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Just like that, twenty-five minutes pass. My body and mind tire with the type of satiation that comes with the endorphins after exercise or fucking. Olivia must have left during my run. Once I wipe down the treadmill and grab a towel, I head to the locker room for a shower. When I turn the corner, I startle as I find Olivia in downward dog. She looks as graceful and tempting as ever as she stretches one leg behind her, elongating the opposite arm, in an impressive show of balance. My thoughts run filthier yet, extremely thankful that the shower is within my reach. Just as I think she hasn’t noticed me, she sets her leg and arm back on the mat and smiles at me through her legs. I can’t breathe, let alone form a response, as I walk away.
I don’t exhale my breath until I’m safely under the cool water, utterly alone. I expect the tepidness to deter my hard cock, but it doesn’t. My fists ball as I plead with my brain and body to cool down. There’s only one way through this, and it’s one I’m intimately acquainted with. I pump my cock lazily as I imagine Olivia two-doors over, finger fucking her sweet cunt to the thoughts of my torture. My breath hitches, my pace and pulse quickening, as I imagine her knuckles deep, orgasming all over her dainty little hand. I pretend she lets me walk right in, legs spread, and lets me watch her lose herself in ecstasy with my name on her lips. The thought of her soft, angelic voice pleading for me undoes me. My balls squeeze as my cum circles the drain.
What a waste. I press my forehead to the shower wall with shallow breaths, waiting for the shame to return like it always does.
Chapter Six
Tomas
ThefollowingMonday,Iknow Olivia and I are heading for a cataclysm, regardless of how many times I repeat the mantra “off limits, cannot pursue” in my head when I see Nathan Bryne randomly sitting next to Olivia. He has his signature leather jacket on and an arm strung possessively around Olivia. She looks uncomfortable, but she won't make eye contact with me to let me know what she's thinking. It’s a gloomy, unseasonably bitter day, even for New England. Storm clouds rage and threaten to drop the first snow of the season. The biting chill of my rage watching this situation unfold seems fitting.
It’s been distracting enough to keep my focus off of the little temptress. Another week had passed since I attempted to have a pep talk for myself, as much as her. We fell into a cautious dance both in class and in the faculty gym, despairingly trying not to catch our eyes on one another. Apparently, we both were going to frequent the faculty gym in unpredictable patterns. Pretty soon, we were going to have to create a schedule, like sharing custody over a kid.
“Hey DeLuca,” Nathan starts with a lewd grin on his face, his arm raised with wriggling fingers, like he wanted us all to know whatever was about to fly out of his mouth was ridiculously stupid. I ignore him.
“Hey DeLuca. Can you sign my permission slip to suck Liv’s T4 dermatome?” At least he didn’t disappoint. It’s as fucking stupid and brazen as I expected. I turn murderous while the mother fucker ogles Olivia’s breasts, proudly letting the crude joke roll off his tongue. Olivia and Mia look at each other in unison, rolling their eyes but saying nothing, as if the fucker didn’t just disrespect her in front of her peers. I’m no better than Nathan, though. I can’t help but think about sucking on those perfect little rosebud nipples under her bra, but not before punching that arrogant look off of his face.
“No need to be crude, Nathan.” While I’ve never met him prior to this class, I knew of Nathan Bryne and unfortunately, his reputation precedes him. Coming from a well-known family in the area since the nineteen-forties, it seems the whole family is scum. Between his family’s seedy political history, rumors of hidden offshore accounts rampant with embezzling, and now having to put up with his sordid responses directed at Olivia, I had fucking had it.
“Nobody’s being crude here, doc.” He wraps an arm around Olivia’s shoulders, pulling her taut against him as she sits frozen with rage gleaming in her eyes. I meet her gaze as she shrugs him off and blatantly raises her middle finger at him. Nathan flashes a wide smile, revealing dazzling white teeth. The way he was staring at her gives me a feeling of icy trepidation. The leering feels predatory, like he is categorizing this in his head as foreplay.
Once class ends, Olivia is lingering as usual. Mia leaves, but Nathan is also taking his time, apparently vying for Olivia’s time. “Miss Hamilton, may I have a word?” She schools her face into something as emotionless and blank as a professional poker player as she toys with her hands nervously. I openly glare at Nathan, who remains silent. I stop short of screaming at him to get the fuck out. He narrows his eyes in challenge before turning on his heel and leaving. I wait five beats to ensure he’s gone before I march to the door and softly shut it. Once I’m assured nobody is eavesdropping, I begin my plea.
“Tell your father or I will.” She chews on her bottom lip pensively, and it takes every ounce of restraint not to reach out and run my finger along the seam.
“Tell my father what, exactly?” she asks slowly.
“About the fucking dickhead next to you making distasteful comments about your perfect breasts while obviously checking you out.” She sighs and squeezes her eyes shut as if I’m giving her a painful migraine. Her head shoots up and her mouth opens to call me out on the nipples comment, but she resists.
