Professor

That was a weakness … powerful forearms that made me feel so feminine.

“Close the door behind you.” The order was laced with arousal, and I found myself reaching behind me without breaking his gaze, shutting it, and taking a deep breath in.

For long moments I just stood there, neither one of us saying anything, the heat in the room suddenly becoming scorching. I pictured me lying in bed as I spoke to him, as I touched myself and got off.

That had been something I’d never done before, but I realized I wanted to do more of it with Lucian.

I wanted to do so much more.

What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to act like this was a student/teacher relationship when it was anything but?

I curled my fingers tighter around the folder and took the few steps that were required to get to his desk. He didn’t say anything as he watched me set the folder down in front of him. Then I took a step back, rubbing my hand up and down my thigh.

He lowered his gaze to watch the act, then lifted his attention back up to look at me.

“You’re nervous.” He said it softly, not phrasing it like a question.

Of course I was, yet he seemed so collected.

“I wanted to hand in my paper in person.” God, it was so hot in his office.

“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.