6. Ivy
Chapter 6
Ivy
M y first week of school is almost over, and it’s been two full weeks since I moved away from home. Mom will be pleased I’ve met some really nice people, joined a study group, started planning my assignments for the next few weeks, and already finished my first one. So far, everything about the city and college has lived up to my expectations.
Maybe more.
I wasn’t prepared for Harrison or the feelings he’s evoked in me. I haven’t been able to think of much else, so I’m surprised at how much I’ve actually accomplished. Maybe I’m being a silly young girl. But around him, I want to be the woman I’ve become. And the more I fixate on it, the more determined I become.
During the last few nights, I went back and forth, replaying what happened in Harrison’s office. I had no other classes with him until today, so I’ve had lots of time to dig deep and find the big girl who decided to leave the comfort of Ohio all on her own. After tossing and turning, I awoke this morning with the courage to be bold and unafraid. I decided to ask Harrison if he’d like to see a movie or maybe grab a coffee. We will be working together for months; it makes sense to become friends, right? That seems appropriate enough. And everyone could use a good friend.
But as the day wore on, my courage slowly drained away. When I walk into the lecture room and stroll toward the front row, I’ve chewed off every bit of gloss I applied, and my stomach churns. While my peers banter back and forth with Harrison, I draw squiggles in my notebook instead of taking notes.
I also do something I’ve never done before. I mentally undress him. Today, he’s wearing an ice-blue, soft-looking sweater over the same dark jeans he wore Monday. I start to wonder, what does he look like with no shirt? Does he have a six-pack? Is his chest sprinkled with dark hair like his arms, or is it bare? My mouth waters at the thought of licking up the center of his torso. And considering I’ve never even thought of that particular chore, I’m curious why it’s coming to mind so quickly, along with many others.
His hair is long enough to curl the tiniest bit at his nape, and it currently holds my attention while the scent of chalk dust tickles my nose. I love that he prefers the chalk board to the while board. He’s a bit of a contradiction. Each time he strolls past me—and he does it often—I catch a whiff of his aftershave—something warm and woodsy. I want to curl into the protective circle of his arms and tuck my nose into the curve of his neck.
“Class, remember to review chapters five through seven this weekend and we’ll discuss them on Monday.”Harrison’s smooth voice breaks into my daydreaming.
I wait until the room is half empty, remaining in my seat while slowly packing my things. I’m dragging it out, I know, but I can’t stop staring at his ass and wondering if it’s as tight looking naked.
“Is everything okay, Ivy?”Harrison’s golden-brown eyes lock onto mine as he gives me his full attention.
“Fine,”I squeak. “I’m fine, just, you know, dissecting JohnDryden’s‘An Essay of Dramatic Poesy.’”A nervous laugh escapes, sounding more like a hiccup than anything remotely charming.
“Of course,”he chuckles, and the warmth in his smile unravels me. “Could you stay back for a moment? There are some assignments I’d like you to look over for one of my other classes, and I want to discuss my expectations for them.”
“Absolutely,”I reply, thinking this may be the perfect opportunity to try my hand at seduction. But as the last student walks through that door at the back of the room, my stomach somersaults.
“Here are the papers.”He hands me a stack, and our fingers touch—a jolt zings up my arm. “I like to take it easy on the first assignment, give everyone a chance to see what they’re capable of before I buckle down. So be generous where possible.”
“Generous?” I echo dumbly.
“Is that a problem?”He arches an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze.
“Uh, no, no problem...”I trail off.
“Great,”he smiles, and I notice the dimple on his right cheek, giving him a youthful appearance. He slips on his jacket. “Thank you, Ivy. I’ll see you Monday.”
My head jerks up. “Wait, you’re leaving?”The words tumble out before I can stop them.
“Plans this evening,”he says, and my gut knots with unfamiliar jealousy as I wonder what or who those plans involve.
“Right, of course.”I force a smile that feels more like a grimace as I watch him stride out, each step a hammer to my little fantasy.
So much for bravery and seduction.
The late afternoon light filtering through the windows into the classroom bleeds into twilight. I’m only halfway through the papers. My brain is tired. The only sounds are my pen scratching and the distant hum of the janitor’s floor cleaner out in the hallway.
Then, the door creaks open.
I jump at the intrusion.
Harrison strides in. At first, he doesn’t spot me; he’s got his phone in his hand, and he’s looking down instead of up and in the direction he’s walking. His hair is tousled, and there’s a shadow of stubble on his jaw, darker than it seemed earlier, though it may be the lighting in the room that’s making him look rugged and sexy. He’s lost the sweater, and he’s wearing a white cotton shirt under the leather jacket now.
Casual Harrison is a game-changer.
When I cough, he pauses, and his head pops up, his gaze snapping over to me.
“Ivy? Why are you still here?”He frowns. “It’s getting late.”
“Lost track of time.”I hold up the stack of papers as proof.
“You know you can do that at home.”His eyes slowly roam over me, and something unspoken crackles in the air.
“I’m almost done.”I try to sound not entirely flustered by the sight of him so casual, so real. So damn sexy.
“You shouldn’t be here this late, Ivy.”He starts moving again, this time toward me. “New York is like any big city after dark, especially for young women.”
I’ve never lived in a big city, so I have no concept of the threat. “I, um, hadn’t thought about that.”I am now, though, and I still have a train ride home.
“Didn’t you say you live in the Bronx?”
I nod as my heart thunders in my chest. But it’s not from fear of taking the train after dark. Harrison is within touching distance. If I reach out, I could run my fingers down his torso and feel those muscles beneath the cotton.
“How are you getting home?”
“Train.”
“It’s not safe.”
