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“Really?”

“I’ve been dreaming of fucking the mascot for ages.”

“Really?” he said again, but this time his voice was tight. Like he was seconds away from losing control.

I nodded. “Right on that desk.” I pointed behind him. I’d cleared it off earlier so there’d be plenty of room.

He didn’t turn. “We barely know each other.”

“I know everything I need to know.” I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “And if you’re not fucking me on that desk in ten seconds I’m going to lose my mind.”

He stayed completely still. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“It’s almost midnight. I’m only hungry for one thing.” My eyes trailed down his feathery torso. I reached out and pressed my palm against the front of him. And I’d been wrong at the game. You could feel him beneath all this thick fabric. And he was hard.

Mr. Halifax groaned. But then he shook his head and stepped back. He cursed under his breath. “We really need to talk first.”

I shook my head. Right here, right now, I wasn’t his student. And he wasn’t my teacher. I wanted to be more than that. I needed for us to be more than that. So I was going to make him get lost in this moment too. “Tonight all that matters is that I’m Eve.” I put my hand on his chest. “And you’re my Adam.” My very feathery Adam.

I heard him swallow hard. And I could picture his Adam’s apple rising and falling like it always did when he looked at me in class. But he still didn’t move.

“My Christmas wish wasn’t really for you to just show up. It was for you to take me on that desk just like I know you’ve been dying to...”

Something inside him finally snapped. He grabbed me around the waist and started to carry me toward the desk. But we didn’t quite make it. He tripped on something and then slammed my back against the wall.

“God,” I moaned.

“I thought my name was Adam in this scenario,” he said as he pressed himself against me through his costume.

It felt like I’d been waiting my whole life for this moment. Well, at least for the past two years when he’d walked into my life. I thought I’d be nervous. But all I felt was this aching need. “Please,” I begged.

“I like when you beg me,” he whispered.

He was just as naughty as I’d hoped he’d be.

“Please,” I said again. “I want to feel you.”

His feathered fingers dipped beneath the sides of my thong.

I unwound my legs from his waist so he could get it off me.

He slowly lowered it down my legs, his feathers leaving a trail of goosebumps.

I’d never be able to see feathers again without feeling like I was about to combust.

His feathers tickled my skin as his fingers wandered back up my thigh. And then he traced one feathered finger against my wetness. So softly that he was barely touching me.

I arched into his hand.

“Can I at least take off these gloves?” he asked. “Because I want to feel you too.”

I didn’t realize that they were just gloves. “Yes.” I grabbed one and pulled it off.

He chucked the other behind him and then his fingers returned to where they had been a moment before. He gently traced my wetness.

I moaned.

“So fucking wet.”