by Autumn Grey
She bites the corner of her mouth, cups my jaw in her hands, forcing me to meet her gaze, and says, “I’m going to kiss you now, Professor.”
Fuck. Me.
She smiles before leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine, and the world falls away from under me.
“Fuck the rules,” I grunt, grip her hips, and pull her flush to me. My body tenses as pain rushes from my shoulder, forcing my hand to relax and let the pain pass. I shift her weight to my left arm, grasp that obnoxious, lopsided bun that still makes her look so goddamn hot, holding her to me as my mouth descends.
“Shit, your arm,” she says, attempting to move away, but I circle my left arm around her waist and pull her to my chest.
“It will pass,” I say, breathing in through my nose, my eyes falling shut.
I feel soft lips on mine, and my eyes snap open to find hers locked on me. Her teeth come out to play, nipping my bottom lip, still watching me. I’m waiting, the need to kiss her driving me crazy, but I want to see how far she will take this. A moan slips through her lips, and my grip around her tightens as her hands move restlessly, like she can’t get enough of me. She kisses like dynamite: starts out slow, the fire building up before everything around us detonates as soon she bites down on my lip, hard.
Our mouths mesh into an explosive kiss full of need and want, a little ungraceful as our lips learn each other’s shape and pressure. Then I’m pulling my arm from around her, pressing her tight little body into the wall behind her while pushing my hips into her to support her body. My tongue greedily seeks hers, wanting inside her mouth. Thank fuck she opens up for me and I shove inside, circling my hips in the same rhythm as my tongue. She sighs and moans low in her throat as if she has been waiting for this kiss her entire life, and my fingers tighten around her hair.
Hot fucking damn.
This kiss makes sense, the dissonant notes from before turning into a harmonious tone, a prelude to a deeper kiss. Darker, sweeter notes and even darker, addictive depths.
My arm could fall off and I wouldn’t even care. This girl, this perfection in my arms, reminds me how it feels to want someone with a ruthless hunger, wanting them like they are your next breath. And being wanted in return.
I squeeze her thigh and skim my hand up, then dip it under those insanely hot shorts to cup her ass. I sweep in front and land on her pussy. She whimpers, urgently rubbing herself on my fingers.
She’s wet, so fucking wet. My cock is pressing against my zipper, wanting inside her heat.
“I need inside you, Elon,” I murmur between kisses.
She groans and mumbles inaudibly through her panting.
“What?”
“I want to feel you so badly.” Her hands leave my hair and are now rubbing my swollen cock through my pants. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this moment. In class, at the office, every freaking single time.”
I snag her wrists to stop her. With my eyes closed, I pull back, our inhales and exhales rough, hot. Trying to catch our breath.
“God,” she moans and my eyes open.
“Was that firm and cruel enough for you, Miss Blake? Soft enough?”
“Oh, God,” she whispers, brushing her fingertips on her swollen lips. “I knew it. I knew it would be perfect.”
The sound of feet padding hits my ears, right before a male voice—Nick—yells Elon’s name, jolting me.
Shit.
I set her down, making sure her feet touch the floor before dropping my hands. A primal part of me wants to continue kissing her until I make my point clear to Nick that she is mine now. Elon says they are just friends, but I saw the way he was looking at her earlier today.
He is crushing on her. Badly.
Common sense kicks in and I step away from Elon.
“I’m not done with you,” I say gruffly, pulling my phone out of the pocket of my pants. I scroll through my contacts and pause on the name “Red”, which is the name I used to save her number. Let’s face it: I’d never be on the list to receive awards for coming up with the best nicknames.
Quickly, I open a new text and shove the phone in her hands, then rattle my address for her to type in. If fucking her will get her out of my system so we can go on with our lives, then so be it.
She wants it.
I want it.
Two adults. One goal. A goal that could get her expelled and me fired.
Fucking each other’s brains out.
When she’s done, I take my cell phone and tap send.
“You have my address now. I want to finish what we just started. Today.”
“Um. . .Elise is sleeping over,” she says, looking dazed. She straightens her tiny shorts and licks her lips, as if to remind herself what I taste like. “Tomorrow after my tutoring class? Around seven-thirty in the evening?”
I nod curtly, partly focused on the footsteps drawing closer. “You look so hot with your lips swollen and cheeks flushed.” I duck my head and steal a quick kiss that has her moaning deep in her throat.
I pull back, watch her face while her eyes blink open. No chaos in my head. No heaviness in my heart. “I don’t feel it when I’m with you.”
She blinks at me in confusion. “Feel what?”
“The darkness. The pain.” I hear the wonder in my voice. “I feel—” I try to look for the right words. “A sense of calm.”
She swallows visibly, tears forming in her eyes. “Nathaniel. . .Nate.” She opens and closes her mouth, shakes her head and smiles through the wetness falling on her cheeks. “I’m glad.” She swipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, still smiling, and says, “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I swipe a thumb under one cheek then the other, the tears making my chest hurt. I want to ask her why she is upset, but that fucking Nick sounds closer now.
I turn and jog down the steps, wincing when my arm jostles, sending pain skittering down.
