Talk Nerdy To Me (The Sterling Shore Series Book 13) Read online

  He exhales harshly, his grip loosening on my side, as his lips trail up my cheek in soft, feather-light kisses.

  When he reaches my ear, he murmurs, “I never stopped to think maybe you hadn’t even worked up to that.” He kisses a spot just under my ear. “First base is kissing, something you definitely feel acquainted with.”

  Cognitive functions start failing. I half expect alarm bells to start wailing through the house to warn me of low oxygen levels when he drags the collar of my T-shirt down, stretching it out as his lips press to the small valley between my breasts.

  That’s all he does before kissing his way back up my neck. “Second base is a little touching, maybe some heavy petting,” he tells me.

  Picturing the way Sean pets Bananas ices some of the haze, since I don’t want to be patted like a dog or cat.

  But then his hand slides down my hip, fingers skating across the top of my underwear, before he cups my vagina, giving me more of that incredible pressure.

  He bites down on my shoulder, his hand running over the underwear. “So fucking wet,” he murmurs so quietly I almost miss it.

  I have no idea what to do because I don’t want to mess anything up right now. So I just nod like I agree.

  “It’s the body’s natural reaction to arousal,” I state shakily, as his hand slides over, his fingertips now toying with the edges of the lace around my pubic bone.

  Really expecting those alarms to wail loudly any minute now, because I’m fairly certain I’m holding my breath.

  “Third base is oral,” he tells me, biting down on my earlobe, then gently soothing the burn by barely teasing me with a graze of his tongue.

  “Home is—”

  Someone loudly bangs on the door, and I jerk, which causes Base to react. And for some unnatural reason, I squeal. Loudly. Embarrassingly.

  Base gives me a comical look, staring down at me.

  “Britt!” Dane calls, sounding worried. “You okay?”

  “Oh shit,” Base hisses, even as he laughs under his breath.

  I have no clue why I panic, or why I don’t tell Dane to wait a minute, or why my heart beats far too fast, or why I attempt to fling myself out from under him, but I do know our legs get tangled, making it impossible to fling myself away, and my head bangs with his when I jerk upright.

  Pain explodes through the top of my head on impact, as my vision dims for a brief, cold-sweating second.

  “Damn it, I’m sorry,” Base says, cupping my cheeks as his eyes widen when I make a pained sound.

  How hard is his head that he doesn’t even act like it hurt?!

  “Britt!” Dane calls louder.

  “Are you okay?” Base asks seriously, hands still cupping my cheeks as I try to blink the bright spots away, though I swear he’s trying not to laugh.

  The door pad starts beeping, like Dane is using his code.

  Panic renewed for no logical reason, I dive off the couch, but our bodies are still tangled, so Base is forced to fly off the couch with me.

  Somehow he lands under me, and I land on him…with my knee slamming into his—

  “My balls,” he heaves on a groan, immediately cupping himself as he curls into the fetal position, with me still awkwardly on him, though my knee is now removed.

  Just as the door flies open, I realize my shirt is shoved above my hips, my underwear is halfway down, and the brief reflection of myself granted by the mirror next to the door makes me worry how this whole scene could be perceived.

  My hair is…everywhere. My lips are red and swollen, and there are a lot of red marks up and down my neck.

  Also, my eyes don’t look the greatest, and there’s a massive welt on my forehead.

  And Base is still on the ground, curled in agony, as Dane stares at the entire scene, his eyes widening as he turns an alarming shade of red.

  “Please tell me you’re constipated,” I say to my brother, hoping he’s not angry enough to change colors.

  Base starts to laugh, but it ends in a pained groan and a few uttered curses.

  “I’m not constipated!” Dane shouts.

  “Britt, explain why this place looks like a crime scene before he kills me,” Base says through those same pained sounds of strain as he rocks up to his knees.

  As he seems to dry heave, I quickly tell Dane, “We had just finished up with third base being oral and started on home when you—”

  “Really not fucking helping,” Base says, holding his hand up as Dane stalks toward us with what I can easily deduce as a murderous expression.

  “Verbal explanations about the bases!” Base shouts, causing Dane to barely halt.

  Hurriedly yanking my underwear back to where they should be, I stand quickly, realizing this is where I’m supposed to get in between them. Rain always warned me this day would come.

  I hold my hands up, stretching them out in front of me, even though he’s still about a foot from reach.

  Dane just gives me an incredulous look. “Why the hell is your forehead swelling up?”

  A Klingon forehead prosthetic joke rests just out of reach, since I’m never very good at delivering jokes.

  “You banged on my door and I panicked when you called my name. Following that in quick succession was a head-to-head collision, some tangled body parts, an awkward fall, and a tragic landing.”

  Dane just stares at me for a second, then his eyes dip to where part of my shirt is hanging inside my panties.

  “Why the hell aren’t you wearing any pants?” Dane snaps.

  “Fuck,” Base groans, still on his hands and knees and rocking as though he’s nauseous or dizzy.

  “Because Harley told me not to wear any if I wanted Base to—”

  “Please stop talking until I’m not at a debilitated disadvantage,” Base cuts in, causing me to swallow the rest of that sentence.

