3. Felicity
3
Felicity
Three Weeks Later
I wake up alone and heated, my hand finding its way between my legs even in my sleep as I seek release. Relief.
Anything to abate the newly renewed thirst in my body for a blue-eyed blonde rock god I’ll never see again.
For three weeks now, ever since that one night in the villa when I’d given into the desires I’ve kept locked up for the last several years, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the wild encounter. I’d never been able to let go with anyone else quite the same I had with Jonas. I’d never felt so sexy, so powerful, so incredibly alive as I had that night when I’d let go of my inhibitions and finally sought out the pleasures I desperately wanted to give and receive.
Jonas gave so beautifully.
Of his hard body. His skilled tongue. His roughened hands.
And after that, he’d flipped it all on me, wrenching control back and teaching me that it was okay to let go. I could, in fact, trust someone else with the exploration of my body and give them free rein to thoroughly use my body.
Until that moment with Jonas, I don’t know if I believed I’d want that again. But he’d proven me so deliciously wrong, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since.
My own touch has proven to be an ill substitute for the memory of his hands on mine, his salt on my tongue, his hoarse, dirty whispers along the shell of my ear or the curve of my shoulder.
God damn it.
Why hadn’t I thought to ask him where he lived? What the name of his cover band was? How could I maybe get in touch with him again? I’d been so focused on getting my fill of his firm body, so determined to figure out how many times he could rise to the occasion after I’d made him come in my mouth, on my body, inside me before he was spent.
I groan, kicking off my sheets as my alarm sounds and I rise to ready myself for the first day of the semester. It was better this way, I remind myself for the umpteenth time.
My first—and only—foray into hook-up sex had been a good one. Nothing like the horror stories I’d heard from a few of my friends. In fact, it was probably so hot because it was a one-time thing with a relative stranger, not the ho hum drum sex routine that all my relationships eventually faded into.
Sure, I considered calling my cousin and asking her for the band’s contact details. But what would I say? Hi, remember the older woman you’d met at that wedding three weeks ago? Want to get together again?
It reeked of desperation.
This was better.
This was one of those getting my groove back scenarios, and my confidence has soared since making that sexy, steamy memory with him.
One I’d apparently have to relive for the rest of my days in every one of my dreams.
* * *
The door to my office crashes open and Hannah McCowan, my friend and the Dean of Humanities, cranes her neck into my space as she wafts a hand in the air in front of her nose. “Smell that? The start of a new semester. Fresh blood and even fresher coffee.”
I glance up from my computer, unsurprised to find Hannah steamrolling into my office to demand a “walk and talk” catch-up whenever she needs a break. It’s become a tradition for her to start each term with a coffee chat.
“You’re late today.” I say, locking my screen and scooping up my shoulder bag. “Normally you’re here five minutes after eight.”
She rolls her eyes and brushes her bangs out of her hazel eyes. “I’m blaming my son. Joey’s finally coming back to finish up his degree this term—under threat of bodily harm from my wife, mind you—and she insisted that I swing by his apartment and make sure he was actually awake and coming to campus and not just skipping out on class like he’s done in the past.”
“Ah, right. He’s supposed to work with her at her company or something after graduation, right? Lucky kid, huh? Job already waiting for him.”
Hannah snorts. “Don’t start. It’s a source of never-ending arguments for them.”
“Well, I’ve got at least twenty minutes to cross campus, grab some coffee, and do a quick summer catch up before I find out exactly what this semester has in store for me.”
“Let’s do it.” She ushers me through the door and we head down the stairs together. “Ten bucks says you’ll get the same mix as always, just like I do. Tell me how your summer went. How was the dreaded wedding? Was it as cursed as you thought it was going to be?”
“Maybe not as cursed as I thought it was going to be.” I flash her a smile as we hurry down the steps past university students hurrying to their first class and confused first-year students trying to figure out where their class is.
“What? What does that mean? That’s almost as cryptic as the text messages you sent me the day after. Did something happen?”
I say nothing as we pass more students and emerge from the Humanities building onto the main Soltero Beach University campus. Sprawling buildings are interspersed between multi-level department buildings, allowing for a view of the distant mountains to the northeast and the expanse of the Pacific to the west. As we make our way toward the campus cafe, Pacific Perks, I continue.
“The wedding was fine. Everything went off without a hitch. I kept sane and my family mostly kept from saying anything too rude.”
