I imagine pushing the bathroom door open and pulling back the curtain, seeing Summer standing bare before me. Dropping to her knees before me. Taking me into her mouth. Her amber eyes fluttering shut at the taste of me.
The water cuts off, and my head jerks in the direction of the bathroom.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. She’s going to open the door, and I’m going to be sitting on my couch hard as a rock. She’s gonna think I’m a creep, that I’m completely unprofessional and inappropriate.
Iaminappropriate. I invited my student into my apartment in the middle of the night, before offering to let her shower, and then proceeded to fantasize about her.
The door opens, and I hastily cover my lap with one of the couch pillows.
My eyes travel up toned bare legs. All the way up her golden thighs, to where the towel stops just short of the apex of her legs.Fuck me.
She shifts her weight under my intense stare. She shoves wet strands of hair behind her ear as her cheeks flush red. She’s washed all her makeup from the night off, and of course, she looks absolutely stunning without it. “My clothes are soaked,” she says quietly. “And cold.”
“Right, right,” I mutter. “I’m sorry, I forgot to throw those in the dryer for you while you were showering.”Yeah, because you were too distracted with what you wished you could do to her while she was naked in your shower.
“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “It’s not like they would be dry by now anyway.”
God, is it hot in here?
“Um, I can get you something to wear in the meantime?” I offer.
“S-sure,” she stutters.
I stride toward my bedroom, waving at her over my shoulder to follow me.
I grab a black T-shirt out of one of my drawers and hold it out to her. She gently takes it from me, and it might be my imagination, but it feels like she tries to avoid making physical contact with me.
“I didn’t think you owned anything casual,” she quietly muses.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and smirk. “Very funny.”
I continue rummaging through my drawers, trying to find a pair of pants or shorts that might fit her. I scratch the back of my neck nervously. “You can try on a pair of my sweats. I’m not sure if they’ll fit. Or… you can always wear a pair of my boxers…” I trail off, hating howthat sounds.
“The-the shirt’s fine,” she says, face turning beet red.
“I’m sorry, that sounded less weird in my head. Or less weird than only offering you… a shirt,” I mumble, pointing at the fabric in her hand.
She clutches the towel tighter to her, and I try desperately not to think about the fact that she’s basically naked in my bedroom.
“Really,” she says, sounding breathless. “The shirt is just fine.”
I can feel my jaw clench. Imagining her in nothing but my clothes was already hard enough. But in nothing but my shirt?
Torture.
I clear my throat, but still feel like I could use a glass of water. Or a stiff drink. “As long as you’re comfortable,” I manage to get out.
She gestures toward the bathroom out in the hall. “I’ll just get changed then,” she mumbles, before ducking her head and exiting the bedroom.
I wait until I hear the bathroom door click shut before rushing out to grab her dress off the floor. After tossing it in the dryer, I stalk back into the kitchen and down the rest of my whiskey before resting my elbows on the cold marble and putting my face in my hands.
I keep making one bad mistake after another. It feels like I’m on a speeding train that’s just going faster and faster before it inevitably crashes.
Summer exits the bathroom, damp hair leaving wet splotches against the fabric of my T-shirt. She shoves some of the wet strands behind her ear, clearly nervous as she tugs at the edge of the shirt, trying to cover more of her legs.
I quickly look away, not wanting to contribute to making her feel more uncomfortable than necessary.
Her lips tighten in a small smile as she makes her way towardthe couch and her purse. I watch as she grabs her phoneand opens theUber app. She tries to load nearby rides, but nothing shows up. She lets out an agitated sigh and shifts her weight. She holds her arm up a bit higher, trying to see if a better signal will make a difference. The movement causes the shirt to rise, showing more of her upper thighs. I quickly look away, cursing under my breath.
