23. 23
23
Dexter
I t’s not the worst thing I’ve done, but it’s probably a bad idea. Still, I’ve made the decision and now I have to stick with it.
And I really want to see Tilly again.
I pick a small pub near Tilly’s house that we both know. “Drinks,” I say. “And we’ll see how it goes.”
I already know I’ll want to do more than just share a drink with her, but I’m not about to scare her.
We agree on seven tonight, and then I watch her walk away.
I’ve had one serious relationship with a woman who I didn’t meet in a classroom.
I met Anya at a university party. She was pre-med and didn’t understand my love of words. I didn’t understand how she liked to cut things open. But she had a self-confidence that was a turn-on, plus she smelled amazing and kissed me like no one ever had before.
The sex was amazing, and for eight months it overshadowed the little we had in common.
My first date with her was the only time I’ve felt this nervous.
I’m early to meet Tilly—twenty minutes early because I suspect Tilly is also the type to be early to things, and I hate the thought of her sitting along at a table waiting for me.
I’m also afraid if I’m late, she won’t wait around.
We picked a pub closer to her place and nowhere near the university. The last thing I want is for one of my students to wander in and see me with Tilly.
We agreed to one drink, and then we’d see what happened.
If someone sees us together, it can be easily explained, unless someone picks up on my reaction to Tilly. My constant need to be close, to touch her. Being in my office was horrible—all I wanted was to throw her down on my desk, on top of the papers and books, and fuck her senseless.
I want to do other things to her as well, but spreading her out on my desk, legs wide, me standing between them, was all I could think about at the moment. It was everything I could do to keep the conversation going.
I’m glad she didn’t show up to my office wearing the dress she had on in class or I wouldn’t have been able to bear it.
And I can bear it. I have the willpower to wait for consent, to hold off on making a move until I know it’s going to be reciprocated. But once I know for sure it is—
That’s why I’ve slept with three of my students. Yes, there have been more, but those three are the most important ones. My willpower can only last so long. When I know a woman wants me as much as I want her, I don’t want to wait.
I’m going to have to wait with Tilly because I don’t know what she wants. I think one thing and then remember that she didn’t bother to text me back after some really amazing sex.
Maybe she’s not interested.
I got one thing right about Tilly—she arrives at five to seven. She likes being early.
I watch the hostess lead her across the floor to where I wait in a booth. I see the moment she catches sight of me sitting there, the way her face lights up in a smile.
That really gives me a sign like she’s interested. Almost as much as I am.
She’s changed out of the jeans and pink shirt into a dress; this one is green and does amazing things to her eyes, turning the blue into more of a turquoise, like the shade of the ocean.
The deep V neckline also does amazing things to her body. I can’t help that my gaze slides right down that V, and my hands want to follow.
I want to worship those breasts with my hands and my mouth. I didn’t get enough of her the other night.
There’s no way I’m going to be satisfied with just one drink. How could I have ever thought another chance with Tilly was a bad idea?
Because it is a bad idea. As beautiful as Tilly is, she is still one of my students.
This is a very bad idea.
But I can’t help but smile as she approaches, sliding out of the booth to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
I want to smell her as a well. Creepy, maybe, but… cookies.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
We both sit down, the table a looming obstacle between us. There’s an uneasy silence as we stare at each other. Is she thinking the same thing I am?
“I don’t know how to do this,” she confesses with a nervous laugh.
Apparently, she is not thinking the same thing I am. “Let’s start with that, then,” I decide. “Why doesn’t a woman as beautiful and sexy know what to do on a first date?”
“This really isn’t a normal first date,” she counters, fidgeting with the cutlery rolled up in a paper napkin. “I mean, we… you know.”
Yeah. I do know. “We did.” I nod, and try not to smile like, you know, was the best thing ever.
“And I’m in your class. I’m your student.”
That sits much heavier, falling right in the middle of the table and spreading like someone dropped a glass of water and it’s dripping onto both our laps. Tilly’s words do the same thing as a glass of water—my cock that hardened as soon as I kissed her cheek and that one little word makes it all go away.
“It’s not the best situation,” I admit reluctantly.
“Then why are we here?”
I don’t know what to say to that without being honest. Fully transparent. I should tell her about my past, what’s at stake for me if it’s discovered that I’m dating one of my students.
But I can’t.