  Dane looks…

  “What’s that expression?” I ask Dane, waiting on him to answer me as his eyes rapidly flick from me to Base several times.

  “Horrified,” he bites out, turning and moving toward the door as he runs a hand through his hair and starts texting someone.

  “Are we done talking?” I ask, assuming the crisis is solved since he’s moved on to talking to someone else.

  “No. I’m just telling Dale why he needs to kill Harley this time,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “You always tell your daughter not to be a tattletale, and those three parenting books in your living room all say it’s good parenting to lead by example,” I reasonably point out.

  Base snorts out a laugh, then groans, then curses his balls as though they have ears.

  Dane just gives me another look. Possibly indignation.

  I turn around to see Base with his forehead resting on the backs of his hands as he takes even breaths. To him, I say, “They don’t really kill the women. From what I’ve been told, they mostly rant a little incoherently, the women mock their ranting, and that’s about all.”

  Base shakes his head, laughing and groaning and laughing again.

  “I don’t even know how to deal with this right now,” Dane growls, bringing my attention back to him. “I was just coming by to make sure the painters got the back side of the house better.”

  “They haven’t returned,” I tell him, relaxing now that the subject has changed.

  “That’s not currently the thing on my mind!” Dane tells me very angrily, stabbing a finger into the air for no real obvious reason.

  “Then why bring it up?” I ask, confused.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, as Base finally lumbers to his feet, not standing completely straight.

  “We can talk about this when it doesn’t feel like my balls are still trying to work their way north,” Base tells him. “And alone. You can say whatever then. Don’t do this with her in the room.”

  I look at Base and question his intelligence for the first time. Clearly I need to be in the room if my brother is turning angry colors. He hasn’t turned ang
ry colors very often, but when he did, those guys left in tears.

  Dane looks over at me, then back at Base, then curses again.

  Really, all the cursing is growing redundant since no one is explaining why they’re angrily saying crude words.

  Dane just turns and stalks out, then walks back in, eyes on me. “Please answer the next time I’m at the door. Just say you’re busy if you’re busy.”

  “I tried. My cognitive functions haven’t been functioning properly around him,” I tell him honestly, gesturing toward Base.

  His eyes seem to soften a little, but they turn back into a hard glare when he looks at Base again. Then he stalks back out without another word.

  Base hobbles over to the couch, groaning as he slowly lowers himself down. I go to grab a sack of frozen vegetables from the freezer. I’ve seen all the guys do this at some point.

  As I offer it to him, he takes it from my hand, lips twisting in the beginnings of a smile for no logical reason I can discern.

  “That definitely ended differently than I expected,” he mumbles as he closes his eyes and puts the peas on his lap.

  “That would have been statistically improbable to have foreseen,” I tell him, patting his leg in case he feels guilty for lacking that foresight.

  I sit down on the other end of the couch, and put my legs up as I cut on the movie we paused a really long time ago.

  “You swore to massage my legs more later, but you should probably wait until a night when your testicles aren’t swelling with fluid,” I tell him as I turn the movie up.

  He coughs out a laugh, not groaning this time, as his hand gently pats my foot. “Thanks.”

  “I try to be considerate,” I tell him, even as the TV starts to capture my attention.

  My brother’s presence quite literally destroyed any arousal or the potential of it for the night.

  When I feel the weight of Base’s gaze on me, I turn my head, finding him studying me with what I believe is a pensive set to his jaw.

  “What?” I prompt.

  “You never said what bases you’ve touched.”

  This time, I understand his meaning. “First and I think second. Though second was more rough groping than erotic petting. It wasn’t at all comfortable.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face, muttering something I don’t hear.

  “You never said what word you prefer to hear when a woman references her vagina,” I tell him.

  Another groan is all I get.

  Halfway through the movie, he says, “Hey, your calendar says something about you giving a lecture tomorrow.”

  He’s very invasive by normal standards when he reads my calendar. Fortunately, I don’t mind.

  “It always happens the first of every month for the past two months. This will be the third,” I tell him absently.

  Even the giant blue woman on screen has figured out how to tempt the opposite sex. At this point, I find movies to be mocking me, making it seem far easier than it is.

  “Will everyone be there? The Sterlings, I mean?” he asks.

  “No. Just a few girls take turns helping me with props and such. The guys say it’s not their thing.”

  He grunts something, then moves closer, putting his arm around the back of the couch, his side pressing slightly against mine.

  Arousal remains thoroughly destroyed for tonight with just my brother’s unexpected presence.

  I had no idea that could even happen.

  “Would it be cool if me and the guys came?” he asks.

  I snap my head to him, studying his eyes to see if I can tell if he’s serious or not.

  “Sure,” I answer, hoping he doesn’t burst out laughing and tell me I’m an idiot for assuming he’d really go to something like that.

  I’ve had at least three possible date candidates do that.

  They stopped being date candidates directly after.

  Instead, he grins at me, tugging a lock of my hair. “Then let me know what time.”

  Chapter 23

  BASE

  “Are we really the first ones here?” Taylor groans as I take a seat in the front row of the empty room.

