“You do. You’re trying to impress me.”
Okay, that did it. I faced him and leaned with one arm on the end of the club. “I am not trying to impress you.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. It was borderline smug and I wanted to wipe it off his face. “Yes you are. You don’t want to look weaker than you seem. You want to look like you’ve got everything figured out, everything under control, even your swing.”
“You don’t know me,” I told him with a surprising amount of bitterness. I turned back to the club and the ball and tried to adjust my grip. It all felt wrong. My fingers were stiff. My face was flaring up with heat. I was about to make a ridiculous swing that would have the club go flying across the range.
Then I felt his presence behind me and his arms slowly, softly, slid down on top of mine. He pressed himself to my back, not too tight, and put his lips just behind my ear. My eyes widened and I nearly let go of the club.
“I know what I know of you,” he whispered into my ear, his breath hot. “And I want to know more.”
His husky voice sent subtle shockwaves through me. I was going from angry to turned on in seconds flat, and the friction from my jeans was not helping. He let his hands wrap around the tops of mine, his massive forearms nearly rendering mine invisible. He pressed closer to me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was as hard as stone. Fuck, he felt large. He felt good. His lips brushed the outer edge of my ear.
“Just like this,” he said softly. “Let everything go.” He started stroking the tops of my hands with his fingers, slowly, in circles. Back and forth, over every little hair. Somehow, the motion of it was extremely erotic. I couldn’t help but press my ass back into him, just an inch, and his breath hitched heavily in response. If he truly wanted me to let everything go, I’d flip him over and ride him right there on the range. Screw golf, I’d screw him instead.
“Now…” His voice trailed off and he gradually stepped back. My back felt cold without his body there. “Now swing.”
I swallowed hard and willed my legs to stop from shaking. I took in a deep breath, feeling a headiness that sank into my core, raised the club, and swung.
I hit the ball with a satisfying thwack and it sailed across the range. All right, so it didn’t go too far but it went far enough. It bounced merrily among the other balls that dotted the sea of green and came to a stop near the 70-yard line.
I looked behind me at Camden who was standing with his arms folded across his chest, grinning in approval. I did my damndest not to look at his crotch and suss out if he still had an erection. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said. He held out his hand for a high-five.
I returned it, wiggling my lips. “That’s quite the technique. Do you use that on all the girls?”
His teeth were so white against his perpetually tanned skin. “Only the ones worth the effort. With everyone else I just tell them to be the ball.”
He handed me another fresh beer and then guided me by my shoulders and moved me out of the way.
“All right, now it’s my turn to impress you,” he said, picking up his club.
I stood back and watched him with a smile. I didn’t think I could be more impressed than I already was.
***
My drive improved after that, er, hands-on lesson, but sadly he didn’t try his technique again. I could only hope he was saving it for later, but to be honest, that thought terrified me a little. The good news was that he seemed to be able to wet my panties with nothing more than erotic hand holding, the bad news was the whole act of ripping your clothes off and jumping each other involved…ripping your clothes off.
I’m sure the average female has some aversions about being seen naked by a guy they’re into—or anyone, really. Maybe they don’t like the cellulite on their ass (somehow there’s none on mine) or their stomach pooch or they think their torso is too long or maybe their nipples are too small. You name it, everyone’s got something. But my something was impossible to hide and it always prompted a story. Every time I had sex with a guy, I had to apologize for the way my leg looked. I had to let them know that I acknowledged my deformity, that I in no way thought I was perfect.