What I do know is that here in this bedroom, he’s not my professor anymore. He’s just Rowan—warm, and real. The firelight plays over his skin, highlighting the dips and ridges of his muscles, the way his stomach tightens as he exhales. He climbs into the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight, and then his arms are around me, pulling me against him.
I go willingly, easily, like water flowing downstream.
His skin is deliciously warm, and I press closer without thinking, my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, maybe a little fast. I breathe him in, my fingers curling into the hard plane of his stomach.
The bond flares between us, soft but insistent, a pulse of heat that settles low in my belly, that makes my clit tingle and swell. His chest rises and falls against me, and I close my eyes for a second, savoring the feeling of his skin against mine.
I tilt my head up, and my lips accidentally graze the underside of his jaw. He groans softly and weaves a hand into my hair, fingers gently massaging my scalp. I press my thighstogether, my body on fire for him. My nipples are hard. I feel empty and achy. I want to rub myself all over him like a love starved cat.
“I’m too old for you,” he says as his hand strokes my back in long, slow sweeps. “I must be twenty years older than you.”
“How old are you?” I ask, curling into him, tracing the whorls in his chest hair.
“Forty-five.”
“You’re twenty-two years older than me,” I confirm. “I’m twenty-three.”
“Christ,” he whispers. “I could be your father.”
At that, I giggle softly. “I definitely do not see you as a father figure.”
“That’s a relief.” He keeps stroking my back, his strong fingers dragging over my skin and making sparks dance down my spine. I shiver, pressing closer, and his arms tighten around me.
For several blissful moments, we just lie together like that, the bond humming softly between us, skin tingling in all the places we’re touching. The fire crackles and pops and outside, it starts to rain softly.
It feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
“I thought I lost you today,” he says after a while, his voice rough with emotion. “Seeing you fall into that pit…” His voice cracks, just a little. “It broke something in me.”
I lift my head, my pulse hammering in my throat. His eyes are dark, almost black in the firelight, and the bond hums between us, pulling me closer like a tide. I can feel the weight of his words, the way they settle into my bones. They sound so earnest. So sincere that I don’t doubt he means them.
I’m not sure who moves first.
Our lips meet, soft at first, almost hesitant. But then his hand cups the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, and thekiss deepens. It’s slow, reverent, like he’s savouring me. I sigh into his mouth, my fingers curling into the hard muscle of his shoulder.
I part my lips, and his tongue slides against mine. A low sound rumbles in his chest, and his hand slides from my waist to my hip, then lower, gripping the curve of my ass through my panties. I arch into him, my body aching, and he groans into my mouth, his fingers flexing against me.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, the heat between us building, burning. His mouth is relentless, hungry, his teeth scraping against my lower lip before he soothes it with his tongue. I whimper, my hips rocking against him without thought, and he growls.
I can feel his need, his want, through the bond, and instinctively I know that my own is mirrored back to him. His cock is hard against my stomach, thick and heavy, and I want it—want him—more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
His hand settles on the clasp of my bra, and with a single flick, it opens. The straps slide down my arms, and then it’s gone, tossed somewhere onto the floor. The cool air hits my skin, making my nipples tighten even more, but then his hands are on me, warm and rough, cupping my breasts like they’re something precious.
“Fuck, Norah,” he growls, his voice rough. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous.” His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I gasp, so he does it again, and again. “Such pretty little nipples, sweetheart. So hard for me.”
I whimper, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He lowers his head and takes one nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, teasing, before he sucks, hard. I cry out, my hips jerking against him, the sensation shooting straight to my clit. He groans against my skin, the vibration making me shudder, and then he switches to the other breast, giving it thesame treatment. His teeth scrape lightly, and I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me.
“Rowan,” I pant, my voice breathless. “Please—“
“Tell me what you need, darling,” he whispers between long pulls on my nipple. I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s like I’m on fire. It’s like I’m dying of hunger.
“You,” I moan, shuddering as he licks along the underside of my breast. “I need you, Rowan.”
He slips his thigh between my legs and I grind on him as he worships my heavy, aching breasts.
My hips move on their own as I grind down against his thigh, desperate for friction. His skin is hot, the coarse hair of his leg catching against the thin fabric of my panties. I can feel how wet I am. I’m soaking through the cotton and probably leaving a damp patch on his skin. The bond shimmers brightly, amplifying every sensation until I’m trembling with need.
Rowan groans against my neck. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re dripping for me.” His fingers trail down my quavering stomach, until they brush over the waistband of my panties. I whine, arching into his touch, my hips writhing as I grind my pussy against his thigh.
