That bullshit aside, I thought all weekend about what Dom said, going through several different plans until I settled on apologizing to her for being disengaged and uninterested in her lectures. I figured she could perceive it as another form of disrespect. I didn’t want that, especially when I was trying to manage my hard dick the entire time.
But everything took a drastic and unpredictable turn in my favor. A serendipitous result, as we say in chemistry. Holding her in my arms, her body pressed against mine, those tits smashed against my chest . . .
Kokami.
I was reciting the periodic table of elements in my fucking head to distract me from getting a boner. The feel of her silky hair in my hands and the crown of her head tucked against my shoulder were testing my will.
How I managed to keep talking to her, comforting her, without making a move, is a fucking miracle. The battle of will and opportunity quickly became too great until they finally called her name. I am relieved and disappointed when she stepped behind the door, leaving me in a cloud of floral-perfumed intoxication and confusion.
My mind is spinning.
One minute, she’s scowling at me.
Next, she’s embracing me.
Clutching the edges of my jacket like a damn lifeline. Shit has my head all fucked up. Pulling out my phone, I call the one friend who can help me with this situation.
Dominic.
He picks up on the second ring, his voice clipped and mildly annoyed.
“What?”
“I’m losing my fucking mind,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “You busy?”
He exhales heavily, probably pissed that I’ve interrupted whatever evening activities he has going.
“Define busy.”
“Professor Rossi.” I lower my voice so the receptionist doesn’t hear. “It’s bad, Dom. Like, really bad.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end before he groans.
“What did you do now?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I snap, though my tone is more defensive than I’d like. “She hugged me.”
“She hugged you?”
That gets his attention.
“Yeah, man.”
Closing my eyes and replaying the moment. The feel of her everywhere against me, the smoldering look when she gazed up at me. It felt so fucking right that my heart was beating a mile a minute.
“Like, full-on, arms wrapped around me, head on my chest. She was upset, and I didn’t know what to do. But she started it, and I?—”
“So, you hugged her back,” he finishes, his tone sharp and accusatory. “You’re an idiot, Diego.”
“Why the fuck am I an idiot?” I shoot back, sitting up straight. “I was being helpful. She’s dealing with her dad being hurt. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there?”
“You were supposed to keep your hands to yourself. She’s your professor. There’s a line, and you’re practically pole-vaulting over it,” he says flatly as if he’s never done some dumb shit before and needed advice. On second thought, I realize he has never called me for advice, so maybe not.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head.
“It’s not like that, man. She?—”
“She what? Needed comfort? You already said that.”
