Page 244 of The Professor's Wife

Slowly, his hands slipped out of his pockets, fingers flexing once like he wasn’t sure what to do with them now that he wasn’t holding himself back.

He took one step toward me.

Just one.

But it changed everything.

His voice was low, roughened by something he wasn’t hiding anymore. “Daisy…”

I held his gaze, refusing to look away. “Tristan…”

His breath hitched—a small, involuntary sound that betrayed just how deeply hearing his name affected him.

Then…he came alive.

He dragged his shirt off in one fluid movement. My eyes followed it to the floor before returning to him. His chest was broad and deeply tanned, narrowing toward his waist, the muscles across his stomach shifting with every uneven breath. His arms looked even thicker without the sleeves covering them, strong from something more real than a gym. Work. Travel.

A life lived outdoors. In the wild. Rough and unregulated.

I shook beneath his stare. But he didn’t come at me.

That was what undid me. The fucking control he just gave to me.

He stood a few feet away, his broad chest rising and falling, every part of him drawn tight with restraint. His eyes moved over the thin bra and underwear I stood before him in, but his hands remained at his sides. I crossed the space between us. I forced confidence in every step, but inside I trembled like a leaf.

The instant my palm touched his chest, his breath changed. Heat poured from his skin, and his heart struck hard beneath my hand.

Somehow, I knew his hand would reach for the back of my neck before it lifted.

My chin tilted for him. His fingers slid into my hair, and his mouth met mine in a savage kiss that bruised my lips and pulled a gasp from me. Hunger broke through his restraint so quickly that I stumbled against him, but his arm closed around my waist. I was going nowhere. Not that I wanted to be anywhere else but here.

There was a desperate edge to his kiss that my body answered instantly. His hand tightened at the back of my neck while the other gripped my hip, holding me against his tall, solid frame. A groan moved deep in his throat when I pressed closer.

His mouth changed against mine, and I followed without thought. When his hand shifted lower on my hip, my body was already pressing impossibly closer. He suddenly drew back for half a second, something uncertain passing through his expression.

I didn’t allow it. I shook my head, silencing his question.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I whispered.

He swallowed, not answering.

Then I pulled him back to me. At the same time, I walked him backward until the backs of his knees struck the bed.

He sat heavily, looking up at me with an expression that made my pulse stumble. Hunger, certainly. But there was something else there, something like disbelief. I stepped between his thighs and touched his face.

His jaw tightened beneath my palm, the dark stubble rough against my skin. “Daze.”

My body burned. I bent and kissed him again. His hands settled around my hips, gripping me tightly in a way I desperately wanted. Need shot through me.

I climbed into his lap. My knees came down on either side of him, and the ease of it made us both pause. His fingers tightened around my hips.

“How the fuck do you do that?” he murmured.

“Do what?”

He looked at me as though the answer disturbed him.

“Fit.”