by Noelle Adams
“I feel like I’m on the edge,” I admit, rubbing my eyes and trying to hold back a wave of frustration.
His forehead furrows. “Is it just the grading?”
“I don’t know.” I slump back in my chair. “It’s just...”
This is my moment. My chance to express how I’ve been feeling. He’s asking. His eyes are searching and slightly concerned.
I can just tell him. I need a bit more clarity about our relationship. That’s it.
Just say it.
I’m angry at myself even as I make the decision, but I simply can’t do it.
Because if his answer isn’t what I want it to be, then I’ll have to break up with him. And I’m afraid that might break me.
“What’s the matter, Beck?” he asks, his tone more sober than before.
I shake my head and rub at my scalp with my fingertips. “Just one of those days, I think. When everything makes you crazy. I guess you don’t have days like that.”
“I do occasionally.”
“I’ve never seen you have one of those days.”
“Maybe you don’t see everything.”
I drop my head on my hands. “Sometimes it feels like I don’t see anything.”
He doesn’t answer, and my eyes are hidden by my hands, so I don’t know what he’s doing until I hear the office door click. We always leave it open when both of us are in here, so this is significant.
I look up. “What are you doing?”
He comes over to my side of my desk. “Stand up.”
I frown at him, more confused than annoyed. “What are you doing, Evan?”
“I said stand up.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t have energy for an argument, so I do as he says. I stand up beside my desk chair and meet his eyes confrontationally. “You think bossing me around is going to make me feel better?”
“No. I don’t.” His voice is soft and husky. He pulls me into a hug. “I just wanted to do this, and I couldn’t when you were sitting down.”
It’s the last thing I expect, and it completely does me in. I press myself against his familiar body and soft suit, and I shake.
His arms are tight, comforting, supportive. They’re exactly what I need to feel.
His heart beats beneath my ear, fast and steady. He doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t need to.
We hug for a long time until I’m soft and relaxed against him. Only then does he loosen his arms and draw back to look down into my face. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod, my face tightening briefly with emotion. “I’m good. Thanks.”
He angles his head down to press a soft kiss against my lips. “Has anyone ever told you you’re very kissable?”
I giggle. “Uh, no.”
“And very huggable.”
“No again.”
“And very fuckable.”
My giggles turn into uninhibited laughter. “Fuckable?”
“What’s wrong with that?” His expression is a picture of confused innocence.
I know he’s playing it up on purpose to make me laugh. “No one who looked at you would ever know you have a dirty mouth.”
“Obviously looks can be deceiving.” Then he pauses. “I don’t have that dirty a mouth.”
“No. You don’t.” I pull him down into another kiss and murmur over his lips. “Just dirty enough.”
He slides his hands down until they’re holding my bottom as our mouths move together. I’m not sure when the exact moment is when the embrace changes from sweet and fond to sexy, but it definitely does. It’s not long before I’m rubbing myself against him and he’s growing hard in his trousers.
A glimmer of reason cuts through my haze of lust, and I mumble, “Should we be doing this? We’re in the office.”
“I locked the door,” he says, squeezing the soft flesh at the back of my thighs in a possessive way that thrills me. “We’ll have to be quiet, but it’s good with me if it’s good with you.”
I pause only briefly. Now that I have my hands all over him, I really don’t want to let him go. I give him a slanting smile. “It’s good with me if you think you can be quiet.”
He chuckles and starts bunching up my skirt. “You’re the one who likes to be loud.”
I huff and help him by shimmying out of my panties. “You can be pretty loud too, you know.”
“Then we’ll both have to stifle our instincts.” He grows still for a minute, looking from me to the desk behind me. “Why don’t you bend over the desk, baby?”
My whole body clenches in excitement, and I do what he says.
He positions me the way he wants, parting my legs a bit and pushing my skirt up the rest of the way to bare my bottom.
“I’ve got a condom in the zipper pocket of my purse,” I tell him.
I heard him in my purse, then the unzipping of his trousers and the rustling of fabric, and then the ripping of the condom packet. Then he’s feeling between my legs to make sure I’m ready (I’m definitely ready) and lifting my hips enough to position himself.
I bite my lip over a moan as he enters me.
It’s so raw and real. Bending over the edge of the desk in my own office, surrounded by my work furnishings. The hard edge of the desk pushes into my belly, and I reach out to hold on to the opposite end to stabilize myself. Evan is big and hard and intrusive inside me, and his thrusts are short and forceful.
We don’t have time for a lot of foreplay or experimentation. This has got to be down and dirty by necessity.
We’re both huffing, and I catch myself every time I get too loud. When his fucking starts to feel really good, I have to let go of the desk and stuff my fist in my mouth to smother the sound.
“Can you come, baby?” he asks after a few minutes, leaning farther over and talking thick and soft. “I’m not gonna make it long.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Gonna come.” The response is forced out in broken pants. My whole body is flushed and damp, and my hair is falling into my face, and my body is about to erupt.
