Lying next to her, I look at the stars with her, and we remain silent.
Is she okay? Is she happy?Does she regret it?Because I sure as fuck don’t, not yet anyway.
“Grayson?”
I turn my head toward her. “Yeah?”
She hesitates. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”
A sarcastic laugh escapes me because damn. Emma still doesn’t realize how much she affects the people around her, and she definitely underestimates her sexual capabilities if she’s asking me that.
I turn her chin until her baby blue eyes meet mine. “It’s thehardest I’ve come since we dry humped in the bathroom, meaning it’s the hardest I’ve ever come.”
Her breath catches, and I can see the millions of thoughts flowing through her head.
What I would do to get into that pretty little stubborn mind.Or maybe I wouldn’t, maybe it would make both of us rethink all of this.
Emma’s eyes dart around, and she’s visibly overwhelmed by something, which makes me nervous.
Good God, we need to calm down. I give her a harsh kiss to stop her mind from imploding and pull her close until her head rests on my chest.
“I’m getting on the pill this weekend,” she says confidently, and I’m caught off guard by her quick decision. Although filling her up with my cum and leaving it there while she’s watching me give a lecture…yeah, that’s something I’d be up for. “Are you all set to go? You know, no STDs?”
“Way to kill the mood,” I joke, and huff out a pained laugh at her smack on my stomach. “I’m good to go.”
She nods against my chest. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I respond, wondering if she’s realized that saying a simple “okay” back-to-back has become our little thing. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but I surprisingly don’t mind it. It somehow feels like our way of saying “I like you” without actually saying it.
She probably hasn’t noticed and won’t until I decide how to handle this in the next couple of months.
Ten minutes later, I’m back inside her, this time she’s on her side, her back against my chest, her ass sticking out and looking as smackable as ever. We both come in unison, and this time, I shake just as much as she does.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
GRAYSON
Ican feel her eyes on me.
The entire time I’ve been walking around the kitchen, watching my students make escalivada and bombas, her eyes have been either on me or on her notebook. That would be normal on any other day, only I’m not speaking, just observing. It’s been hard to keep my focus on how my students are cleaning as they cook. If any of them cut themselves, and how they handled it if it wasn’t deep, how many mistakes they’ve made, and if they tried to fix them secretly by hiding them or, like one of my top students, dumping their entire dish and starting over, risking not having enough time to finish.
This has been the toughest class to observe because the blonde girl sitting in the corner has me remembering our little fuck fest from two days ago, and I can tell she’s thinking about it too, with the slight blush on her cheeks. Emma hasn’t texted me since then. I felt like a teen waiting by the phone for a call the past forty-eight hours, and now I’m waiting for the class to end to see if she’ll stay behind.
To do what? I’m not sure. And why didn’t I text her first? I’m not sure about that either. Not that I didn’t have anything to do,it’s been a busier week than usual, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have texted. She’s got my mind all scrambled.
What if she’s mad? Shit.
I’ll just apologize after class. If I’m lucky, maybe she was busy too.
Our eyes meet mine again, and a small smile tugs at her lips. Emma bites her pen and winks at me.
Fuuuuck. She’s not mad, but she is making me hard.
I look away and think about anything and everything else, so I don’t get a boner in front of my entire class.
We’re not even dating, but whatever it is that we are, whatever it is that I’m feeling, is fucking intoxicating. She’s someone who takes the thirty-one-year-old man in me—the one who’s been through two serious relationships, one ending in divorce—and makes me feel like an overactive hormonal boy.
I have moments of clarity when I think of how a woman like Emma deserves better—better than someone she can’t openly date, a guy who is emotionally available, a man her own age. But I’m too selfish and possessive to let this go. After Tuesday, it only made it that much harder.