  About ten chairs are in a row with a narrow table in front of it, and there are at least twelve rows of chairs and narrow tables in this semi-spacious convention room inside the clinic.

  “I wanted to make sure we got up front,” I tell them, smirking when Sticks flips me off and plops down beside me.

  “Fucking suck up,” Randy says, grinning as he goes to sit down beside Sticks.

  Taylor takes a seat by him, and I glance around, trying to catch clues as to what this speech is going to be—

  “So what’s this all about anyway?” Sticks asks me.

  “I asked her to come with us this weekend, and I thought it would be good to show some support of her interests. Hell, the Sterlings apparently told her they had better things to do, but worded it like it ‘wasn’t their thing.’”

  “And this is how you’re going to be better than a Sterling. You’re competing with family for no reason, you know?” Sticks asks me.

  “I’m not competing. I just think it’s shitty they constantly support everyone else in their circle, but can’t show up for something like this,” I point out. “Besides, I want her more comfortable around you dicks before we leave. This will help with that.”

  Sticks mutters something.

  “Don’t make me point out all the shit I’ve done for you assholes,” I tell them as about five or six people walk in, stacks and stacks of doughnut boxes being carried and deposited onto a table.

  Salem and Tria walk in, then pause when they see us. Salem blinks as she starts to grin, then goes over to start directing the doughnut people.

  Tria approaches us, a confused expression on her face. “You guys are here for Britt?” she muses.

  “Yeah. Though don’t tell us what she’s lecturing about,” Taylor says, his words dripping sarcasm. “Base likes to be surprised. But we’re leaning toward it being about breast cancer awareness, since this clinic was built by Sterlings and dedicated to Rain.”

  Tria’s grin spreads a little wider. “I’m happy to hear you like surprises. Rain actually does most of the breast cancer awareness speeches. She usually comes to help with Britt’s things, but today she had to fly to Denver.”

  The doughnuts start getting put onto plates, and weirdly it looks like they have Fruit Roll-ups as well that they’re assembling on the table.

  “We get free doughnuts?” Randy asks, no longer sounding as though he hates this.

  “Yes,” Tria tells him, her lips twitching. “But you can’t eat them until after the demonstration.”

  “Demonstration?” Taylor asks, sounding as confused as I feel as Tria gets called away.

  Salem goes to the back, messing with a projector, and loud chatter behind us has me turning around as waves and waves of…young girls start to walk in. Most range between ages thirteen and maybe sixteen, with a few a little older, not counting the mothers or grandmothers who are escorting the very young ones.

  “Base…” Sticks draws my name out, a hint of trepidation in his tone as more giggling little girls flood in, filling up the seats all around us.

  A lot of mothers cast us looks that make me want to go shower because I feel like I’ve done something terribly offensive just by being here.

  “What the hell kind of lecture is this?” Taylor hisses.

  “We need to get out of here. We’re legit getting pointed at,” Sticks mutters under his breath, turning back around and ducking his head as his neck flushes.

  “Hell no,” Randy says—fucking loudly. “Two words: Free. Doughnuts.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll tell Britt—”

  Before I can finish that, Britt is walking onto the small, raised platform in front of us, grinning at me like she can’t believe I’m actually here. But it’s the gratitude in her eyes that has my ass staying planted in my seat.

  “Fuck. We’re never going anywh
ere now,” Sticks whimpers, looking from me to her as I grin at her.

  Someone takes a seat beside me, and I look over to see an elderly woman’s face nearly directly in front of mine the second I turn my head.

  She gives me an incredulous look, snorts a sound, and faces Britt as she puts her arm around the seat of a young girl who is presumably her granddaughter.

  I rest my elbows on the table in front of us as the seats continue to fill up, and doughnuts start getting dispensed in a row, on a long, rectangular, clear, plastic plate.

  “Don’t eat them yet,” Taylor tells Randy, slapping the back of his head so that the doughnut piece he just tore off between his teeth flies out of his mouth.

  People start passing out pads of paper and ink pens next, putting them in front of all of us. I glance over the doughnut variety, wondering what it has to do with anything.

  There’s one with pink icing and sprinkles, one that has chocolate glaze, one that is plain glazed, and one that looks like blueberry.

  The projector turns on, listing Britt’s name and the clinic’s name like a header for the upcoming slideshow. Britt doesn’t bother quieting the room or introducing herself before she dives in.

  “We’re going to start with the basics,” she says, as an image pops up on screen with the lecture’s intent…

  Oh shit.

  THE MISUNDERSTANDING OF THE HYMEN, is written in all caps.

  Randy chokes on a piece of doughnut, at the same time Britt says, “It’s surprising to know how few women actually understand the hymen.”

  Sticks slinks down in his seat, eyes wide as his cheeks turn red.

  We’re in a roomful of girls who are young. And we’re listening about hymens with these young girls.

  We’re going to hell, and it’s all my fault.

  “There are four types of hymens, and determining which one you have could directly affect your first sexual experience.”

  We’re listening about first sexual experiences with really little girls. Oh, fuck me. We’re going to get arrested or some shit.