Tempting (10 page)

Sex with Nathan was more than just a romp in the proverbial sheets; it obliterated the senses. He was a generous lover, giving and taking in equal measure, aware and in control even as his body
lost
it. His ability to be restrained, to keep himself in check made me both admire him and want to spin that dominance right out of his hands.

But, as I was freshly fucked and rubber-limbed, I just laid in his arms as our breathing slowed and our skin cooled. The orgasm had rocked me so solidly that I felt myself shiver as I calmed in his arms.

“Are you cold?” he asked, not letting me go.

“A little.” But I didn’t want him to let me go just yet.

He kicked off his pants and wrapped an arm around my upper back and one under my ass as he carried me into my bedroom.

I worried for a moment that he would tuck me in and go about as his way—a repeat of our first night together—but instead he climbed in behind me, tugging my back against his front. I was soothed by his desire to hold me so soon after sex. The near-emotional breakdown from class earlier followed by the two perfect orgasms he’d given me had turned me into warm goo, and I found myself melting into sleep with his arm wrapped around my waist.

I
woke
up to Nathan’s breath in my ear, his words whispering along my skin. “I need to get going.”

After opening my eyes, I looked to the clock. “It’s seven?”

“At night,” he confirmed. He shifted behind me before sliding off the bed and padding out of my bedroom. I watched his magnificent ass from bed until he disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to gather his clothes.

Standing up, I debated whether or not to throw on a t-shirt but decided against it, walking out into the living area and stretching my relaxed limbs. I caught him staring as I arched my back and smiled seductively. “Do you really have to go?” I felt a sudden, baffling sadness at the thought of him leaving, but pushed it back.

“Unfortunately, yes.” He started to button up his shirt before he realized there were buttons missing from when I’d ripped it open.

“Oops,” I said with a shrug. I walked into the kitchen, completely naked, and pulled two safety pins out of the drawer. “Here.” I pushed his hands away and began securing the openings of his shirt with my pins. “Sorry.” I gave him a sheepish grin.

Smiling, he held my face in his hands. “Me too.” He put his lips on my forehead for a second and pulled away. He tucked the ends of his shirt into his pants and then we stared at each other, as if he didn’t know how to end this. Was it an end? Or just a pause?

“So…” I began, not finishing my sentence.

“Let me give you my personal email address.”

I was stupidly giddy, even as the voice in my head muttered,
Not his phone number?

He scribbled it down on the paper I’d pushed at him and I took the moment to admire his long, thick fingers as they moved across the page. I had a very vivid thought of those fingers inside of me and wanted a repeat.

“Here.” He handed me the paper. “Alice Carroll can email me here.”

Alice Carroll, my fake email account. I knew he was telling me not to use my school account, much like I shouldn’t send to his work account.

“I’ll let her know,” I said, standing still. When he didn’t make a move to leave and just stood there staring, I blurted out, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I can order a pizza?” I couldn’t really afford to order a pizza, but if it meant I’d get a couple more hours with him, I was going to go for it.

“I wish I could. I have papers to grade from one of my other classes.” Even though he was shooting me down, he sounded sincere in his desire to stay, so I let it go, walking him to the door.

“Are you going to put on clothes?” he asked at the door.

I shrugged. “Are you going to stay?” I said it teasingly.

He smiled, that one small act transforming his face from sexy intense to stupidly beautiful. “No.”

I leaned against the wall next to the door. “I guess Alice Carroll will have to let you know later on, if clothes happen or not.”

I took delight in the way his throat moved in response to what I’d said. “I hope she does,” he said, his voice hushed.

Leaning in, he kissed me, running his fingers over my ribs. And then he left.

I tried to distract myself with a book, with cleaning, but barely an hour after he left, I booted up my computer and logged into my Alice Carroll account.

I
laughed
at myself for the brief message. His reply came shortly.

I
wasn’t surprised
by his reply, but it didn’t go exactly the direction I’d intended.

N
ext time
! We hadn’t discussed anything before he’d left my apartment, but I’d hoped this wasn’t a one-time deal. So, to have him suggest it set my worries at ease.

I
couldn’t help
the disappointment that wormed its way into my head. But he wasn’t blowing me off at least.

I
’d hoped
he’d find the humor in my response, and I wasn’t disappointed with his reply.

A
s if it
knew I was thinking about it, my ass settled more comfortably in my desk chair.

T
he rest
of the week was more emails. They were always more sexual immediately after class, as I’d spent the entire hour wound up tight, struggling to look at him as my teacher and not the man who’d just given me two outstanding orgasms.

S
miling
, I stripped down to nothing but my thong and the red high-heels. Standing with my back to my full-length mirror, I looked over my shoulder at my reflection and took a photo. It was a full back shot, from the heels he was cursing up to my long blonde locks hanging down my back. I attached it to my email and sent it along.

T
he comment caught
me off guard, but warmed me up inside of my cold apartment. I’d ignored Leo’s call earlier that day, choosing instead to delay the inevitable. And I was so very impatient to see Nathaniel again, outside of class.

The thought made me compose my next email.

A
t the bottom
of the email he’d included his cell number and a “Call me.”

Gnawing on my lip, I dialed his number.

“Adele.”

God, his voice warmed me through the freaking receiver. “Nathan.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk today. You seemed to want to chat with me at the end of class.”

After class, I’d taken longer than necessary to pack up my things, hoping that my delay would mean some one-on-one time with Nathan. But my plan had been thwarted by the nitwit Ashley, the girl who had taken up spending more and more time at Nathan’s desk at the end of class. She’d brought up her graded monologue, telling Nathan she didn’t understand his criticisms of her work.

Nathan had glanced up upon seeing me, an apology in his eyes, before turning back to repeat what I’d known he’d already written on her assignment.

“Chatting wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I told him. For some reason, talking on the phone with him made me anxious. Hearing his voice instead of reading his words was more intimate and, incredibly, more arousing.