“Move over.”
The back of her hand pats the shoulder of my jacket. She removes her masculine wool blazer to reveal a nice full rack under a tight turtleneck. I scoot over a stool, giving her mine and ducking my head, avoiding staring at her clothed breasts.
A faint fragrance swirls into my nose when she sits beside me. The smell is refreshing and feminine as it engulfs my senses. It’s damn intoxicating. Another pair of sexy fucking boots adorn her calves, hooking onto the bottom rung of the stool.
My balls tingle, trying to harden my cock. I have to will it down because now is not the time to fuck this up by making a move on her. Especially with my hero, her father, sitting on the other side of the table.
“See the complex chemical structures and reaction pathways?”
She fingers them with her manicured nails, the color matching her lips, entrancing me. She doesn’t wait for my reply when she reads her father’s handwriting and translates each detail more intricate than the last.
My brain listens to his fascinating research, and my body reacts to his equally fascinating daughter. Suddenly, I never want this chemistry lesson to end. I enjoy all of it for two very different reasons.
“This is . . . phenomenal,” she murmurs, surprised by his advanced notes.
With those lips close to me, the view of her sexy body under the blazer, and the way the words flow with an accented cadence, it’s no use.
My cock is hard as carbon.
She continues, her family’s language flowing easily, while Dr. Rossi further explains his findings. I was initially only impressed by him because who wouldn’t be?
But I’m starting to be impressed with how they converse, with hands gesturing in the air as they validate each other’s points and the softening of her features.
It’s mesmerizing.
They finish each other’s sentences.
They are so in tune with mutual respect and care that it twists a knife into my heart, wanting what they have that I never did.
“Mr. Kaha—Diego?”
I shake away my drifting thoughts and tamper down my hard cock and aching chest to focus on what she last said. When I come up with nothing, not knowing who said what or which part they were debating, I throw out a random question.
“But aren’t you retired?”
My eyes move from his detailed notes, covering the pages and the sideways writing along the margins.
“Alas, yes.”
He taps the side of his temple.
“But the mind never retires.”
She pauses, waiting for him to finish, before flipping through the pages and going over in fine detail what everything means.
I’m in awe.
Not only with my idol’s brilliance but also with my professor. They share a joke, a chuckle bursting from her that is light and carefree.
I stare at her, unable to take my eyes off how her whole face changes into a younger, less stern version of an already stunning woman. There is an ease to her now that hasn’t been there all week or even half an hour ago.
“I’m afraid a chill has gotten into my bones. Isabella, would you, by chance, have a faculty lounge in the building where I could get a cup of coffee?”
She looks from him to me, unsure about something. Then, her gaze slides to the clock on the wall, ticking off the minutes.
“Maybe we should think about wrapping up. It’s getting dark outside and only going to get colder.”
He slowly nods, his features falling as the lively discussion about his works is forced to an end by her worries. I, for one, don’t want this to end either. I haven’t even gotten to ask my treasure trove of questions. Too content to watch them interact in their element to interrupt them. If she’s calling this short, I have to change her mind quickly.
