“I’ve got it,” I murmur, finally working the zipper down. “Lift your hips.”
She complies, and I carefully slide her jeans down her legs, revealing toned thighs scattered with freckles that match those across her shoulders. My breath catches at the sight of her simple black underwear, nothing fancy but somehow more erotic than any lingerie could be.
“You’re staring,” she points out.
“Can’t help it,” I admit, running my hands up her calves, over her knees, to her thighs. “You’re incredible.”
Lila rolls her eyes, but I catch the flush spreading across her chest. “You really need to work on your dirty talk, Professor.”
“I wasn’t aware there would be an oral examination,” I reply before I can stop myself.
Her eyebrows shoot up, and then she bursts into laughter—real, unguarded laughter that creases the corners of her face. “Did you just make an ‘oral examination’ joke? And here I thought I was the one with the bad jokes.”
“I’m a man of hidden talents,” I say, unable to stop my smile as I watch her laugh. When she catches her breath, she looks at me differently—a mix of desire and something else I can’t quite name.
“I’m starting to see that,” she replies, her laughter fading into something more heated. “Why don’t you show me what other talents you’re hiding?”
My mouth goes dry at her invitation. I move closer, settling between her legs, careful not to put weight on her injured side. She leans back on her good arm.
“I should warn you,” I murmur, trailing my fingers up her thigh, “It’s been...a while.”
“Theory without practice is just masturbation,” she quips, then immediately bursts into laughter at her own joke. “Sorry, that was terrible.”
I can’t help laughing too, even as my fingers trace the edge of her underwear. “That was the worst science joke I’ve ever heard.”
“You loved it,” she challenges, her breath hitching as my fingers dip beneath the elastic.
“I did,” I admit, leaning forward to press my lips against her neck. “Almost as much as I love the way you react when I touch you here.”
I slide my fingers against her, finding her already wet, and she gasps, her head falling back, exposing the long line of her throat. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, wanting—sends a surge of heat through me that’s almost overwhelming.
“Fuck,” she breathes, her hips rising to meet my touch. “That feels?—”
“Good?” I suggest circling my fingers against her most sensitive spot.
“Don’t get cocky,” she manages, but her voice breaks on a moan as I increase the pressure slightly.
I can’t stop watching her reactions—the way her lips part, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the flutter of her eyelashes. My own arousal is almost painful now, straining against my boxers, but I’m determined to focus on her first.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur, slowing my movements until she whimpers in protest.
“More,” she demands, her good hand reaching for me. “And less talking.”
I laugh softly. “I thought you wanted me to use my voice.”
“Not for conversation,” she groans, her fingers tangling in my hair to pull me down for a kiss that’s all heat and demand.
I slide one finger inside her, then two, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her eyes flutter closed, her body arching toward mine as I establish a rhythm that has her breathing harder with each stroke.
“Oh my god,” She gasps suddenly. Her hips rock into my touch, seeking more, and I give it to her—slow, deliberate strokes that make her whimper my name like a prayer.
“Jonah,” she breathes. “Less theory, more fieldwork.”
I chuckle against her collarbone, dragging my lips lower, tasting salt and skin. I hook my fingers under the edge of her underwear and tug, grinning when she lifts her hips to help me peel them off.
“Someone’s eager,” I murmur, tossing them aside like they’re evidence of a crime.
“Someone’s slow,” she counters, reaching for me with her good hand and yanking me down until I’m flush against her. “You’re still wearing your boxers. That’s a problem.”
