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My fingers, which were fiddling with the edge of my shorts, get captured by his comfortingly warm grip. When I tilt my head up to check if he’s serious, my mouth is claimed as sneakily as my hand was.
The swaying of the van and the fact that we’re sitting inches away from eight of our peers fade from my consciousness as Nathan treasures me with soft kisses. He places them along my lower lip and then at each of the corners of my mouth.
A smoldering starts low in my belly, sweet warmth tinged with spice, just like my mom’s hot chocolate. I might as well have been lowered into a bathtub full of the dark, decadent beverage. Only the delicious taste on my tongue isn’t candy. It’s Lucifer.
After a moment more of the chaste torture, he pulls away enough to meet my eyes.
“I’m not giving up.”
15
HANNAH
“What’s taking you so long?”My voice comes out in a high-pitched whine, but I figure a guy who wants to spend all day around kids can handle a little complaining.
“Simmer down, Shorty. You want me to come out there with no pants on?”
Even with the dressing room door between us, I can still hear Nathan’s voice through the wooden slats. His question brings an intriguing image to my mind. Visions of him, no pants, strutting through the department store, should be hilarious. Instead, I have to take a long sip of my iced tea, so I can cool down the inferno of lust engulfing my brain. Only when I’m left with nothing but ice cubes in the bottom of my cup do I attempt an answer.
“Um … no?”
A dark rumble of a laugh precedes him just before he steps into view. I’m disappointed to find him fully clothed.
“What do you think? Do I look like a teacher?” Nathan holds his arms out while performing a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn.
When he texted me, asking for my help shopping, I thought it was a joke. But Nathan insisted he was serious. Apparently, in the fall semester, he’ll be starting to visit actual classrooms. Which means he needs to dress in something other than his normal jeans and T-shirt combo.
I assumed I was going to hate professional Lucifer. I’ve never been one to go for the preppy type even if I do enjoy sporting a variety of blazers on occasion.
But I shouldn’t have doubted my former nemesis’s ability to transform any outfit into an attractive shell for his tempting form.
He’s got on a green-checkered shirt, tucked into a snug pair of khakis, with a dark leather belt wrapped around his slim waist.
And he looks fucking hot. The bastard.
“Where are your elbow patches? Any serious teacher has to have elbow patches.” Even as I joke, I stand up to push him toward a mirror.
Standing side by side, we’re nowhere close to being a matched set. Nathan in his professional attire and me in my cutoff T-shirt, which has a rendering of the periodic table on it. At least I’m wearing a skirt today. But it reveals part of my rib cage and ends only halfway down my thighs, which makes me hardly any more presentable.
Good thing I don’t care what the world thinks about my clothes. At my future job, it’ll all end up under a lab coat anyway. The biggest concession I’ll have to make is wearing pants. Not the best idea to handle chemicals with my legs exposed.
“You’re thinking of professors. Teachers, especially elementary school teachers, just need something they can get stains out of and move around in.” He tugs on a sleeve and then fiddles with the top button.
“Okay then, can you move around in it? Let’s see some squats.” I back up, giving him room.
Nathan’s one eyebrow arches high. “You just want to admire my ass in these pants, don’t you?”
“What?” I sputter. “That’s ridiculous. I’m trying to be helpful.”
“Oh, really?” That eyebrow is still curved in mockery, and with an evil grin, he does a few lunges, holding my eyes all the while. “Is this what you want?”
“Those aren’t squats,” I mutter, retreating back to the pleather chair I was perched on before he demanded my input.
When Nathan chuckles this time, the decadent sound of it pulses over my skin, and I try to squash my reaction with more tea. Unfortunately, my cup is empty.
Should’ve ordered a large.
“But, really, Shorty. The clothes. Are they okay?”
