Page 62 of Malaise

“We’ll start out light in the rewards.” He pushes up so that he straddles my hips, and pulls his T-shirt off. “Don’t want you getting sidetracked after the first few questions.”

“Next,” I ask impatiently.

“Conjunction.”

“A word that connects other words, phrases, or clauses.”

“Such as?” He pops the button on his jeans, teasing the zip down as I answer.

“And, but, when, or….” Sweet, baby Jesus.

“Good girl.” His damn hand is shoved inside his boxers, and given the way the material moves over his fist, I know what he’s holding on to.

“You’re not taking this slow, are you?” I tease, eyes suggestively on his crotch.

He chuckles. “Nope. Not when we’ve only got about half an hour left before we need to hit the road.”

“Next?” I squeak.

He glances to the book, hand still working on the business end of things. “Here’s a good one: gerund.”

Shit. I should know this. The damn word always sticks out because it sounds so funny. Something to do with a verb….

“It’s okay to admit if you don’t know,” he teases, in more ways than with what he just said. “Just let me know, and I can go chill out in the armchair while you study.”

“No, I’ve got this.”

His lips quirk up on one side in silent approval. I wrack my brain for the answer, frustrated because I know I at least have half of it: it has something to do with verbs.

“Ugh.”

“Come on, Meg. You can do it.” He places both hands beside my head and leans in close; our noses almost touch. “Gerund.” Whoa. The way he drags the word out makes English sound so damn sexy.

“Why weren’t you my tutor in school?” I ask.

“Because you would have got nothing done.”

His lips brush over mine and I close my eyes on instinct. “What was it I was supposed to be defining again?”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my chest. “A gerund.”

“Right.” Fuck the gerund. “I’m sure it won’t matter if I get one answer wrong.”

“That’s not the attitude, babe.” He runs his nose up the side of my face and leaves a gentle kiss on my temple.

“You’re too much of a distraction,” I complain half-heartedly.

“And you’re too tempting.”

His mouth closes over mine, and as he teases my lips apart with his tongue all thoughts of schooling and final exams are lost.

I arch my back into his touch as he eases the hem of my T-shirt higher, his hand splayed over the taut skin on my stomach. “Carver….”

“You say one more thing about school, exams, or gerunds,” he warns.

“No.” I roll my head and look at the small coffee table beside the armchair. “Your phone’s ringing.”

“Ignore it.”