Page 24 of His Favorite Student
“And the way he touches me…” My blush deepens. “It’s like my body is the most important thing in the world. Like he’s…studyingit because he wants a masters in it.”
“A masters in your body?” Becca giggles, shouldering me softly. “Hot. Can you find me a man like that?”
“What’s his apartment look like?” Dani interrupts. “Is it like a bachelor pad? Or is it all Sherlock Holmes Victorian stuff?”
I burst out laughing. “I’ve only been to his office so far. A leather chair…his desk.”
“You’ve been on his desk?” Becca asks. Her eyes shift as though she’s picturing it. And you know what? I don’t even mind if she is.
“You should wear that blue dress,” Lourdes says, back in project manager mode. “The one with the easy-access top buttons.”
Dani bursts out laughing. “Lourdes!”
“What?” she asks. “It’s important to be prepared. The last thing you want is him fumbling over a bunch of crap while he tries to undress her for her first time!”
I laugh as the girls continue to go on, speculating, arguing, discussing my Thursday tutoring session like it’s the most important thing on social media. Something warm and fizzy starts to bubble up inside me, and I have to cover my eyes with my palms to hide the tears.
Becca notices, though. She always does. She comes and wraps an arm around me. “You really love him, don’t you?” sheasks. All I can do is nod, choking back sobs—wonderful sobs of delight.
“Y-yes. I do.”
Thursday cannot get here soon enough.
I’m ready—ready for him to teach me the last thing there is to teach me. Well, maybe notthe last, but the most important. The one thing that will solidify our love for good. Bind us together.
I want to watch his face as it happens. Hear what he says when he enters me and memorize it so I can write it down later. Because no matter what he teaches me, that’s the girl I always will be: the girl who writes things down. And there’s no way I’m not going to skip the most important thing that’s ever happened to me.
Thursday cannot get here soon enough.
8
AUGUST
She’s wearinga blue dress with buttons that hugs every one of her flawless curves as I open my office door at four-twenty-nine on the most anticipated Thursday of my life.
Those buttons just below her collarbone, framing her cleavage, are practically screaming at me:undo me.
“Professor,” she says coyly.
She tries to enter my office, but I just take her hand and walk her out of the building.
I don’t explain. I just hold her hand as we walk across the parking lot to my car. She doesn’t ask where we’re going. Why would she? She knows. I can feel it in the way her fingers tighten in mine. In the way she’s breathing quickly.
We’re done with my office. What I’m about to do to this goddess requires a bed, privacy, and no threat of interruptions. It requires my house, only a few minutes from campus, which go by in what feels like seconds.
No woman has been here before, and that’s not an exaggeration. I’ve always kept this section of my life completely mine. There was never anyone special enough to bring here.
Until now.
My eyes keep moving to her legs as we walk to the door. The breeze lifts the hem of her dress a tiny bit, and the sight of her smooth skin nearly levels me.
I open the door and let her into my house, which instantly becomesourhouse.She fits like a missing puzzle piece. The key to a life I’d been missing and never even realized it.
“You have a lot of books,” she muses, scanning my shelves. “Mostly medical—”
“Jessie.” She turns and looks at me. I’m standing right in front of her, hands at my sides, jaw clenched with tension. My eyes scan every inch of her body, hidden beneath her adorable blue dress. Every cell in me is screaming at me to doone thing. The thing I brought her here to teach her.
I lean in and kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since the first day. Not carefully or with restraint, not with one hand gripping the desk or the chair, but with both of my hands on her face.
