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Now, if only I could stop thinking about her for longer than a few minutes, I’d be good.
Green eyes, red hair and a smile that could stun me into silence.
Aster was everything.
She didn’t look at me like a meal ticket. In fact, she hardly looked at me at all, and apparently, I liked that. I liked her, but the only interest she had in me was a fake date, and to get back at her hockey ex.
I grumbled, folding my arms across my chest, because I wanted Aster, but I couldn’t have her the way I wanted to. Worst part. It was my own stupid fault. I didn’t have to save her in the library like I did last week, and I certainly shouldn’t have pawed her thighs without permission, but I couldn’t help myself.
With her hands clutching onto those books tighter than Rose held onto Jack in the Titanic, I could already see what was going to happen. The books were going to drop, and she was going to be outed as the peeping Tom that she was. And I didn’t want that for her. Not after all the other rumors spreading about her being a jersey chaser.
Ones that I inadvertently added to by bartering with her to tutor me.
So I did what any friend would do. I helped her out and took matters into my own hands.
She was so engrossed with the bookish blow job that she didn’t even hear me coming, but when I stepped up behind her and she leaned her head back onto my shoulder, I figured she wanted me to go with it. And go with it, I did.
Worst move of my life.
Now, I’d never been one to think a live porn show would get me off, but there was something about watching Aster’s chest rise and fall as she took in everything that had me harder than the flagpole outside the library.
Her smell was intoxicating. Her skin was smooth, and she wasn’t stopping my hands in their path to guaranteed destruction as they skipped up her thigh. Higher and higher, going under her skirt, just mere inches from her center. Ugh, even thinking about it right now, was making me hard again.
I ran a hand through my hair, hoping that would help me get it together. It didn’t. I just needed to admit it to myself. Somewhere between the kiss and thigh touch, I’d developed feelings for my sassy little tutor. From the minute I met her, I wanted her. Badly, but I was never going to admit it to myself because of how royally I fucked everything up in the beginning. It was just the more time we spent together, the worse my feelings got. It started with the initial inability to listen to her when she spoke because her lips were too distracting, but I got over that. Touching her, however…. Well, that was a little harder to get over, because I knew how she felt. I knew the way her breath hitched at my touch, and now all I wanted to do was to see all the ways I could make her breathless again.
It was getting bad. I felt like a desperate, inexperienced teenager, lusting over their teacher. Every time she threw out a word I didn’t understand, or praised me for doing a good job, my mind went places I knew it shouldn’t. Like her lying in my bed with her legs spread open while she tugged at my hair, praising me for what a good job I was doing.
Yeah. It wasn’t great. And every time I saw her, it would get worse, because I’d inevitably see something else about her that would spark a new idea in my mind.
Blowing out a breath, I wiped my sweaty palms on my ironed gray slacks, because I needed to calm down and keep my hands to myself. My pants were stiff and restrictive, so trying to hide a boner in them would be near enough impossible. My thighs had grown far too big for them since I’d started doing college level weight training, but she specifically asked me to wear gray, and I’d wear anything if it meant she’d look at me the same way she did in the library, or after I kissed her.
Fuck. That was when everything went downhill. When I claimed her in front of everyone, even though I had no business doing it. I was an idiot and brought this whole situation on myself.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The sound of my phone vibrating in my cupholder jolted me out of my thoughts, and I quickly checked the message.
Aster:Who is this? Tanner?
I laughed, because even in texts she sounded angry at me. She couldn’t help herself. She was always so wound up, and I’d been thinking about all the ways I’d like to help her unravel. Picking up where we left off in the library could be one way.
Shaking my head, I laughed bitterly.
How stupid was I?
Falling for my tutor and expecting something to happen. What a sad and sorry cliché I’d become.
Tanner:Were you waiting on someone else to pick you up tonight?
Aster:No. Just wanted to know how you got my number.
Tanner:Does it matter? Really, you should have given it to me when we started working together, but you were too stubborn. Hell, I had to ask Ralph for your email, which really should have been given to me the minute you agreed to tutor me.
Aster:I’ll repeat my question. How did you get my number?
Tanner:And considering I’m supposed to be taking you on a ‘date’ tonight, it would be weird of me not to have it.
Aster:Tanner.
