Page 247 of The Professor's Wife

My eyes were cloudy and still full of lust. I couldn’t remember the last time I looked like this. I never looked like this. Skin glowing, lips puffy, the expression of a satiated woman.

My hands were shaky as I turned the faucet off and left the bathroom. Tristan was on the edge of the bed. He’d thrown his jeans on but nothing else. He hadn’t even zipped up the jeans, so they were wide open, revealing that enticing line of hair—

I looked back up to his face. He stared solemnly back at me. We held each other’s gaze for a long moment before I broke it and began to move to the hotel door.

Before I even got to it, Tristan was there before me. He stood in front of me, his chest still heaving as he peered down at me, hands on his hips. His expression filled with torment as he gritted, “Not so fast, Daze.”

“I have to go,” I said, reaching for my heels. “I’m…I’ve got that appointment—”

“Let me walk you back.”

“No!” I quickly fastened them and stood up straight. “I’m alright, truly.”

“You’re just going then?” He looked lost for words. He briskly ran a hand through his hair. “Was it not good?”

“It was good,” I quickly told him, nodding. “It was really good, but I have to go.”

“Let me take the elevator down with you at least,” he said. “I’ll—”

“I don’t want you to.”

His breathing slowed as he watched me, his eyes darkening slowly. “You came for a fuck then.”

I winced at his word choice. “Don’t be vulgar.”

He laughed dryly. “You wanted a working cock.”

My voice rose. “Stop it, Tristan!”

“Your husband can’t get it up for you or something?”

Anger ripped through me. “I didn’t expect to jump into bed with you—”

“Bullshit.”

My face flamed. “I left that restaurant, Tristan. You followed me.”

“Was that a mistake?”

Heart thumping, I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know, was it?”

He fumed in return. “You brought it up, Daisy.”

“I was trying to say that I didn’t expect this to happen, alright?”

He ground his teeth together, watching me closely. “Where do you have to be in such a hurry? Or is it that you can’t confront yourself?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Are you supposed to see him at the clinic? Is that what you’re afraid of?” His mouth twisted. “Now you’ve got to run back and scrub me off before your husband notices what you did. But I came deep, Daze. You’ll still feel me leaking out when you’re standing beside him.”

Now my heart jumped to my throat as another wave of anger tore through me. “Stop, Tristan! Just move!”

He moved, and yet I didn’t.

I just stood there, frustrated and upset because I knew how this looked. I was running off minutes after we’d finished, and it looked slimy. I wrung my hands together and looked up at him.

“This meant a lot more to me than you think.”