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“Of course, Ms. Flores.” Sam played along even though the corridor was empty except for them. “I have some time between classes. I’m happy to accommodate you.” She fished the key out of her trouser pocket and opened the door.
The second they were in the privacy of her office, Natalia shoved her against the locked door and kissed her hard enough to bruise. It wasn’t hard enough.
Sam met her passion equally, pouring weeks of pent-up longing into the kiss. It was feral, desperate, like trying to meld their bodies into one.
Natalia’s hands tangled almost painfully in her hair as their mouths crashed together. Sam’s knees nearly buckled from the dizzying intensity.
It was incendiary, scorching, threatening to combust them both into flames. Sam could already feel the swell of Natalia’s breasts pressing into hers, nipples hard even through the layers of clothes separating them.
“To what do I owe this surprise?” Sam whispered before kissing a line down Natalia’s neck.
“The contracts are signed. You got your final cut,” Natalia said, hands running down Sam’s back.
“I know.” Sam leaned in again and captured her lips. “I get email.”
“Shut up.” Natalia kissed her hard, giving Sam no choice but to comply with her demand.
When they broke for air again, chests heaving, Sam rasped, “I missed you so fucking much,” before diving back in, addicted to Natalia’s lips and the sounds of her rumbling moans.
Natalia just hummed in response, already working open the buttons of Sam’s silk shirt, clearly on a mission that required no words. Sam was distantly aware that having sex in her office was probably a terrible idea, but she only stopped Natalia when the sound of conversation wafted down the hall and she remembered that she liked her job.
“I brought you something,” Sam whispered against her lips, her hand over Natalia’s, stopping her before she slipped into her sports bra.
Looking at her through half-lidded eyes, Natalia didn’t need to speak to tell Sam that all she wanted was her. A realization as thrilling as any verbal confirmation that she felt the same emotions coursing through Sam’s body.
“Well, are you going to give it to me?” Natalia’s voice was sinfully husky, making it hard for Sam to convince herself that it wasn’t worth an embarrassing scandal to push Natalia against her desk and ravage her. There were a lot of things she wanted to give her, least of which was the present in her bag.
She kissed her again, breathing her in as if she could keep her this close forever. It took effort to let her go, but she tore herself away on trembling legs and went to the luggage she hadn’t had time to drop off at home.
Sam retrieved a wrapped canvas from her leather satchel. She’d picked it up at a trendy art gallery in London, unable to resist buying it for Natalia.
Unwrapping the brown paper, Natalia revealed a striking abstract piece in bold shades of crimson and black. It depicted two female forms intertwined in an intimate embrace, though the shapes were obscured just enough to convey a sense of sensual mystery.
“I found this little gallery in East London showcasing young LGBTQ+ artists,” Sam explained as Natalia’s gaze lingered on the sultry artwork. “Something about the raw passion in the brush strokes made me think of you.” She met Natalia’s dark eyes, wishing she could decipher the look in their smokey topaz depths. “You were on my mind constantly while I was gone.”
“And here I thought you were busy at work, Professor.” Natalia ran her nails over the back of Sam’s neck and kissed her. Kissed her with thank you and I love the art and I missed you so much.
“Did you miss me?” Sam couldn’t resist asking, lips brushing against Natalia’s as she pulled her closer.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Natalia replied, lies dripping off of every syllable.
“What you don’t say with your mouth, Ms. Flores, you say with everything else,” Sam whispered before kissing her again, exhilarated by Natalia’s reaction. Loving that Natalia always kept her guessing, chasing, wanting.
When they finally managed to stop kissing long enough to speak, Natalia said, “I made us a reservation for tonight at Avante.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She knew Avante was virtually impossible to get into. The waiting list for the Brickell rooftop restaurant was months long. Chef Leonie was Miami’s most famous native celebrity chef after a wildly popular appearance in the competition show, ChefMatch.
“How on earth did you get a table there?” Sam asked in astonishment, knowing the wait was eternal after a few attempts to get in herself.
The corner of Natalia’s mouth quirked up slightly. “I have my ways,” she replied evasively. Though her tone was casual, Sam sensed the care and effort behind Natalia securing them a coveted spot.
As tempting as it was, Sam sighed regretfully, “I’ve been dying to go there, but my mom is making dinner tonight.” She winced. “Being gone for two weeks, you’d think I was on the moon for a year. Like we didn’t talk twice a day every day while I was away.”
Natalia’s expression remained impassive, but Sam thought she detected a flash of disappointment in her dark eyes. “Of course, that makes sense,” she said smoothly.
Sam appreciated how uncharacteristic it was for the usually reserved Natalia to put herself out there with the invitation. Impulsively, she suggested, “Why don’t you come with me? My parents would love to see you again. For some reason, they think you’re absolutely delightful.” She grinned.
Natalia raised one perfect brow. “They’re going to think I’m your girlfriend…” she said, a trace of disguised humor in her voice.
