He groans and kisses me, then his hand covers mine, guiding my movements, showing me how he likes to be touched. His eyes are locked on mine, the red flames burning brighter now, and the intimacy of the moment is almost overwhelming.
“If you keep doing that,” he warns after a few minutes, “this is going to end embarrassingly fast.”
“I don’t care.”
Before he can argue any more, I bend over and wrap my lips around the head of his cock. The sound he makes is so raw, so broken, it sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
“Isadora—fuck?—”
I take him deeper, following his guidance, watching his face as I learn what gives him pleasure. His hands fist in my hair, and I can feel his control slipping.
“I’m going to?—”
I hum approvingly and then he’s coming with a shout, his body tensing above me. He tastes as smoky and spicy as he smells and I swallow him down, thrilled by his reaction. When I pull back, he’s staring at me like I’ve performed some kind of miracle. He pulls me up into his arms, kissing me deeply, and I can feel him smiling against my lips.
“That,” he says when he finally lets me breathe, “was possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of things.”
We stay like that for a while, tangled together on my couch, neither of us speaking. His fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, and I trail my hands over his back, learning the shape of him in this new context. Eventually, he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me.
“What are you thinking?”
“That I should probably be freaking out.”
“But you’re not.”
“No.” I reach up to touch his face, watching his eyes close as I run my thumb across his cheekbone. “I think I’ve wanted that since you waltzed into my studio with your terrible technique and your ridiculous charm and proceeded to turn my entire life upside down.” I trace the line of his jaw. “You’re impossible, you know that? Completely impossible.”
“And yet you’re here.”
“And yet I’m here.”
He kisses me again—soft and sweet and achingly tender.
“Stay here with me,” he murmurs. “Tonight. Just... stay.”
“My cottage is only two blocks away.”
“I know. But I don’t want to let you go.” His arms tighten around me. “Not yet.”
I think about all the reasons I should say no. The boundaries I should maintain. The careful distance I’ve always kept between myself and everyone else. But then I think about today. About how he showed up at dawn, handled my crisis, danced with a shy little boy, and looked at me like I was worth everything.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His smile is sunrise breaking through storm clouds.
We rearrange ourselves on the narrow couch—him on his back, me tucked against his side, my head on his chest. It’s not comfortable exactly, but with his arms around me and his heartbeat steady under my ear, it feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“The floor is still wet,” I murmur.
“Mmm.”
“And I have three classes to reschedule.”
“Tomorrow.”
