposed to suck in bed, at least according to porn, but Curtis had said I’d even done that wrong.
Is there a wrong way to suck a cock?
The answer is yes, and I had done it.
So now I needed hands-on sex education. Instructions on how to be a better lover, so I didn’t wind up with yet another boyfriend who cheated on me like Curtis had.
With a lesson plan in place, I knew I would be able to excel and make sexual leaps and bounds, because I was in my last semester of law school at Columbia, and I knew how to study.
Cramming all night? Oh, hell yeah.
I also love a great pun, if that wasn’t obvious already.
“Which of these players will be at the party?” I asked my cousin, Eloise, as I stared at the photo on my phone of her on Bourbon Street in New Orleans with five professional football players. Just hanging out with ballers, that was what my cousin did now.
It defied the rules of nerd logic, given Eloise liked to wear cat sweaters and speak Klingon. But her new boyfriend, Dak North, was absolutely crazy about her and they were throwing a spontaneous New Year’s Eve party in just a few hours at some swanky hotel with a view of Times Square.
“All of them,” she said. “Why?”
Because who better to ask for sexual advice than a man who probably had more sex in a week than I had in a year. In two years. In all the years of me having sex. “I’m going to get one of them to teach me how to have sex.”
Eloise, who had been holding up a dress in the mirror in her bedroom, while I was lounging on the bed, turned and gave me a look. “When you word it like that, it sounds really bizarre, Syd.”
“How was I supposed to word it?” I made the image bigger and studied my options. “They’re all single, right?” They were all huge. Muscles and broad shoulders and height that would have them towering over me. Big hands for grabbing… things. I mean, I don’t know what they would grab actually, but that was the point. They would show me.
One had a really nice, friendly smile. “How about this one?” I said, tapping the screen as I turned my phone toward Eloise.
“That’s Cash. He’s really nice. I don’t think he’s much of a hookup kind of guy. He’s more the guy who meets a girl at church and takes her home to mama.”
“Hmm.” Maybe she was right. The bad-boy type would be more up for a challenge like I was proposing. “This one?”
She glanced back over and shook her head. “No. Definitely not. That’s JJ. He is way too much of a playboy. You wouldn’t be able to keep up with his flirting and signals and subsequent quick dumping of you.”
Well, I wasn’t worried about being dumped. This wasn’t a relationship. But I couldn’t argue that my flirting skills were not exactly top-notch.
I bit my lip and moved on down the line in the photo. “Okay, this guy looks like he would make me laugh and feel comfortable. Plus, he has a great smile.”
“He’s not a bad option,” Eloise admitted, tossing the red dress she’d been holding onto the bed. “Miles is fun and super intelligent. He has a math degree.”
All of that should have bumped him to the number one spot, and he was really good looking, very reminiscent of Shemar Moore on Criminal Minds, but it almost seemed like he was too much of the perfect package. I didn’t want to accidentally fall for my sex tutor. That would be bad.
Nope. I needed kind of a jerk.
Like the guy standing next to Dak looking like he wanted to punch whoever was taking the photo. He looked surly and brooding and exactly like a man I would never enjoy spending time with. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Oleksander. Olek. The Ukraine Train. He’s a tight end.”
“I would say so, damn.” That body was a thing of muscular beauty even in jeans and a T-shirt.
“You don’t want to go there. He’s anti-women right now after a bad breakup. He’s grumpy and disdainful and sighs constantly.”
Perfect.
“The Ukraine Train, huh? Would you be mad if I said I have a tunnel for him?” I couldn’t help it. The joke was right there.
Eloise groaned. “Gross. No. Stay away from Oleksander.”
That made me laugh. “Easy for you to say since you have a big hunk of quarterback in your bed every night.”
“I know this is about your idiot ex, Curtis. His opinion was just that—his opinion. And justification for cheating on you. It’s okay to be upset about that. You don’t have to prove anything to yourself.”
I did, actually. Sure, Curtis had proved himself to be an epic prick, but that didn’t mean he was wrong. It didn’t justify his behavior, but if I did, in fact, suck in bed in the worst way, then I was doomed to repeat our failed relationship with every guy in the future.
“I just need some lessons, that’s all. I’m fine.” I might have repressed rage against Curtis, but that meant the Train and I would have a lot in common. We could take out our anger at our exes on each other and have hot, pounding sex. In theory. “Now will you pick a dress? You’ve tried on everything in your closet.”
“Exactly. I have nothing to wear. What did you bring to wear?”
I stood up and went over to the back of Eloise’s door and unzipped the garment bag. “The shortest dress I could buy and the highest heels.” It was what the salesperson had assured me was quintessential New Year’s Eve. Short, sparkly, three-quarter sleeves. I had suggested more cleavage but she had looked at my chest and determined it was more to my advantage to show a lot of leg, and possibly my vagina given its length.
“Wow. That is very short.”
“Exactly.” I was going to have to avoid sitting down, but otherwise I was going to rock the dress. I didn’t have many opportunities to dress up but that didn’t mean I wasn’t into the concept. Whereas Eloise gravitated toward retro granny chic and was pulled together on a daily basis, I either looked like a high school student who had just rolled out of bed, thrown on leggings, and gone to class, or a full-blown escort. There was no in-between.
Tonight was going to be the Sydney who screamed sex.
“How did Dak manage to get this hotel room on such short notice?” I asked Eloise, gawking in amazement at the luxurious suite laid out in front of us. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed the blinking neon lights of Times Square.
“I have no idea.”
It was obvious to me Eloise was nervous. This was her first party co-hosted with Dak. It was their public debut as a couple even if it was only a few friends.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I told her. “But it’s very cool. Look, you can actually see the ball.” I pointed out the window at the dizzying view of the street and the infamous ball. “I can hear the hum of the crowd.”