When I climb into my car, I pull out the bottle with my medication and toss a tablet in my mouth, then lean my head back and close my eyes, waiting for the pain to pass. Still breathing hard. Heart racing fast inside my chest. My mind replays the kiss on loop. I can’t remember the last time my knees felt this weak after a kiss. My entire body feels like I’m floating on air. I wouldn’t be surprised to see rainbows and glitter shooting out of my ass.
I open my eyes and glance at the clock.
Five minutes until two o’clock. I restart the BMW, roll out of the parking spot and drive off toward Rushmore.
I search through my brain for any traces of regret. I’ve always been mindful of other people’s well-being. I’ve never done something so reckless, stupid even. But today, I crossed a line that could get me fired and Elon expelled, destroying her dreams in the process.
I regret putting her education in danger, but I don’t regret that life-altering kiss.
Best fucking kiss. Ever. With my student.
Fuck.
I still can’t believe Nate actually came to visit me. I swear the moment I heard his voice on the intercom, my heart sped up so fast I thought it would rip through my chest. Then he backed me against the wall at the stairs and kissed me as if he has been waiting for years to ravish me.
God. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes and—
“Nick!” I screech, almost tumbling backward down the stairs when I see my best friend standing two feet away. My arms wheel about, seeking purchase. My hand finds the banister and grasps tightly while my free one clutches my chest. “You scared me.”
Nick is standing there, his head tilted up toward the ceiling, eyes wide. His face has gone pale, mouth gaping.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, dropping my hand from my chest and hurrying forward. His focus doesn’t waver. In fact, the way his throat is bobbing as he swallows, I think he’s going to vomit. Panic tightens its fist around my neck. “Is everything OK? Nick, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
His head drops, his eyes meet mine, anger brimming in their depths.
> “What the hell?” His voice is tortured, full of disbelief.
“What?”
Surely he couldn’t have seen Nate and me sucking face.
He takes a deep breath, releasing a gush of air through his mouth. “You and him? What the actual fuck, Elon?”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
“What?” I ask dumbly. Think. Damage control!
He lifts his arm and jabs a finger at the ceiling, then glares at me accusingly.
My gaze darts in the direction he pointed, and my world splits in the middle, pushing out panic, sucking out all the air in me when I realize he saw me on those surveillance hall monitors.
Three months ago, the management of this building installed surveillance cameras in the halls and stairways after a freshman was found unconscious, frothing at the mouth on the staircase. They wanted to make sure it was possible to monitor the public spaces at any given time. The little screen in the corner on every floor ensures the security guard is able to see if there’s anything going on as he patrols inside the building.
The cameras never bothered me before. In fact, I completely forgot they existed because I’ve never been one to fool around in hallways and staircases.
Until now.
I look away from the tiny surveillance monitors propped where two walls meet, then back at Nick. My mouth feels like it’s filled with sand, my breath stuttering in my throat.
“I can explain—” I choke on the words because this is Nick, my best friend and one of the sweetest guys I know. The boy who has had a crush on me since we moved in next door to his house when I was nine.
My throat feels tight now, and I have to bite my bottom lip to stop it from trembling.
“You were kissing that asshole?” A vein ticks furiously on his temple. “Your professor?”
Lie, Elon. Freaking lie.
I kill that thought quick. I’m the worst liar ever. When I lie, my lips start to wobble and my eye twitches.
So I nod, forcing the panic back down my throat with a quick swallow. “But listen—”
His nostrils flare, his face, bordering on too pretty, now twisted with anger.
“Why was he here? Is he forcing you to do something you don’t want to do? Because if he is, you have to report him to the head of school. I can be your witness—”
“Nick, stop!” I yell, the sound ringing up the stairs and down the hall.
He stops, his chest rising and falling with exertion.
“I kissed him.” I press my palm flat on my chest.
“What?”
“I kissed him,” I repeat in a firm voice.
He shakes his head emphatically, stepping closer. “You’re lying. You are one of the most level-headed people I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t risk being expelled because this has always been your dream. You are one of the good girls, Elon. For fuck’s sake, why are you lying for him?”
I’m one of the good girls.
In other words, I’m boring.
Unadventurous.
His words make my insides twist with irritation.
I cross my arms on my chest and stare down at my flip flops. “I’m not lying.”
“Look at me.” His tortured voice has my head snapping up, obeying his command.
Then he poses a question that has me wishing the grounds would open and swallow me and dump me in Hell. Surely there must be a special chamber made for people like me.
“Why not me?” He thumps his chest, eyes gleaming as if he’s holding back tears. “Why him and not me?”
Because— “Because you are—” like my little brother. I finish that sentence in my head. I can’t hurt him like that; he is already hurting. Uttering those words will only make things worse.
I can’t lose him.
He drags his fingers through his hair in agitation and asks, “Because what?”
Because I want someone to look at me like I’m one of the bad girls. Someone who looks at me as if he’ll die if he doesn’t kiss me or touch me or breathe the same air as me. Someone who looks beyond the walls I’ve built up and sees me. Really sees me.
And Nate looks at me that way.
“What’s taking you guys so long?” Elise’s voice precedes her, and my body tenses.
