The thought brings an honest to God smile to my mouth as I scrawl a note on a sheet of paper and drop it on her desk.
This conversation is far from over.
21
SUTTON
I stareat the note on my desk, heart slamming against my ribcage.
This conversation is far from over.
What is there to talk about? So we hooked up.Again. It means nothing. Changes nothing.
Just focus on the lecture and forget about him.
Easier said than done. I’ve never known anyone who takes up as much space as Parker. He sucks the air out of the room, replacing it with cool confidence, quick wit, and devilish smiles.
It’s…distracting.
I’m hyperaware of him as Mac lectures about the challenges of filming a live broadcast on location. Though I’m scrawling down notes by hand, his words go in one ear and out the other because I can’t stop thinking about the hard bodied athlete beside me. It doesn’t help that the guy is like a furnace. Although the air conditioner is going full blast, heat rolls off his body in waves. Which probably makes for great cuddling in the winter months, but is hugely disconcerting since I’m trying to concentrate.
And what the hell was that with Mac just now? Not in a million years did I expect Parker to take the blame for disrupting class.
He saved your ass.
Yeah, because he was trying to weasel his way into my good graces.
Or maybe he did it because he’s not a trash human being.
Anything is possible. For all I know, it’s part of his plan to earn my forgiveness.
Like that’s even possible.
Nope. I will not let DJ Parker charm his way into my life. It’s a surefire way to get my heart broken, and I don’t have time for heartache. Not with my schedule.
Parker’s knee brushes mine and the classroom fades away as electricity hums across my skin. I’m back at the church and Parker’s head is between my thighs as he devours my pussy, his thick fingers filling every inch of me as I spiral toward ecstasy, the knowledge that we’re exposed—that someone might find us at any second—heightening my pleasure.
Arousal floods my core, and I shift in my seat, trying to dampen my growing need.
Unfortunately, the only thing that gets damp is my panties.
Me cago en ná.
This is so not the time for X-rated fantasies.
I close my eyes and inhale slowly, pushing all thoughts of Parker from my mind.
If I want a shot at that internship, I need to ace this class, which won’t happen if I’m daydreaming about orgasms when I should be learning about live broadcasts.
The lecture is torture, and despite Parker’s promise to talk more at break, I’m counting down the minutes. I need to get out of this auditorium, if only to get a breath of fresh air that doesn’t smell like citrus and sandalwood.
“As you know,” Mac says, drawing my attention back to the front of the room. “The culmination of this class is a live broadcast, but I also require my students to demonstrate solid communication and teamwork through a partner project. This semester, you’ll be writing a term paper focused on one of the key aspects of production.”
He holds up his remote and the on-screen visual at the front of the room changes.
“Partners and topics have been assigned based on the seating chart.”
I scan the list and when I find my name, my stomach flips.
