32. Nick #2
“Jesus, Nick,” she gasps as I thrust deep. “You’re going to make me come so hard.”
Fuck .
I tense against the rush of pleasure, needing to wait for her, but my hips speed up anyway, overcome by a force beyond my control.
I can’t believe I’m finally fucking Zinnia on my desk like this, that she’s as turned on by it as I am.
It makes me delirious, and I drive into her roughly, claiming her with each thrust, feeling her tighten around my cock.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she pants.
“That’s it.” I thrust deeper, loving the way she grips my thumb. “Come for me, honey. Come with my thumb in your ass.”
Then she stills, mouth falling open on a silent moan as her orgasm hits, and my release crashes in, pleasure spilling through me in a blinding flash. I crush her to the desk, throbbing inside her, coming harder than I even knew was possible.
“Fuck,” Zinnia murmurs after a beat. “Oh my God.”
I peel myself off her with a breathless laugh, searching for something to clean her up. There’s a napkin balled up in my wastepaper bin, and I make sure it’s clean before wiping between her thighs.
“Holy shit, Nick.” She straightens, tugging on her underwear with a grin. “I… I have no words.”
I duck my head with a bashful smile, cheeks warming as I tuck myself into my pants and push my glasses back up my nose. It’s one thing to talk to her like that— touch her like that—when she’s turned away from me, but now that she’s looking me in the eye, I feel that familiar wisp of discomfort.
Zinnia senses it, shaking her head as she ties the wrap on her dress. “No shame, remember? No pulling away.”
I soften, exhaling slowly, and pull her into my arms. “You’re right.” My eyes map her face, taking in the flush of satisfaction on her cheeks, and a grin slides onto my mouth. “I loved every second. I love being dirty with you.”
“Oof.” Her fingers tighten on my back. “Careful, or you’ll have to fuck me all over again.”
I chuckle, drawing away with great reluctance. As much as I’d love that, I have a class to prepare for. Grabbing a stack of Post-it notes, I scribble a few recommended texts for Zinnia and hand them to her. She takes them with a grin.
“Thanks. I can’t wait to dive into these.”
I scrub a hand over my beard to hide my smile. At how adorable she is, excited about her new class. I’ll never tire of seeing her like this.
She pauses, hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you at life drawing tonight?”
“Definitely,” I say, already imagining her naked again.
She peers carefully into the corridor, then slips outside.
I stare at the back of my closed door, heart drumming.
I’m hit by the thought that we’re doing it, we’re making it work with her back on campus.
I mean, we probably shouldn’t make a habit of having sex in my office, but otherwise, this could really work.
We could be together, for real.
Happiness balloons in my chest, and I grin to myself as I sink into my chair, phone ringing on my desk.
“Nicholas Sweetman,” I answer absently, still thinking about Zinnia.
“Dr. Sweetman, it’s Dr. Fuller.”
My stomach lurches. Shit, why is the department chair calling me? Is it possible… does she know about Zinnia and me? Did someone hear us?
“Dr. Fuller,” I say carefully. “How can I help you?”
“Dr. Webber had a family emergency this afternoon. She’ll be away for the remainder of the semester.” She pauses for a beat, then adds, “I need you to take over her class, Art, Patronage, and Power in Renaissance Italy , effective immediately.”
I blink, certain I’ve misheard her.
“You need me to…”
“Take over the class,” she repeats, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
My pulse crashes as I process this. I heard right. They want me to take over the patronage class.
Zinnia’s class.
“I…” I glance wildly around my office, as if it might provide some sort of excuse. Some way out of becoming Zinnia’s professor again.
“It’s short notice,” Dr. Fuller acknowledges, “but you’re the only other Renaissance specialist on faculty.”
She’s right. There’s no one else qualified to take the class. And with only two classes on my plate this semester, there’s no good reason to decline.
No way I could say, Actually, I’m sleeping with a student in that class, so could I not?
Jesus.
I tug my glasses off to drag a hand down my face, gut twisting like a rag. “Of course.” I have to force the words from my throat, landing bitter on my tongue.
“Excellent. I’ll have the syllabus and materials sent to you this afternoon.”
The line goes dead, but my hand continues to hold the phone in a death grip.
My shoulders burn, and I heave out a breath, trying to unclench, but it’s no use.
It was bad enough being with Zinnia after she’d been in my class, but this?
I can’t be with her while she’s actively my student.
It blurs so many ethical boundaries, I don’t know where to begin.
And yet… I can’t give her up.
I think of the way she took me so eagerly a few minutes ago. The way she stopped me from retreating into shame afterward. Every single time she’s seen me for who I really am, and never looked away.
Fuck. No. I can’t give her up.
Could I ask her to drop the class?
The thought vanishes as quickly as it appears, because I can’t do that, either. I could never ask her to do that, not after how excited she was. After she visited me, elated and bubbling over with joy. I could never take that away from her.
The realization settles into my gut like a rock. There’s no way around it. I’m going to be her professor again. This is the worst possible situation.
Actually… I catch myself, realizing that’s not true. The worst possible situation would be to lose Zinnia. I need her more than I need air. The more time I spend with her, the harder I fall, and the more I know one thing for certain.
She’s worth the risk.