He grabs hold of my ass cheeks and thrusts hard and fast.
I sob over my fist as the tension finally breaks, and he comes right after me with a series of stifled groans.
He holds the position for a minute afterward, stroking my bottom and thigh with one hand. Then he pulls out, takes care of the condom, and pulls up his trousers. He helps me stand up, and I push down my skirt before he pulls me into a warm embrace.
“You’re amazing, baby,” he murmurs against my neck. “Amazing.”
My heart melts.
I’ve got nothing in the world to complain about.
It hasn’t even been two months.
Things between Evan and I are going just fine.
OUR LOVEMAKING IN THE office sustains me for another two weeks, but slowly those flickers of anxiety start to show themselves again when he continues to tell me nothing more about his family and background, and he makes no move to bring our relationship out into the open.
There’s no rational reason not to. Relationships between faculty in different departments are not against policy and are not problematic. We have no real professional conflicts to worry about.
There’s absolutely no explanation for the hesitation except he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s having sex with me.
Secret relationships are only hot for a little while. Soon they become cumbersome and stifling. Not to be able to share your life with the people around you. Not being able to show the world whom you care about and want to spend time with.
Evan comes over on a Friday night, and we make dinner together and watch the last Hobbit movie. He’s seen all six movies now, and we have a good time talking about the choices made for the film. It’s almost midnight when I get into bed. Evan’s taking a shower, so he hasn’t joined me yet.
I feel mostly content. It’s a good relationship. The things that bother me aren’t all that big.
But they’re bothering me more and more, and I know it’s wrong
that I still don’t want to admit that to Evan.
Maybe a little part of me wonders if I deserve a guy like him and is afraid that if I try to stake a claim, he’ll slip right out of my hands.
I don’t like admitting to that kind of insecurity. I’ve grown so much over the past five years. I love myself and I love my body, and if other people don’t appreciate me, then it’s their problem, not mine.
But I guess I’m not totally there yet. And I catch myself wondering why Evan is with me and not with a prettier, slimmer, more polished and elegant woman.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to make our relationship public. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want me to know anything about his family.
Maybe it’s me.
I lie in bed while the shower runs, and I mentally talk myself out of believing those lies. They might still be a part of me, but I don’t have to welcome them into my mind, my soul.
By the time the shower turns off and Evan comes back into the room wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants, I’m back in control of my worries and insecurities.
I smile at him as he comes to bed because he’s clean and sexy and so incredibly smart. Because he’s got a fond look in his eyes that I love.
He climbs under the covers beside me and pulls me against him, wrapping me in a soft embrace. “I had a good evening,” he says, pressing little kisses into my hair and across my forehead.
We haven’t even had sex yet, so his words definitely make me feel good. “So did I.”
“I never used to have such good evenings.”
I adjust so I can see his face. “Really? What were your evenings like?”
“Way too many of them were spent alone with my books.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“I know. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I definitely do now. A lot of my life was spent being lonely.”
My heart has started to race. It feels like he’s opening up again. I want it to happen so much, but I also don’t want to pounce on the opportunity and make him feel pressured. I ask lightly, “Did you have any friends?”
“Some casual friends from school, but no one I ever felt close to.” He pauses. “Not until I was an adult, I think.”
“Surely there was someone in your school who was like you. Who liked books and studying and things.”
“Yeah. Yeah, there were. But people kind of fell into groups, and I never fell into any of them. It’s probably my fault. I always held back.”
“Why?”
“Because...” He clears his throat. “Because every time I tried to get close to someone, I ended up getting rejected. So I learned not to try.”
“Oh Evan.” I give him a full-body hug. “That’s just not right.”
He hugs me back, and I can tell he’s taking comfort in me. “It’s not that big a deal. I was a kid. A lot of kids don’t have an easy time of it. I made it through. I grew up. I got better.”
“I know you did. But I still think your family could have looked out for you better, the way you’re doing with Sara.”
He shakes his head and sighs. “I’ve just never been close to my family.” He clears his throat. “Speaking of...”
I hold my breath. Is he actually going to tell me more about his family?
“They’re coming into town tomorrow. Just for the weekend.”
“Oh really?” Again, I pitch my voice as easy and unconcerned.
“Yeah. Sara and my parents. So I’m going to need to spend time with them tomorrow afternoon and Sunday morning. I won’t be able to hang out with you all weekend like we’ve been doing.”
My fluttering heart drops like a rock. “Oh. Okay. That’s no problem.” I bite my lip, but I can’t hold back the next thing. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them, if it’s not too weird or anything.”
He’s silent for a few moments. Too many moments. Then he says, “It would be weird. I’d rather not get into all that.”
My burgeoning hope dies a quick death. “Okay. No worries. I told Katrina we could get together tomorrow anyway. I’ll just hang out with her.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
And that’s it. That’s the conversation.