I rise from my seat. “I’m not scared.”My voice is barely above a whisper, and it wavers slightly as I step closer and tilt my head back to look up at him through the fringe of my lashes. This close I notice our height difference. It’s not too much, a few inches. Enough that he would have to bend his head to kiss me. “You could come with me. Make sure I get there safely.”
OMG, where in the world did that sultry boldness come from?
His sharp gaze searches mine. “Ivy,”he breathes out, his voice low and thick, with I think, a hint of warning—or is it desire? I can pretend it’s desire, right? “What are you doing? This isn’t… If we get caught?—”
“We won’t,”I rush to interrupt as I eliminate the distance until I’m standing a scant inch from him, my chest rising and falling with each breath as I inhale his warm male scent, and it does weird things to my body again, like the first day. Does he notice?
“We can’t.”
“Why not? I’m an adult. And I want to.” Is this all me? My imagination?
“Are you sure?”
And that’s the big scary question.
His stare is heavy with implications I’m ready to explore. I think we’re on the same page. I think he’s thinking what I am. I want this. All of it. I probably shouldn’t, but I do. I’ve never felt like this before. I certainly never imagined my first time for anything being with my professor.
But we can start with a kiss.
I reach out and finger the hem of his shirt—a daring move that surprises me and risks being forever ashamed of my actions if I’m wrong. “I came to New York to learn. I want you to teach me, Harrison.”
His breath hitches, and I know I’ve crossed a line. But it’s too late to go back now. I wait to see if he’s going to cross it with me.
The air between us is heavy with anticipation.
“Be sure about this, Ivy,”he warns, his voice a velvet caress against the charged silence. The hair on my arms stands, and my core contracts with eagerness.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,”I confess, my voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. “All I know is... I want to do it with you.”
My declaration hangs in the air like the faintest perfume. And then, emboldened by a courage I didn’t know I possessed, I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him, my lips barely skimming his. It’s a whisper of a touch, a tentative question, waiting for his answer.
It takes a moment before I hear him moan, almost like he’s in pain, and then his hands find my waist, and he pulls me flush against him. His hardness rubs against my belly as he cups my face, and his mouth descends on mine with an urgency that steals my breath. He starts slow, tentatively pressing his lips to mine, but all too soon, the kisses are demanding and warm, his tongue tenderly coaxing me to open so he can dip inside to further his exploration.
It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time because I want to experience it all. I want him to slow down so I don’t miss a thing. I want him to speed up, so can I see what comes next. I’m caught in the whirlwind of the moment, the taste of his kiss like the first drop of rain after a scorching summer day. It’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and completely new. I clutch at his shirt, grounding myself in the reality of his presence.
His tongue dances with mine, a seductive samba that leaves me dizzy and wanting more. I don’t know if I’m doing it right, but each movement is a lesson in passion. Each caresses a promise of more as he tilts my head to the left and then the right, expertly navigating the depths of my mouth.
My body is alive, tingling everywhere we connect. And the parts that don’t are eager for their turn.
This is my first make-out session, but with Harrison, it feels like discovering a hidden piece of art. Every brush of his lips is a stroke of genius, andevery sigh that escapes is a testament to his skill. I want to rip off his shirt and run my hands over his athletic body. I want him to do the same to me. Eager to take this further, I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest to his, deepening the kiss.
The crackle of a walkie-talkie shatters the spell between us, slicing through the thick air of lust.Instantly, I’m yanked back to earth from whatever dizzying height Harrison’s kisses had taken me. My heart hammers against my ribs, not from passion this time but from the sudden rush of panic. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers.
“Shit.”Harrison is as startled as I am. His eyes, like the darkest rum, are brewing a storm. His puffy lips and flaring nostrils draw me closer again despite the urgency of the moment. “Go into the breakout room,”he whispers. “Don’t turn on the light.”
Without hesitation, I grab my bag, and my legs wobble like a newborn fawn, but somehow, they carry me across the classroom to the small, attached breakout room. It’s a tiny space used for privacy, a haven filled with books and papers that suddenly feels like a sanctuary.
I duck inside, planting my back against the cool wall. My pulse is racing, each beat screaming ‘caught, caught, caught’ like some alarm bell gone rogue.
When I peek out, he’s shuffling the papers I was marking into a pile. He’s acting poised as if there’s nothing to be worried about, but the tension in his shoulders tell me he’s on high alert.
“Is everything okay, Professor Ashe?”The security guard’s booming voice should be muffled through the door, but it might as well be a megaphone directly into my ear.
“Fine, Frank. I lost time grading papers.”Harrison’s reply is so smooth and utterly unflustered that I almost believe him myself.
“Alright, don’t stay too late. These halls get creepy when it’s just me and the cleaning crew.”The guard’s footsteps fade away, along with the static buzz of the walkie-talkie.
“Creepy”doesn’t begin to cover how I feel right now, perched in the dark like some nocturnal creature, my breath coming out in sharp gasps. But there’s also a flicker of something else—a flare of excitement that sparks every nerve ending alive. It’s reckless and wild, like a taste of forbidden fruit that’s sweeter because it’s stolen.
Harrison opens the door and sticks his head in, eyes scanning the small space until they land on me. “He’s gone.”
“That was close.”I let out a shaky laugh, the sound somewhat hysterical even to my own ears. I’m aware of how disheveled I must look, my hair a mess from his fingers, my lips swollen from his kisses.
“Too close,” he agrees, and I can’t tell if his expression is disappointment or relief.
For a moment, we stand there, caught in the aftermath, the silence stretching between us like a tightrope.
“Maybe we should call it a night,”he says, but the way he looks at me, eyes smoldering, tells me this chapter of our story is far from over. “I’ll call you an Uber.”
As I step out of the office, brushing past him, I can’t help but think that while tonight’s escapade is ending, my adventure with Harrison Ashe is only beginning.