“Okay, fine. That all sounds good. But it doesn’t explain… this.” Hannah gestures over my whole body and wiggles her eyebrows. “There’s something a little different in your vibe. An extra—wait a minute.” She stops short, gasping as her hand lashes out and grips my arm. “You got laid .”
Warmth climbs up my neck. “How can you tell?”
“Girl, how can I— hello . There is a sway in your hips, extra confidence in your stance, and if I’m not mistaken, that is actual color on your lips. Not just gloss.” Hannah smirks. “Besides, I know what a well-satisfied woman looks like and you, my friend, have the look of a satiated female. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” I chuckle when she sends me a look that screams told you so. “It was just a one-night thing.”
“One night? You?! ”
“I know. When have you ever known me to have a fling?”
“Abso-effing-lutely never.” Hannah’s hazel eyes are big and round as she taps her lips in thought. “Who was he? Another wedding guest?”
“He was part of the entertainment. A younger man with arresting eyes and a skilled tongue.” I blush as the memory of his touch, his kiss floods in alongside the reminder of his earnest eyes and the way his arms felt warm and strong and sure around me before he’d fallen asleep. “But he was also sweet. He seemed interested in getting to know me, but there wasn’t really time. And I was too caught up in being brave.”
“Being brave?”
“Yeah,” I say, tucking a lock of my dark hair behind my ear. “He had this… undeniable sex appeal. It had an effect on me. One I haven’t felt in a long time, where I felt powerful and sexy and in control. And he yielded to it—to me. In ways Nicholas never would’ve allowed.” The barista calls my name and I collect my steaming hot cup of coffee, then turn back to Hannah. “It’s like he’d awakened a part of me that had been lying dormant, just waiting for him—or someone like him—to come along and remind me that I deserved more than I got in my last relationship.”
Hannah’s eyebrows lift as she grabs her order and we exit the cafe. “You got all that from a one-night stand?”
I nod.
“Damn, must’ve been a hell of a night.”
“I’ll tell you something. He had stamina.”
“Oh god. I don’t need details, but multiples?”
“Multiples,” I confirm, lips twitching when she lets out a squeal on my behalf.
“The benefits of being young, dumb, and full of cum, I guess.” Then she raises her cup to me in mock salute. “Cheers to you, though, on cutting loose for once in your life. I remember those days well. My wife and I had some wild times before we locked it down and got married. Everyone deserves to have a wild era. For the looks of things, I think getting laid did you a world of good. Are you still seeing him?”
I shake my head. “Nah. It was just one night. I didn’t leave my contact info when I left.”
“That’s a shame. You could’ve been orgasming on the regular. Drunk on all that sexual power.”
“Probably for the best. He’s too young for me.”
“Pfft. Age is just a number. Just goes to show you that you’ve still got it.” Hannah licks the tip of her finger and lays it against her flank while making a sizzling noise.
I laugh again, waving in farewell before splitting off to hike the stairs up to the sixth floor. My first class would be filtering in any second now and I always liked to be early on the first day of a new term.
It gave me time to mentally prepare for the day, arrange my materials, ensure the equipment was in working order and I always got first look at which students were going to be my Early Birds, Latecomers, and Back Row Residents.
For ten minutes, I arrange everything just as I like it then I busy myself with writing my name and the expectations I’ve set for students to pass my class on the whiteboard behind me. Some of my favorite repeat students have come back for more of my courses, there are plenty of newcomers in the mix, and those hoping to add the course are standing along the edge of the classroom.
Then the campus bell tower chimes and I turn around to introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Felicity Navarro and I’ll be your professor this semester. We’ll be talking about the Popular American Novel this term. If you’re not already registered in my class and you’re hoping to add, can I ask that you vacate your seats and line up along the far wall there so those who are enrolled can have a seat?”
I sip my coffee as students shift to comply, but as they part, the door opens and shuts. In strolls a tall, toned masculine figure wearing a wide-brimmed fedora, a white T-shirt, and ripped black jeans.
Awareness and suspicion flicker through me as I watch the man move with lithe grace. But I can’t see his face as he asks after a vacated seat before sliding into it.
When he sits, his bare knee pokes through the hole in his jeans as my heart hammers in my chest when he reaches up to grip his hat.
Oh god. His hand.
It’s big and rough and adorned with rings—one of which is a skull. Silver studded cuffs are wrapped around his wrist, and my throat runs dry.
It can’t be. It just can’t be.
My fingers curl tightly around the warm coffee cup in my hand, then my breath catches when he looks up and all I see is a sea of blue eyes in a strikingly handsome face.
Jonas.
He’s here.
And he’s my newest student.