The feel of her skin under my fingers silences my protests. I trace the curve of her waist, marveling at the softness there, the way she shivers at my touch. I move my hand higher, tracing the underside of her breast through her bra, and her breath catches.
“You’re overthinking,” she whispers against my ear, her good hand working at the remaining buttons of my shirt. “I can practically hear your brain whirring.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, helping her with my buttons.
Lila laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my neck where her lips are now pressed. “Stop apologizing and take your shirt off, Professor.”
I comply, shrugging out of my button-down with more eagerness than grace. Her eyes darken as she takes me in, and I feel unexpectedly self-conscious under her gaze.
“I don’t spend much time in the gym,” I find myself explaining, though she hasn’t said anything.
“Thank god,” Lila breathes, her fingers tracing the lean lines of my chest. “I hate gym bros.”
Her touch leaves trails of fire on my skin. I lean forward, capturing her lips again as my hand slides higher under her shirt, cupping her breast fully now. She arches into my touch, making a small sound of approval that sends heat straight to my groin.
“Your turn,” I murmur against her mouth. “Sling first.”
Her gaze darts to her sling, and she nods. “I’ll need your help with it.”
I move carefully, finding the strap that secures it around her neck and gently lifting it over her head. As I remove the sling, I’m hyperaware of her injured shoulder, making sure not to jostle it.
“You’re being so careful with me,” she murmurs, watching my face with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Lila’s expression softens. “I know. That’s why I trust you.”
The statement hits me with unexpected force. Trust. From Lila Brooks, the woman who trusts storms more than people. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of that responsibility.
“Now, the shirt’s going to be tricky.”
I help her pull it over her head, moving slowly to avoid any unnecessary strain on her shoulder. When the fabric finally clears, revealing a simple black bra against her freckled skin, I forget how to breathe.
“Like what you see, Professor?” she teases, but I catch the hint of vulnerability beneath her bravado.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, meaning it more than any scientific conclusion I’ve ever reached.
Her cheeks flush, and for once, she doesn’t deflect with humor. “Your turn to lose the pants.”
I stand, fingers fumbling with my belt. I’m not normally this uncoordinated, but Lila’s eyes on me make my hands clumsy and uncertain. The leather strap finally comes free, and I work on the button and zipper next, hyperaware of her watching my every move.
“You’re taking too long,” she says, reaching forward with her good hand to help. Her fingers brush against mine, then lower,grazing me through my underwear. I inhale sharply, my hips jerking forward involuntarily.
“Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed by my reaction.
Lila grins up at me. “Don’t apologize. I like knowing I affect you.”
She helps push my pants down my hips, and I kick them off, standing before her in just my boxers. The thin cotton does nothing to hide my obvious arousal.
“Well, hello there, Professor,” she purrs, her gaze dropping to the bulge in my underwear. “Looks like someone’s ready for a hands-on experiment.”
I can’t help but laugh, even as desire pools hot and heavy in my stomach. “Did you really just make a science pun during foreplay?”
“Would you expect anything less?” She hooks her finger into the waistband of my boxers, tugging me closer. “Now, are you going to help me with these jeans, or are we going to stand here discussing my comedic timing?”
I lean down to kiss her, sliding my hands to her hips, feeling the rough denim beneath my fingers. The button yields easily, but the zipper requires more concentration, especially with Lila’s good hand now running up and down my chest, making coherent thought nearly impossible.
“Need help?” she teases, her lips quirking into that half-smile that’s been driving me crazy since we met.
