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Could we make it work? Were there guidelines in his job description that prohibited him from sleeping with a student? Could he lose his job just for being with me?
Panic set in with that thought. As much as I wanted him, I couldn't let him get fired just because I couldn’t keep my freaking hands to myself. But on the flip side, I couldn’t imagine not having him in my life. It seemed a cold and dismal existence without his smile, his dimple, and that incredible intelligence behind a sharp, but kind intellect.
Needing answers, I followed him to the shower and let myself in. He didn’t seem surprised.
“We can’t do this, Mia,” was the first thing he said.
“We already did,” I said, as if to remind him that we hadn’t had sex once, but twice in a twenty-four hour period.
“But we shouldn’t have,” he countered.
“Why not?” I barked back.
“I could lose my fucking job and reputation, for one,” he bit back. “Besides the glaring fact that you’re still a fucking kid and I’m old enough to be your fucking dad!”
“Really? After all this, you’re having insecurities about your age?” I raised my eyebrow at him.
He didn’t look amused.
“So, we’ll keep it quiet. It doesn’t have to affect your job,” I promised. “Nobody needs to know.”
“Sure, for a week or a month, or however long it takes for you to get your kicks then move on to someone your own age?”
I was affronted at the accusation.
“What does that mean?” I demanded.
“It means that this isn’t real,” he breathed, sighing all of the fight out of him.
“It’s real for me,” I volleyed back. “This is all real for me.”
“Damn it, Mia,” he said, turning away from me to grab the bar soap.
I watched him suds up, then caught it as he shoved the slippery thing into my hands to do the same.
I didn’t do anything but stand there, waiting for some semblance of sense to finally blurt out of his mouth, but it seemed anger had built up instead, and when he turned back to me, his hair plastered to his forehead and water glimmering on his chest he was scowling.
“What? I was literally inside you five minutes ago, but you can’t share a bar of soap?”
Tossing the bar, I realized that there was no amount of sense that was going to make a comment like that worth the wait.
“Mia!” he called, but I was already out of the shower and scrubbing down with yesterday’s towel.
The water shut off, but by the time he was stumbling out of the shower, I was heading to the bedroom for my clothes.
My panties were across the room, so I dipped to grab those since I’d disposed of them earlier, then I found my bra, shirt, and pants on top of his dresser on the far wall.
I was all dressed when he joined me, digging through his dresser for a pair of sweats that he struggled to get on over his damp, naked body.
“What the fuck, Mia!” he called, storming after me while I hurried to the front door.
The man caught up to me, slipping on his glasses just as I got the door open, but he pulled me back in and slammed the door closed before pressing me into it, caging me in his arms as his fiery amber eyes met mine.
“You don’t get to insult me then expect me to listen when you call my name,” I spit, shoving against his shoulders.
“I don’t know what I’m fucking doing,” he growled back at me, his hair still wet and dripping over his face and shoulders. “I don’t fucking know, ok?”
“It’s ok to fumble a little to figure out what you’re doing, but it’s not ok to hurt me and to shove me against a door, looking like you want to eat me alive.”