“DeLuca, it’s not even halfway into the semester. I’m not trying to make enemies. Besides, I can handle myself. Also, you think my tits are perfect?” She stands across from me, bags flung over her shoulders and arms crossed defiantly, but a smirk on her lips.
“I know you can handle yourself, but I don’t think you will.” I stop and regard Olivia for a moment. From across the room, she’s stunning, but up close, she’s breathtaking. Her hair is straight today, cascading down her back and framing her heart-shaped face. Small brown freckles line her high cheekbones and form a map along her pale exposed shoulders and collarbones. A dainty gold collar necklace hugs her petite neck, taunting me as I imagine it’s my hand wrapped around her, holding her as she wraps her lips around me.
“You barely know anything about me.” Her statement doesn’t have a hint of malice. It’s just perfunctory. The piercing look she’s giving me makes my breath hitch. I momentarily lose myself in her curves, her emerald eyes, and her sweet voice. I should stop myself. I need to stop myself.
My resolve fails when a hair breaks loose from her right temple, and I can’t resist smoothing it back. I gingerly reach out, afraid that her and this moment are apparitions and that the second I’ll get to her flesh, she’ll disappear. I feel her silky skin underneath my touch and it’s so much worse than her being a ghost. My cock twitches at the sharp hiss of her breath, as if my touch is searing her. Both of us stay frozen, slaves to the charged current coursing through us, keeping us connected. I feel like a kettle, boiling and ready to spill, however, and wherever she wants me.
I can’t take it anymore, can’t resist her. The three weeks of tension fuels this exact moment. My mouth hovers above her ear, and I revel in the opportunity to breathe her in. Her hair smells floral, the scent of roses prominent. Goosebumps spread across her arms, and I groan in approval.
“I know enough, Miss Hamilton. I know that sarcastic mouth can hold its own. This is beyond that. The Bryne family is not someone you want to mess with, especially that fucking psychopath, Nathan.”
“How professional of you. Badmouthing your own student just because you feel a pang of jealousy for me.” Olivia’s tone is saccharine, but the reproof is clear. My jaw clicks at her astute observation. If only she knew about the last conversation I had with him. She registers the hungry, dark look in my eyes and her triumphant glee turns to quick reproach. She suddenly looks nervous as I invade her space, as if she knows this is the moment she can’t run away from, the moment where she has finally pushed me far enough.
I close the distance between us. She cautiously backs away until she has nowhere to run or hide from me. Her back is flush with the whiteboard. I have half the sense to stop and lock the door, but I can behave. I just want to scare her a bit. “In the three weeks that I’ve known you, you have done nothing but test my morals. Every goddamn class with that smart mouth of yours, making me want to do nothing but taste those pouty lips. I don’t like anyone who can just so freely have you when I’m thinking about you, and I especially don’t like Nathan fucking Bryne. Consider this a warning. Keep being a little tease and watch what happens, Miss Hamilton. I’m not sure how long I can keep up the facade.”
Instead of recoiling in fear, she dares me, only adding fuel to my fire. “Do it, DeLuca.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Do what, Miss Hamilton? I bet you can’t even say it.” She gapes at me, shy, as her chest rises and falls unevenly.
"Either way, Miss Hamilton, as tantalizing as you are right now, I can't. One fleeting moment could ruin everything. For you, especially." I rest my forehead against hers. She's practically panting, silently pleading with me.
“I could be the best kiss of your life.” She searches my eyes for reciprocity as she silently pleads for me to kiss her. My body arches forward, my hands planted on each side of the whiteboard behind her. Her lips part, giving me access. She's going to be so fucking sweet, the faint scent of peppermint on her lips. I can taste her before I even claim her mouth.
"We're playing with fire, Miss Hamilton, and it's highly probable that one of us, if not both of us, is going to get burned." Our mouths are hovering, daring the other to make the first move. With each passing heartbeat, each shared breath, logic is drifting further from my consciousness. Grabbing her hands, I pin them above her. She whimpers. Our lips touch just as there's an ill-timed knock on the door. We scurry apart, but with one look, it’s obvious from our heated, red faces that it wasn't just a regularly scheduled meeting about coursework. She frantically smooths her disheveled hair and tries to catch her breath.
I try to cool down as the pair of us are burning at inferno level. "Your paper and research sound very promising, Olivia. I would be happy to look at it prior to submission for peer-review." I attempt the most professional, even-keeled voice I can muster, despite the deafening sound of my pulse in my ears. Giving her a pleading look, I know she's probably two steps ahead of me, but I pray she can read my expression, anyway.
"Wonderful. Thank you, Professor DeLuca." She turns on her heel to leave, giving a curt nod to the man standing in the hallway.
