Page 21 of Teach Me Your Ways

“Shit,” Cece muttered under her breath, loud enough for me to hear.

I loved that she was unabashed. She didn’t pretend to be prim and proper. Neither did I. Cece was the kind of woman that lived her life without giving a shit about opinions. That was sexier than anything else.

While I watched, her right heel followed the other one into the muck moments later, both shoes now claimed by the South Carolina clay that had turned into greedy mud. She stood there at the table without stopping her work. Mud speckled those gorgeous calves, her perfect outfit slowly being destroyed by the reality of actual archeological work.

Strands of red hair had escaped her bun, clinging to her neck and cheek. A streak of mud somehow found its way onto her white blouse when she brushed her hair back with a muddy hand. The pristine, fuck-me outfit was becoming a disaster, and perversely, it was making her even sexier.

I gripped the clipboard in my hands tighter, trying to focus on anything other than the way that wet fabric was starting to cling to her skin. I could imagine fucking her against a tree in the jungle or throwing her body on the muddy ground and plunging into her. The professional thing to do would be to call this off, tell her to go change, maybe even apologize for being a dick about her clothing choices.

When she dropped the hose and had to bend over to pick it up, I knew things had gone too far.

“Lina, continue with the cleaning,” I instructed. “Cece, come with me.”

Lina flashed a smile. There was smug satisfaction on her face. She assumed Cece was in trouble. I ignored her and led Cece back into the building. She was carrying her muddy heels and doing her best to keep her chin raised.

The air-conditioning hit us as we entered, causing Cece to shiver slightly. Her shirt clung to her, revealing more than intended. I averted my gaze, reminding myself of the professional boundaries that must be maintained.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“It’s not what I need.” I led the way to my office and shoved open the door.

If it was what I needed, I’d be pulling that skirt up around her waist. My hands would be smoothing over those thighs that I had been sandwiched between just a couple nights ago. I’d push her back against my desk, sweep everything off it in one dramatic motion. Those heels she’d abandoned outside would be back on her feet, wrapped around my waist as I buried myself deep inside her.

I could picture it perfectly—her head thrown back, that fiery hair spilling across my paperwork, her mouth open in a gasp as I showed her exactly what happened when she played sexy games with me. The white blouse would be torn open, buttons scattered across the floor, and I’d finally get my hands on whatever lacy little number she was hiding underneath.

But that wasn’t what this was about. Couldn’t be what this was about.

I pulled a pair of coveralls from the closet. “Here, put these on over your clothes. They’ll protect you from the mud.”

She nodded, taking the coveralls. “Thank you,” she said softly.

I stepped out to find a pair of sneakers that might fit her, eventually locating a pair in Felix’s office. When I returned with the sneakers, I found her struggling with the coveralls. The skirt had ridden up around her waist as she tried to maneuver the bulky fabric over her curves. I caught a glimpse of white cotton panties that were damp from the water. Or maybe they were damp because she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

The fabric had gone translucent, clinging to her in ways that made my mouth go dry. I could see the outline of what I knew to be one of those trimmed little landing strips. And fuck me, the carpet matched the drapes.

I should have looked away. Should have cleared my throat, announced my presence, given her privacy to adjust herself. Instead, I stood there like a voyeur, drinking in the sight of those generous hips, the way the wet cotton outlined every curve beneath.

Shit. I was no better than those frat boys at the bar.

She looked up and caught me staring. Heat flashed in her blue eyes. It wasn’t embarrassment, but something far more dangerous. Recognition. She knew exactly what I was thinking, and the slight curve of her lips told me she wasn’t entirely mad about it.

“Professor?” Her voice was breathless.

I forced myself to look away, jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might crack. “The sneakers,” I said roughly, setting them on the desk without meeting her eyes.

This was insane. I’d been teaching for years, had worked alongside countless female students and colleagues without losing my goddamn mind. But Cece Monroe bulldozed through every defense I’d built, every professional boundary I erected. Shit. Wrong choice of words.

I gestured to the sneakers. “They might be a bit tight, but they’ll be better than heels.”

She smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Thanks, Professor.”

I cleared my throat, stepping back. “I’ll see you back outside.” With that, I left the room, needing a moment to collect myself. Every second I was in her presence was testing my resolve to keep my hands off.

Back on the lawn, Lina looked up as I approached. “Everything okay?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Just ensuring everyone is properly equipped,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. “Feel free to let me know if you need anything as well.”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” she said quietly.

Great. Now both TAs were crossing boundaries. Unlike Cece, Lina was easy to ignore, which was what I did in response to her comment. Although they were almost the same age, Lina was still a child while Cece was a woman. I kept forgetting Cece was off limits, but with Lina, I had zero interest.

It was a bit of a relief to know I wasn’t suddenly lusting after all my students. Just the one.

Cece returned shortly after, now in the coveralls and sneakers, ready to continue. She didn’t even look at me. That was probably for the best. I was barely holding on.