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“It’s not due for weeks, Grace.”
I swallowed and nodded. My throat was so dry and tight. “I worked on it all Sunday to keep busy.” Why did I admit that?
“Keep busy?” He lifted a brow and kept his focus trained right on me.
Before I could answer, he stood and walked toward me. There was only a couple of feet between us now, his big body leaning against the side of the desk, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. I felt the breath being sucked right out of me from the sight of him.
“Why don’t you tell me why you had to keep busy, Grace?” He lifted a brow, an inquisitive expression on his face, but also one of desire.
He knew exactly why I had to keep busy, knew that my thoughts had been consumed by him and how he made me feel. I could see the truth written across his face.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself. I was so inexperienced in this situation … in anything sexual if I was being completely honest.
Here was my professor, somebody I was in love with, someone who had gotten me off and hadn’t even touched me, and I had no idea how to explain any of this. I didn’t even know how to process it myself.
He reached out, and I froze, felt his fingers brush along the side of my neck as he pushed the hair off my shoulder. I felt like this was something he enjoyed doing, as if he derived pleasure from it as much as I did.
“Tell me, Grace.” His voice was so low and deep, urging me to answer him, to be honest.
“I had to keep busy because all I could think about was you.” I could’ve slapped my hand over my mouth, the words spilling from me before I could fully comprehend that they’d come out. But they hung between us, the truth—or partially so—not able to be taken back.
I heard this deep sound leave him and watched as he pushed off his desk, taking a step toward me. I could’ve reached out and curled my hands around his shirt, brought him closer to me, rose up on my toes and pressed my mouth to his.
That’s what I really wanted to do.
“Were you thinking about you and me, how you felt when we were on the phone, the dirty things I was telling you to do to yourself?”
I found myself nodding, not wanting to lie to him. What good would that do anyway? I wanted to be truthful, wanted to tell him that I was in love with him. Maybe I just needed to come out and say it? Maybe then he’d see the depth of how I felt? Maybe then he’d understand if he got involved with me it wouldn’t just be this one-time thing.
But as I looked into his eyes, repeated his words in my head, I knew this wasn’t just a one-off for him. Maybe he wanted me the same way I wanted him? I wouldn’t know until I asked him, until I told him.
I felt the words rise up in my throat, sit on the tip of my tongue. But I was afraid, worried that saying something so deep and profound would ruin everything. I didn’t want that to happen, especially since I’d finally gotten the object of my love.
He took another step toward me, sliding his hand behind my neck, his body heat spearing into mine. I had my hand wrapped tightly around the strap of my backpack, everything else fading away except this one moment.
And then he started walking forward, using his body to make me move backward. It wasn’t long before I felt the wall stop my retreat, and felt his fingers wrap around the strap of my bag and pull it off my shoulder.
He set it down beside my feet, then trailed his fingers up the outside of my thigh, settling them on the hem of my skirt. Tingles shot throughout my entire body, and my heart pounded against my ribs. I didn’t know what he had planned, but I was so ready for it.
“Was that the first time you’ve gotten yourself off by listening to someone talk dirty to you?”
I nodded, my voice lodged in my throat. My affirmation had him growling.
“Good.” He lowered his gaze to my mouth, and I found myself licking my lips. “If I’m being completely honest, the very thought of another man even looking in your direction sends me into a rage.” His eyes dropped to half-mast, and I felt myself become wetter.
I clenched my thighs together, the skirt I wore rubbing against my skin, my body ultrasensitive in a matter of seconds. I held my breath. Could I really be that honest with him?
Yes. I needed to be. “I’ve never been with a man,” I whispered softly. “I’ve never done what we did over the phone.” He made a low sound of approval and took a step forward. I felt his erection digging into my belly, a hot, hard length that had a small gasp leaving me.
He felt monstrous behind his jeans, so big I actually wondered if he’d fit inside of me.
He had his hands precariously close to the edge of my skirt, his fingertips brushing my bare skin. I think part of me had wished something like this would happen when I came to his office, and so I’d worn something that would allow him easy access.
I felt so dizzy, every erogenous zone in my body alive.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
I nodded, the breath coming out of me in short pants.
