“We will, although this would be a huge help.” Giving my back to the two boys behind me, I offer him an innocent smile, and beg, “Please, Professor? I’d owe you one.” Casting my eyes downward, I see him tucking his hands into his pockets and shifting uncomfortably.
When I swivel my head upward, his pupils are fully dilated. “Careful, Ms. Haywood.”
“With you, I never can be.”
Grayson closes his eyes, as if he’s centering himself and trying not to get hard at me implying owing him a blow job. “Fine.”
“Great. First, I’m going to pat you with one of these.” I slip a blotting sheet from the open packet and move my hand to beginmy work, when I realize the problem with our height difference. Unlike the other days I’ve seen him, I’m wearing only three-inch heels because these boots go with my outfit, leaving me five-foot-three and him a foot taller. “Can you bend down a bit?”
Letting out a sigh, he leans over until I can reach and see his face properly. “This reminds me of when I’d let my sister put makeup on me when we were kids.”
Stopping all movement, I let out a snort. “No way. I can’t picture a tiny you letting her do that.”
Grayson nods and rolls his eyes. “It happened twice, and it was only because she wouldn’t stop crying,” he states.
“Please tell me that was on the record?” If he keeps sharing personal stories like this, the people reading my article will adore him. Although with the way things are going, they already will. These pictures will also work wonders—girls will be drooling over him. That sparks a flare of jealousy in me, but I mentally blow out the green flame. We haven’t talked about what’s going on between us yet, so it’s not fair for me to react this way.
His eyes narrow as I tap my brush on the edge of the powder case to remove the excess. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on. It gives me more insight into your and your sister’s relationship.” I pout.
A shadow of annoyance, tinged with defeat, crosses his face. “Fine, but you only say it was once, and I’m not giving you any more details on the record.”
Sweeping the brush on his nose, I smile widely and thank him. “Oh shoot, I almost got powder on your glasses.”
He moves to take them off before I swat his hand, and his eyebrows shoot up. “What was that for?
I lean forward. “Leave them on.”
Grayson’s low chuckle is deep, warm, and all-knowing. “Are they turning you on, Princess?” he says in a sensual tone that causes my core to tighten and my hand to move slowly acrosshis T-zone. There he goes with that nickname again. Is it because I act like a princess, or because, to him, I look like one?
Worried that my coworkers are watching us, I glance over my shoulder to find Ben focused on his laptop, explaining something to his assistant.
Grayson takes my chin and turns me back to him. “Do you want me to fuck you while I wear them? Do you want to pretend I’m your professor? Is that your fantasy?” His eyes roam and lazily appraise me, focusing on my breasts, which look larger than usual due to the push-up bra I decided to wear. “That tight plaid skirt is killing me, Emma.”
My body suddenly feels heavy and warm, but still, I attempt to keep a clear head, as difficult as that may be with him talking dirty to me in public.What is it with us and public settings?
“Amelia told me she thinks I’d make a great editor and that I should run for the position at the end of the semester,” I blurt out. “Although features would be my first choice, it’s a great opportunity.”
“Emma, that’s great?—”
“If I do well the rest of the semester…” I let that hang in the air.
I want Grayson. My body craves him, but I won’t continue this if he keeps making it obvious that we’re more than just a professor and student. This is me taking a risk on something that doesn’t happen very often.
Understanding clouds his face. “I was offered to teach another course and an extra lab next semester.”
I drop my hand. “Grayson, congrats—” I pause, and we both stand still, taking it all in. Three minutes ago, he wanted to fuck me, three days ago, he kissed me as if his life depended on it, and last week, he took the risk we’d both been wanting to. Now, here we are, facing reality. “I did some research on the rules of a professor and student having a non-professional relationship at Driscoll…”
He lets out a short laugh. “Of course you did.”
“And…” I continue, annoyed, “when it comes to the article, things aren’t clear, but since I’m not your student, neither of us would be punished unless we don’t let someone on the university board know.” Grayson stares at me, not a single lick of surprise on his face. It doesn’t shock me that he might’ve already known, but why not tell me? “Maybe we can be cautious now, and in January, we can go public the proper way.”
I stand there, feeling as though I’m going to throw up, waiting for his response.
“Go public with what, exactly?” Grayson asks.
Right, we haven’t spoken about what we want yet.
