Her eyes continued to flare and burn into mine, and I felt all sorts of shit.
Empathy, freedom, lust.
I was a jumbled, mixed-up bag of emotions, and then my lips met hers. Mine a bit rough, hers soft and supple. I waited for a slap or her body to pull back, but neither came. I nudged her legs apart with my knee and wrestled my way between her thighs, ran my hand over the back of her hair, and held tight to her neck. She breathed out her own flavor mixed with mint, and my tongue sought entrance.
“Aiken,” she whispered, but didn’t stop kissing me back.
“You taste…oh God, Claire.”
“Aiken, please…”
“Please what?”
Our lips kissed, mumbled one another’s names against one another, and locked like two savages again.
She finally pulled back. “We have to stop.”
“I don’t want to, but I will.”
My mouth let go and pulled away, disgruntled with me.
My forehead met hers as her name came out of my mouth. “Claire…”
“What are we doing? What do you do? Student? What? Tell me.” She held her gaze on the floor, rapid-firing the questions.
My voice croaked, “Not a student. I did school in Indiana, a trade school on computer programming. I’m here on my own. Grown-ass man and all that. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing, what I want. I feel something deep with you…it’s buried in my gut, pulling me to you. Some raw need to be with you. You must sense it?”
Pulling her forehead from mine, she stared at me.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty, for Christ’s sake. Like I said, a grown-ass man, Claire.”
“This is crazy.” She hopped off the stool and side-stepped around me. “Thanks for checking on me, but you have to go—I’m a college professor. This isn’t right even if you’re not a student.”
Halfway out the back door, I turned. “What isn’t right? Moving on? I’d even settle for second place with a woman like you. Is having a life so fucking bad, Claire?”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
