That had been something I’d never done before, but I knew I wanted to do more of it with Seth.
I wanted to do so much more.
What was I supposed to say?
Was I meant to pretend like this was a student and teacher relationship when it was anything but?
I curled my fingers firmly around the folder and walked the few steps that were required to go to his desk. He didn’t say anything as he watched me place the folder down in front of him. Then I took a step back, stroking 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 stated it quietly, without framing it like a question.
Of course, I was, yet he seemed so composed.
“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 gulped 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 came towards me. There was only a couple of feet between us now, his large figure reclining against the side of the desk, his arms crossed over his powerful chest. I felt the oxygen being pulled 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 remain busy, knowing that my thoughts had been consumed by him and how he made me feel. I could see the truth etched on 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 circumstance… in anything sexual, if I was being truly 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 digest it myself.
He stretched out, and I froze, felt his fingertips brush over the side of my neck as he brushed the hair off my shoulder. I felt like this was something he enjoyed doing, as if he drew pleasure from it as much as I did.
“Tell me, Grace.” His voice was so low and deep, wanting 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 gushing from me before I could fully understand that they’d come out. But they hung between us, the truth or partially so—not possible to be taken back.
I heard this deep groan from him and watched as he pushed off his desk, taking a stride toward me. I could’ve stretched out and curled my hands around his shirt, pulled him closer to me, stood up on my toes and forced my kiss to his.
That’s what I truly wanted to do.
Instead, I stood still.
“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 wanted 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 started with me it wouldn’t just be this one-time thing.
But when I gazed into his eyes, repeated his words in my thoughts, I realized this wasn’t simply 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 swell up in my throat, sit on the tip of my tongue. But I was terrified, worried that uttering something so deep and meaningful might ruin everything. I didn’t want it to happen, especially since I’d finally obtained the object of my devotion.
