His voice is thick; my insides tremble.
‘Hey,’ I finally respond, forcing a smile to my lips. I stay where I am, even though my instinct is to launch myself at him. I clear my throat. ‘I thought we decided we couldn’t do this any more.’
‘No.’ His grin is disarming. He doesn’t smile enough. ‘We decided we couldn’t fuck in my office at university, which I should never have let happen.’ Now he moves to me, closing the distance easily. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me so close I’m sure he must be able to hear my internal relief. ‘It was my fault.’
‘Was it?’
‘Yeah.’ His grin widens and my stomach flips. ‘My fault for not staying longer Saturday night.’ He presses a kiss to my forehead. ‘My fault for waiting until Tuesday to see you. My fault for losing my shit when you were talking to that guy. My fault for wanting you so much I can’t think straight.’
I blink up at him, confusion nipping at my heels. Confusion at what all of this means, at the intensity of what we feel. He’s supposed to be my rebellion, not my reason for breathing.
‘He’s just a friend.’
‘He looked like he wanted to lick you.’
I laugh. Hadn’t I been thinking the same thing? ‘It’s complicated,’ I say after I sober. ‘We go way back.’
Connor nods. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business. So long as you’re not fucking him, I don’t care.’
The confusion increases. The intensity of what we are apparently doesn’t extend to caring about potential and past boyfriends.
‘We dated a couple of years,’ I say, and I know it’s childish but I kind of hope I’m turning the screws in some way. ‘But it didn’t work out.’
His expression doesn’t shift, the same sexy-as-sin smile on those beautiful lips.
He drops his hands from around my waist and moves towards a glossy benchtop. He presses one of the cupboard doors and it springs open to reveal a miniature fridge. He removes a bottle of champagne and two iced glasses, placing them on the counter before retrieving a plate of fruit.
‘Something you organised earlier?’ I ask, padding over to him, watching as he unfurls the gold foil top from the champagne. His eyes meet mine and there is something in his expression that fires my belly.
‘What do you think of the hotel?’ he asks, without answering my question.
‘It’s nice.’ I shrug.
‘Good. We can meet here.’ He pops the top and reaches for a glass, pouring the frothy liquid into it and handing it to me.
‘We can?’ I sip the champagne just for something to do. He grins at me over the glass.
‘Yeah.’ He tops up the other flute and holds it towards me. I chink mine to the side of his and go to sip it. Our eyes meet and there’s something serious in his expression for a second. ‘I don’t want to stop this,’ he says honestly, and my stomach rolls. ‘But we have to be smarter. No one can ever know about it—about us. Your career would be over before it began.’
I tilt my head to the side. His concern is enormously touching. ‘I’m probably not the first student to sleep with her lecturer,’ I point out.
He nods. ‘Obviously.’
I think about this for a moment. He’s right—we need a way to be together outside of university. A bolthole. A hideout.
‘You think a hotel around the corner from the university is safe?’
He nods slowly. ‘We’ll never arrive together. Never leave together.’ His eyes burn me. ‘And we can get here quickly and easily. Given our schedules, it’s the best option.’
‘And what do I say if someone sees me come here?’
He arches a brow. ‘That you’re meeting a friend for a drink in the restaurant downstairs?’ he prompts and then a distracted smile catches his lips. ‘It’s like you’ve never lied before.’
I feel heat steal into my cheeks and a renewed light of interest flashes in his eyes.
‘Is that a bad thing?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘But you need to be able to keep this secret. Understood?’
He’s right. And there’s something convenient about having this option. I like it. A lot.
Still, his insistence on secrecy has me analysing what we’re doing from every angle. ‘I wonder if it would really be such a big deal. If people found out, I mean.’
He looks like I’ve threatened to jump from the window. ‘Jesus Christ, Olivia. What we’re doing is expressly prohibited by the university code of conduct. I’d lose my teaching job, but that’s not what matters. The Dean also reserves the right to expel any student engaging in inappropriate relations with a faculty member.’
‘I didn’t realise there was actually an official stance on it.’ It sounds naïve, but it’s true.
‘Yeah.’ He nods firmly. ‘And this isn’t like fucking some guy called Bob. People know who I am. If you got expelled because of what we’re doing, it would be in the news. Word would spread even if it didn’t make the papers. Law is a suffocatingly small world. You’d always be the girl who fucked her teacher. Who fucked me.’ He moves closer and it’s ridiculous but the way he’s talking is making me want to fuck him right now.
I wonder once more if it’s the illicitness of this that I find so appealing. Hearing him describe why we need to be careful is making my toes curl in the best possible way.
‘Duly noted, sir,’ I murmur. ‘You know—’ I place my champagne down ‘—this is a very interesting conversation to have with someone I’ve never even kissed.’
He doesn’t acknowledge my comment. ‘This is serious, Olivia. We really can’t do this if you’re not going to toe the line.’
‘Me?’ I ignore the fact he hasn’t taken the bait and kissed me. I now spend a considerable amount of my time imagining what that kiss will feel like. I sway a little closer.
‘Yes.’ He dips his finger into his champagne glass and lifts it to my lips. I open my mouth and taste what he’s offering, moaning a little at the sensuality that engulfs us. He moves his finger lower, running it down my chin to my front, holding it at the pulse point that is rapidly firing at the base of my throat.
‘You’re the one who went all Hulk-green and frogmarched me to your office.’
He laughs at the description. ‘Guilty as charged. But we both have to be more careful. That can’t happen again.’
‘I know.’ I nod. ‘I’ll be good. I swear.’
His eyes glisten as they meet mine. ‘Oh, no, you won’t, Miss Amorelli. This afternoon you’re going to be very, very bad.’ And he scoops me up out of nowhere, lifting me and dumping me in the middle of the king-size bed. ‘Starting right now.’
He spreads my legs and finds my thong, slipping it aside so he can push a finger into my wet, throbbing core. I moan low in my throat at his invasion, and he smiles above me.
‘So you used to date that guy?’
And though his face remains the same, his eyes glitter beyond the façade and I realise he does care after all. He was faking his complacence; I’m unreasonably pleased.
I push up on my elbows, my mind spinning as he moves his finger in small circles, his thumb finding my clit and brushing over it so that I can only whimper in agreement.
‘And you fucked him?’
I tilt my head back as pleasure spreads through me like a tidal wave. It starts low in my abdomen and pulses to