Because what I know about Tilly suggests that if I tell her anything, she’s going to walk out of here without a backward glance, and I’ll never get another chance.
I want another chance. I want it so badly. I want the feel of Tilly in my arms again, but I also want more time to know her. To find out what’s behind the sweet smile. To discover who hurt her and why.
And protect her, so it will never happen again.
I’m actually shocked by the protectiveness that surges up. So I tell her the truth, but not all of it. “Because I can’t stay away.”
“From… me?”
Like it’s the most insane idea.
“Yes, Tilly, from you.” I reach for her hand, not wanting to wait another minute to touch her. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want my hands on you again. I want my mouth. I see you in class and I want to know why you’re there, how you got to that lecture hall with me. I want to know everything. I can’t stay away.”
“Dexter…”
I trace circles on her hand with my thumb. “That’s what you’re in for if you stay for a drink. I’m interested, Tilly. Intrigued. Fascinated, even. I’m going to draw the line at obsessed, but I can’t promise to stop at that if I ever get to be inside you again. I want that.”
I smile ruefully, worried that I’ve gone too far.
Tilly stares at our hands. “I… want that too,” she says in a hesitant voice. “I’m interested, Dexter, only I don’t know…”
“What don’t you know?”
She meets my gaze and I see the want in her eyes.
I also see the wariness.
And that, surprisingly, is why I want to try with Tilly. Because the other girls—women—that let in my life showed no restraint. They were in it for the excitement. The adventure. There was no holding back with them.
Tilly might be holding back because I’m her professor, but there are other reasons there as well, and I want to know them. She’s a mystery that I need to solve.
“I’m a student,” she says reluctantly. “And you’re my professor.”
“I won’t be forever.”
Hope ignites in her eyes. “What if we can keep it between us?” I offer. “Keep it secret. No one needs to know.”
“How is that possible? How can I sit in your class and not want—” She stops herself before she can say anything more.
“You can want,” I tell her. “ I will want, regardless of what happens here tonight. I’m just suggesting not telling anyone about it. And pretending we don’t want.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” she admits. “I don’t like secrets. My ex-husband kept secrets.”
“This isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t it? He kept his mistress a secret for three years. How is this any different?”
I’m losing her. I can see it in her face, from the way she draws her hand out of my grasp. “It would only be until the end of the semester,” I offer. “And we don’t have to keep anything quiet in public—just not around the school. I don’t want to keep you a secret.”
“What are you asking for, Dexter?” She gives a nervous laugh. “I told you I don’t know how to do this.”
“When was the last time you went on a date?” I ask her.
“About twenty years ago.”
I catch my breath. She really means that she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Her not texting me wasn’t a calculated move, but there must have been reasons.
“I think we had a connection,” I say quietly. “Have one. That doesn’t happen often for me.”
“It’s never happened to me because I’ve never gone on a date since my husband. Ex-husband. Carlos is very much my ex-husband.”
“He’s an idiot for letting you go.”
“You don’t even know him,” Tilly chides. “Or me.”
“I know you smell amazing, like cookies. And you have the sweetest smile, even when you’re asleep. I know the perfect way your ass fits into my hands and the little whimper you make just before you come.”
I need another metaphorical glass of water poured on my cock because it’s hard enough to raise the table.
Tilly’s face flushes, but she smiles. “You’re only the third man to hear that,” she whispers.
I want to be the last.
But I don’t say that, because it’s too much. I don’t even know if I mean it. But—yeah. It sounds pretty good in my head.
“I’m forty-five years old and I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says. “You should know that upfront.”
“I wouldn’t care if you were sixty-five.”
She looks at me wryly. “Yes, you would. How old are you?”
“Thirty-six, but I can make it forty-six if it’ll make you feel better.”
She smiles. “I’m nine years older than you.” She pauses, her face flushed like her age embarrasses her. “I thought I should get that out in the open.”
“Ok.”
“Just… ok?”
“It’s not a deal-breaker for me.”
“What kind of deal are we talking about?”
“The kind where we get to know each other. We have a drink and see where we want it to go.”
“If we want it to go to my apartment, you mean?”
I laugh with surprise. “You said that, not me.”
She smiles with satisfaction. “I thought I’d get that out in the open, too.”
“I’d like nothing more than to take this back to your apartment,” I admit. Or back to mine. Or even finding a clean bathroom stall right here. “But let’s start with a drink.”