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She knew my age, she knew about my kids, my divorce, and all the dirty, nasty shit that came with that, and she wanted me anyway. Wanted this, at least. I wasn’t sure if the thing between us was a one and done, or if she wanted something else, or if she’d even fucking thought about the consequences.
Well, maybe she didn’t even know the consequences. But I fucking did. I was flirting with a quick sack if the Dean found out. Sleeping with a student wasn’t just looked down upon, it was grounds for an immediate dismissal at this school. I’d be a laughing stock in the academic world, and my chances of getting a job back at UCLA or Yale afterwards were dramatically diminished. I would have to look at the school bylaws to see what, or even if there would be disciplinary actions against the student in such a situation, but the thought of destroying her chance at finishing her degree made my chest tighten with new shame.
That was assuming she wanted a relationship, though. Maybe she just needed a really good fuck to get the next scene for her book finished. Maybe this time, I was her muse.
I had a lot of questions, but I knew none of them would be answered today.
No, I was going to give Mia the night to enjoy the post orgasmic glow of her first fuck and we’d have to leave the messy stuff for morning.
Oh shit, was she going to stay the night? I wanted her to, but she had a roommate and someone who would miss her if she didn’t go home. The sun sinking behind the trees told me it was getting to be dinner time, so I had to wake her.
“Mia,” I murmured, pressing kisses up and down her throat until she smiled and stretched languidly in my arms.
As her movement shifted the water, I realized how cool it’d gotten as I sat there immersed in my own brain.
“Hi,” she said finally, her eyes blinking sleepily open at me.
She looked so fucking happy to see me, it made my heart squeeze a little bit. I couldn’t remember the last time someone was that happy to look at my face.
“It’s getting late,” I told her, lowering my voice so it didn’t jar her. “Will your roommate be missing you?”
She hummed, then jerked upright.
“Oh, crap,” she groaned, standing up immediately, water jumping and sloughing off her skin in a glistening sheet.
It left me eye-to-ass with her, and I nodded, appreciating the firm curve of each cheek for a long moment. I didn’t have long to admire, however. Mia stepped out of the tub, looking around for a towel as she dripped all over my tile floors.
“The cabinet, over there,” I told her, pointing.
She smiled gratefully at me, then hurried over to get one. She didn’t just get one though, she got two and handed me the second as I stepped out of the tub.
“Thanks,” I said, freshly amazed at the way she was able to think outside of herself.
She wrapped the towel around her body, tucking in a tale of it between her breasts as she quickly headed toward my bedroom again.
“I left all my stuff in the garden,” she said over her shoulder while she nimbly plucked up all her clothes and started pulling them on.
I did the same, but chucked the old stuff into my hamper before grabbing a new pair of underwear and some gray sweats with CAMBRIDGE down the sides. I’d had them since my years in England, and they showed their wear, but I couldn’t get myself to part with them.
“Clea said she’s probably staying with her boyfriend tonight,” Mia mumbled as she reached around, trying to hook her bra back on.
I stepped up behind her and took the ends from her, which surprised her. She froze as I met the ends and hooked it, then pressed a kiss on the back of her neck.
Mia turned around, in her jeans and bra, and I watched her eyes drag back over me. It was kind of fun to feel like a hunk of meat again. Women still looked at me like that occasionally, but usually for different reasons, with money being at the top of the list.
This girl? She just liked what she saw, and it didn’t go deeper than that. I hadn’t felt like that since…college.
“You’re so hot,” she blurted, dragging her eyes up to mine. “It’s not fair.”
I chuckled at her, then lifted my hand to brush a hair off her cheek. God, I just couldn’t stop touching her.
“Not as hot as you,” I countered, which made her blush all over again. “How are you feeling? Do you hurt?”
She shook her head, the sharp, wet ends of her hair flailing about with the movement. “I feel amazing. You’re really, kind of disturbingly good at giving a girl orgasms.”
No, I wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to disagree. I wasn’t any better than any other guy, her body just bloomed for me, and it made my touch seem magical, but it was just our chemistry that made each touch zing.
“Crap,” she mumbled again, turning away from me to grab her shirt. “Stop it, Owen.”