Shit. She can’t find out about Nate.
“Nick—” I try again, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stiffens and steps back. “Please, don’t tell Elise—”
Elise’s face pops around the corner, all smiles and twinkling eyes, her gaze bouncing between Nick and me. It drops as soon as she enters the palpable field of tension surrounding us. “Whoa! What’s this? Couple conflict?” she jokes. “I know a thing or two about conflict management, so if you guys need a—”
I glance at my sister and subtly shake my head to let her know this is not the right time to make jokes. Clearly, she doesn’t seem to catch my warning.
“What’s going on?” She sweeps the blue dyed bangs off her forehead, looking at Nick, then me.
Nick’s eyes haven’t left mine. I can still feel the fiery anger in them licking every inch of me.
He shakes his head, and without another word, spins around and storms back to my apartment.
“Elon?” Elise prompts, and my gaze swings back to hers. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nick and I had a little disagreement—”
“Bullshit. You and Nick have never disagreed on anything. So whatever it is must be pretty huge.”
I exhale in frustration, then turn around to keep her from witnessing the tears fighting to fall, and follow Nick. “Leave it, okay?”
Her bare feet pad softly on the cement floor behind me, but she doesn’t press me on it. Thank God. I only have enough strength to deal with Nick at the moment, and I can already feel exhaustion settling in my bones as the adrenaline cools off.
Before we reach our apartment, Nick shoots out the door while shrugging on his navy blue jacket. He gives my sister a quick nod of goodbye, then mumbles a “bye” without even looking at me. I turn to watch him, my chest aching. I listen to his fading footsteps descend the stairs, hear the door open and slam shut. I raise my hand and wipe my cheek. Elise wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a tight hug.
She shoots me a sympathetic look. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. He won’t stay mad at you for long. It’s Nick.”
From your lips to God’s ears.
Then she pulls back and guides me inside the apartment and points to the couch for me to sit down. “Now let’s cheer you up.” She grabs a stack of DVDs on the table and pulls out Game of Thrones. I swear my sister is the only person on earth who still collects DVDs in this age of Netflix and Amazon Prime.
She waves the DVD in the air. “Khal Drogo. Enough said.”
I choke out a laugh, then groan. “I really don’t want to watch anything.” I just want to go to my room and curl up in bed, feel sorry for myself.
“Come on. I know you have a thing for his arms. Such a fine specimen of a man.” She sighs dreamily. “I need a Khal Drogo in my life.”
Knowing Elise, she won’t stop bugging me until I agree. She is already in “big sister” mode, and when she gets like this, it’s always easiest to let her take care of me. I desperately need it right now.
So I settle down on the couch without another word. She heads to the kitchen and returns with two margaritas and shoves one in my hands. She curls up next to me, then grabs the cream knit afghan from the armchair and drapes it around us. No matter how much I pretend to watch Khal Drogo prowling stealthily and beating his chest, my brain keeps replaying what happened. My breath accelerates remembering that kiss. The moment Nate’s lips touched mine, I was done for. It’s like I’ve been waiting for that kiss my whole life. Then images of Nick’s angry face flash in my head. My stomach ties itself in knots. I have to look for a way to talk to him. Maybe I should give him some space. Hopefully time will ride out his anger.
But I won’t regret kissing Nate.
Ever.
>
RIGHT AFTER MY TUTORING CLASS at Studio 22, where I work three days a week—Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays—I drive to the address Nate texted me last night, then park my Jetta outside the building.
My phone beeps twice, alerting me of the incoming text. I dive down on the floor below the passenger seat, grab my bag and dig out my phone, hoping it’s Nick finally texting me back. I’ve texted him several messages and called him double that number of times. He hasn’t replied to any of my messages or returned my calls. Before Elise left this morning, she pulled me into her arms, hugging me tightly, then told me to give Nick time. She said things will work out in the end. I just hope she is right, because losing Nick’s friendship was something I never thought would happen.
Thank God she did not insist that I tell her what happened between us. She knows me too well to persist or question me. Being known as the quiet girl has its perks. No one knows exactly what you are thinking.
There are things even my sisters or Amber don’t know. Like that one time when I was nine years old and our PE teacher had fallen ill, so the afternoon class ended early. The principal’s secretary called the kids’ parents to let them know they were free to pick up their children early. She couldn’t reach Nor on the phone though, so Mrs. Spritzler, who lived a couple of houses down from ours, picked her daughter and me up from school. When I got home, I paused outside the path leading to Mrs. Spritzler’s house when I saw the door to our house was slightly open. So instead of following her to her house and waiting until Nor or Elise came home, I dashed inside our house. I heard moaning coming from upstairs, as if someone was in pain. With my heart racing in my chest, I followed the sound and immediately froze at the door to my mother’s room, unable to take my eyes off what I was seeing. My mom was bent over on the edge of the bed with her head facing the door where I was standing, her eyes closed tightly, tears streaming down her face. Above her was my father, making fast work of yanking her panties down her thighs, then fumbling with his zipper. I must have made a noise because his head swung in my direction, and I saw the glazed look on his face, a look I had seen so many times. He was drunk.