I don’t have time to process it and decide how I feel about it before Evan’s making his move. He rolls me over on my side and kisses me, deepening the kiss as I respond.
Of course I respond. I always respond to him. I want as much of him as I can get.
We have sex under the covers. He makes me come with his fingers inside me and his mouth on my breast, and then he moves on top of me and takes me in missionary position. I squeeze my hand down to my clit to rub myself off so I can come again while he’s inside me.
He mutters out a lot of things I want to hear while he’s working up to climax. About how beautiful I am. How passionate I am. How hot and sexy and amazing I am. How he wants me so much. How no one has ever made him feel as good as I do.
And I believe him. I want to believe him.
But I don’t understand why, if all that is true, he won’t share more of himself with me.
Because I’m finally having to acknowledge that—as incredible as he makes me feel—this relationship is no longer enough for me.
I don’t want a hot fling or a guilty secret.
I want a man who wants to share my life and share his with me.
And maybe Evan doesn’t want to do that right now.
Maybe he never will.
THE NEXT DAY, I GET together with Katrina for lunch, and we have plans to see a movie afterward.
We talk about how she’s finally over her breakup and how she’d like to start dating again and actually have a little fun.
Then she asks me about Evan.
I tell her the truth. The whole truth. I’ve got to talk to someone, and Jennifer has been busy this week with Marcus and her sick grandmother.
“It’s a bad sign, isn’t it?” I ask her when I’ve finished my story. “It’s got to be a bad sign that, after two months of a pretty intense relationship, he doesn’t want me to meet his parents and won’t even talk about them with me.”
“I don’t know,” Katrina says slowly, sipping on her lemonade. “Some guys move slow.”
“I know. But usually slowness in dating meets getting together only once a week or taking a while to have sex. We haven’t been slow about that. We jumped right into sex, and we get together almost every single day. It feels serious. And it’s been two months of that kind of seriousness without any sort of commitment or opening up on his part.”
“Is he hiding something, do you think? I don’t mean something horrible like a wife or a criminal record. But maybe there’s something about his background he doesn’t want you to know?”
“Why not? I’m not a judgmental person. I don’t think.”
“You’re definitely not.”
“So why would he be afraid to tell me something?” I groan. “Maybe he’s a spy and Dr. Evan Jones is a secret identity.”
Katrina laughs as I knew she would. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation for it. Some guys just move slow.”
“I guess. But in my experience, guys who move slow are those who aren’t really sure about the relationship. Guys who are sure don’t keep putting on the brakes. So maybe...” My throat hurts so much I have to swallow over a lump. “Maybe he’s just really along for the ride, as Marcus says. And he doesn’t want me enough to make it real.”
“Does he act like he wants you?”
“Yes. Unless I’ve turned into a clueless person, he acts like he wants me.”
“And you want him?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
Katrina’s eyes are a combination of sympathetic and resigned. “Then you need to talk to him. Tell him the truth. The uncertainty is getting in the way of your happiness, so you need to deal with it.” When I start to respond, she talks over me. “I know it’s a risk. I know it could mean what you have is over. But if it’s over from you wanting som
ething so natural and reasonable, then it was never really yours to begin with.”
My eyes burn, and my throat hurts, but I nod in response.
Because she’s right.
I know she’s right.
And I can no longer stall by saying it’s too soon.
It’s not too soon. It’s time.
And if this relationship isn’t going to be real, then it isn’t a relationship at all.
I’VE RESOLVED TO TALK to Evan on Sunday evening. I know I need to do it now, so I’m not going to hesitate any longer. I figure we can get together for dinner, and I can bring it up easily by asking about how his time with his parents and Sara went.
But Evan texts in the afternoon to tell me that his family is staying in town for another night, so he won’t be able to get together with me on Sunday after all.
It’s like a blow to the gut.
It’s not personal. I know it’s not personal. Evan isn’t wrong to prioritize time with his parents since he doesn’t see them very often.
But I was all ready to have this discussion, and now I’m going to have to wait.
He’s not in the office when I arrive on Monday morning, so I assume he’s having breakfast with Sara and his parents before they leave town.
That’s fine too. He has every reason to do so.
But the sight of his empty desk upsets me unduly.
I’ve got class at eight o’clock. And nine o’clock. And ten o’clock. And one o’clock. It’s going to be the middle of the afternoon before I have the chance to really talk to him.
I teach my first three classes—not my most articulate of days—and I’m heading down the hall to our office suite when I run into Evan.
He’s leaving the office, but he doesn’t have his bag, so I assume he’s just heading for the bathroom.
“Hey,” I say with a smile. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen him. “I missed you this morning.” I talk in my normal voice. It never occurs to me to do anything else.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Had breakfast with Sara and my folks.”
“How did that go? Did you have a good time with them?”
“It was fine.” He’s talking a lot softer than me and glancing up and down the hall.