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I lean down and spit, then rinse. My hair is wild since we took two showers last night and this morning, and I guess I slept on it wet. I look around for a brush.
“Whatever.” I try to run a hand through the curls, almost screaming when Brett taps on the door again.
“Stop hiding, Alex.”
Dammit, how does he know?I straighten my shoulders and try to look casual. Clutching his blue towel, I swing the door open.
Blue eyes, like the ocean, stare at me as he blocks the exit, leaning against the doorframe and holding a white mug with the purple and red crest of CAU on it.
“You okay?” He grins.
“Yes. Fine, why wouldn’t I be?” I bite my lower lip. Barefoot and dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt, he’s so incredibly hot, it’s not fair.
Bare feet. I almost groan because something is really sexy about barefoot guys.
“Black okay?”
“What?” My eyes dart up to his as he pushes off the frame and hands me the mug.
“The coffee?”
As if on autopilot, my hands automatically take it. Closing my eyes, I shake my head.
“Yes, I like it black… I’m sorry, I’m just… I didn’t know where my clothes were, and you were gone, so I thought I should leave, then—”
“You decided to hide?” He laughs, leaning over to give me a slow kiss, and my heart races. My brain screamsdangerbecause I need to remember he’s my professor, not someone I can fall in love with.
“How’s my peach pie feeling this morning?” He keeps smiling, and all thoughts of him being my dean fly out the window as I lean into him, waiting for him to kiss me again.
“What?” My eyes pop open, and he laughs. And I learn two things.
One, Dean Powers is a morning person.
Two, he’s got a dimple on his right cheek when he smiles and laughs.
“My pie, it’s got to be sore.” He steps back and motions to his bed. My clothes are neatly folded, and the comforter is now dark blue.
“Get dressed if you want to learn to surf,” he says, leaving me with my coffee and a throbbing wet pussy.
I take a deep breath, trying to get ahold of all these feelings. Not only is he not kicking me out, but he’s going to teach me to surf?
“You know I don’t have a bikini.” I look around his bedroom for a coaster so I can set my coffee down. His room is celery green with dark wood furniture, and I guess the ocean is his art because he’s got a million-dollar view.
“Hurry up. The tide is coming in,” he yells back.
After chugging the coffee, I set the mug on his nightstand and look at my clothes. Even my tiny panties are folded perfectly. Are these clean? Did he wash my clothes? Yep, these are clean. I quickly get dressed, then grab his mug and walk out into the large room. It’s all open. The kitchen is to the right, then the living room, with his couch and TV. But it’s the large windows and that view that make me hesitate.
“Your place is unbelievably beautiful.” He looks up from reading something on his laptop, which sits on his blue granite island. And I have to bite my tongue not to say,and so are you.
“Thank you.” He shuts the laptop. “I inherited it.” He walks over and takes the empty coffee mug from me, his fingers grazing mine, leaving behind invisible red-hot sparks.
Burning. As I wait for him to kiss me, it’s like I have a fever and he’s the only thing that can cure me.
Instead, he says, “Let’s go. You need a bikini, board, and wetsuit.” He reaches around me for his keys.
“Dean Powers…”
Smiling again, he kills me with his next words. “You can call me Brett. You’ll know when I’m Dean.”
