Chapter 20
Adeep throb ran through Taylor’s inner thighs when she shifted, the kind of heavy muscle fatigue that usually took hours of gigging to carve into her bones.
Morning light sliced through the curtains, casting pale amber stripes across the dark hardwood floor.
Saturday. Her lower back burned, a dull, bruised heat lingering right where Charlotte’s hands had clamped down to hold her still.
She turned her head slowly, her shoulders bracing for the hollow chill of an empty sheet.
But Charlotte hadn’t run.
Blonde waves spilled across the dark pillowcase, catching the hazy morning sun.
Charlotte lay on her side, one slender arm tucked near her chin, her mouth relaxed.
A faint rose flush painted the skin below her jaw where Taylor had bitten down, a mark that would hopefully fade before Monday’s lecture.
Taylor stayed frozen. The wet, frantic drag of Charlotte’s mouth against her stomach flared in her belly, a remembered slickness that made her thighs tighten.
The sharp rasp of Charlotte’s voice demanding total surrender pressed against her throat, and her hips gave a small, involuntary shift against the mattress.
The terrifying, exhilarating way Charlotte had taken control flared through her again—flipping her onto her stomach, fucking her until she came so hard. The memory hit her again, sending a sudden wave of heat straight to the slick, sensitive skin between her legs.
Then the familiar cold knot tightened in Taylor’s gut.
It took three seconds for the stark reality of daylight to scrub the heat away.
Her professor was sleeping in her bed. The woman whose red pen marked Taylor’s essays, who had built a twenty-year career out of boundaries and logic.
As soon as Charlotte opened those eyes, the wall would slide right back into place.
Taylor could practically hear the rehearsed script warming up in Charlotte’s throat.
Last night was a mistake. It can’t happen again.
A soft breath parted Charlotte’s lips. She shifted under the covers, her shoulders flexing as she rolled onto her back.
The sheet slid down, exposing the pale curve of her ribs and the dark smudges lingering over her collarbone.
Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, before focusing slowly on Taylor’s face.
“Good morning,” Taylor said, her throat raspy from the night before.
“Morning,” Charlotte murmured, her voice low and thick with sleep.
Taylor pushed herself up to a sitting position, leaning her bare back against the headboard and dragging the sheet to her waist. Charlotte half sat up beside her, propping her upper body on an elbow as she ran a hand through her disheveled blond hair.
Taylor tried not to stare, but the effort was useless. Charlotte looked stunning in the dim morning light. The polished makeup from last night had faded away completely, her cheeks flushed, her soft lips slightly swollen from hours of kissing.
Charlotte looked over at her, her gaze searching Taylor’s face. “Are you surprised to still see me here?”
Taylor picked up on the sharp strain in Charlotte’s voice immediately, the subtle drag of guilt and shame pulling at the corners of her mouth.
“Honestly? Yes,” Taylor said.
Charlotte nodded, pressing her lips together into a firm line as she looked down at the sheets. “I uh… I don’t know where we go from here.”
Taylor held her breath, her stomach knotting tightly as she nervously waited for Charlotte to continue. The quiet in the room felt heavy, stretching her nerves thin while she prepared herself for the worst.
Charlotte took a slow breath, letting her hand drop to the mattress between them.
“Whatever this thing is between us… It’s real.
” She licked her lips slowly as she gathered her thoughts.
“I don’t think I’m capable of walking away from you again.
I’m…” She sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.
“But I’m still your professor, and I can’t believe I’m going to even say this out loud but… I want to keep seeing you.”
Taylor stared at her, her pulse thumping wildly in her throat.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but underneath the sudden burst of hope, she caught the raw pain in Charlotte’s voice—the agonizing fear of getting caught, of throwing away a twenty-year career for a student in her upper-level seminar.
“I want that too,” Taylor said, shifting toward her. “And I think… I think we can be careful. No one will know. And by the time the summer comes, I won’t be your student anymore.”
Charlotte stared at her, the heavy strain in her jaw releasing all at once.
The thick air of anxiety evaporated, replaced by a sudden, undeniable heat.
Charlotte didn’t pull back or try to cover herself with the sheet.
Instead, she shifted closer, her bare knee sliding between Taylor’s thighs, the friction of her soft skin against Taylor’s aching nerve endings feeling like a live wire sparking underwater.
Charlotte reached out, her fingers cupping Taylor’s jaw, her thumb tracing the curve of Taylor’s bottom lip with deliberate slowness. There was no attempt to hide the desire in her face.
“You’re going to make this entire semester completely impossible,” Charlotte whispered, her eyes dark with an unhidden heat that made Taylor’s core throb.
She leaned in, pressing her mouth to Taylor’s in a kiss that wasn’t cautious or guarded, as her hand trailed down Taylor’s stomach to grip her hip, pulling Taylor’s skin flush against her own.