2. Emma
2
EMMA
“ I know what will take your mind off things,” Ana says as she leads the way through a set of double doors and out into the warm air. “We should start planning for the summer!”
“Why,” I groan. “That’s so far away it’s hardly a distraction. If anything, it’ll just make me wish more of my time away.”
“Don’t be such a bore,” Ana scolds with a smile. “Hot teacher might not be interested but that doesn’t mean things have to end there. Think about it. We could go on vacation somewhere scorching hot where the men are sexy and covered in tan.”
She’s trying her best to lift my spirits and while the disappointment of rejection sits high in my heart, I do appreciate her attempts.
“Maybe I need time away from men,” I decide, tilting my face up toward the sun as we walk through the courtyard. “What about going up into the mountains?”
“With all those bugs?” Ana gags loudly. “No, thank you. I don’t need to get that close to nature.”
“Come on, it could be fun! My dad has a cabin up in the woods. The three of us could go for a girl's trip and spend two weeks disconnected from everything. Utterly chill, one with the world and all that good stuff, hmm?” I squeeze her elbow with mine, trying to make the idea sound much more alluring than an expensive trip to another country.
“I forgot about that,” Ana says, starting to take wider steps across the stone slabs and avoiding the cracks. “You’re so good at hiding how rich you are.”
Her dancing steps grow wider, and our elbows unlink as she dedicates herself to making sure she doesn’t step on any cement cracks.
“Correction: my parents have money, but they’re always so disappointed in me that there’s nothing but mothballs in my account,” I remind her. “However, I am feeling generous, so come on. I’ll buy you a coffee.”
“I knew I loved you.” Ana flashes me a grin; then together, we head toward our regular coffee cart. It’s a little more expensive than the ones off campus, but there’s something about how they caramelize the sugar here that it’s worth the few extra dollars.
“Two coffees please, whipped cream on one.” I pass over the required amount then sidestep the crowd that forever seems a constant around this cart. Ana waits nearby, one arm crossed over her middle while she taps through her phone. Keeping an eye on the pickup area, I stop next to her as she lifts her head.
“Come for drinks on Friday.”
“This Friday?” I squint at her, trying to protect my eyes from the glaring sun.
“Yep. We deserve it.”
“Like we deserved it last week?” I meet Ana’s withering glance with a wide smile.
“Well, exams are coming up and we deserve to let our hair down before we’re buried under textbooks and essays.”
“Exams are still well over a month away.” I laugh, adjusting the strap on my bag to stop the fabric from cutting too harshly into my shoulder. “But sure. I need to drown my sorrows.”
“Maybe we can find you someone even sexier than Finn, hmm?” She wiggles her brows until I laugh.
“Oh, to see someone even more attractive than him? In the same city? Doubtful.”
Ana rolls her eyes while I step away to pick up our coffees, then I hand hers over and lap once at the whipped cream on my drink.
“Shit.” Ana glances back at her phone. “I have to get to my next class. You gonna be alright by yourself?”
“Sure.” I nod. “I’ll swing by the Art Department and see how Meghan is getting on. Maybe we can grab some lunch or something.”
“Lucky, okay, I’ll catch you later, babe. Thanks for the coffee!” A swift peck on the cheek and Ana darts across the courtyard toward her next building. I decided to take my time since Meghan’s classes tend to go on a lot longer than my own lectures.
Wandering through the courtyard, I slowly drink my coffee and lazily make my way toward the Art Department while running Finn over in my mind. I dressed myself up today for him, but his reaction was eye-opening. Maybe I read too much into touches and glances that were nothing more than a teacher being respectful. I let myself get carried away.
Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but the idea of an older man nestled in my mind years ago, and the first time I saw him…he was perfect.
Everything I ever could have dreamed. Then again, someone like Finn surely deserves a gorgeous, confident woman and not an over-eager twenty-two-year-old.
By the time I reach the art studio, I’ve pushed Finn from my mind and my thoughts turn to lunch. Shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other, I knock gently on the wooden door that sits ajar, and peer inside.
Meghan’s name rests on my tongue but the words don’t make it past my lips.
Inside the art studio, I glimpse a man.
He sits by the pottery wheel, barefoot and topless, with dark blue jeans clinging to clearly muscular legs. His golden skin gleams against the sunlight streaming in the large bay windows, and his shoulder-length, thick silver hair catches the same rays, looking almost translucent.
Soft humming rises from him as his large hands stroke and caress the lump of clay in his hands. I can’t tell what he’s trying to make but honestly, I don’t care. He’s absolutely stunning. Slowly walking closer, the mass of dark ink across his left shoulder becomes clearer. A giant eagle perches on his shoulder, with the wings sweeping down his bicep. By the time it reaches his forearm, it’s melted into vines covered in gorgeous flowers that bloom down to his wrist.
The eagle’s other wing stretches across his back to his right shoulder, where it joins with a half-finished design. An octopus, if I had to take a guess.
The floor creaks under my boots and warmth flushes across the back of my neck. He looks up, crystal blue eyes locking onto mine and then a wide, pleasant smile stretches across his handsome face.
My heart flutters.
Holy shit. This man is stunning .
“Hi.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.
His foot doesn’t pause on the pedal as he works with the clay, but his eyes stay on me. They wander slowly down my body, chasing a rush of heat that sweeps across my skin. When he looks back into my eyes, there’s an odd feeling that he’s seen so much more of me than the clothes on my back.
“Well, hello.” His voice is deep, with a slight rasp at the end of his sentence. Goosebumps rush down my arms and I clutch my hands together in front of my abdomen.
“What are you making?”
He glances down at the clay in his hands, then back at me. “I’m not sure yet. Whatever it wants to be made into.”
“The clay tells you what it wants?” I walk closer, stopping just on the edge of the clay splatter that coats the floor around the pottery wheel. Who is this man, and why has Meghan never told me someone so attractive was in her class?
“In a way. You can’t force the clay to be something it’s not. You have to coax her. Whisper to her. Make her trust you and follow her curves like she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever had the pleasure of caressing.”
The clay molds around his hands, stretching up into a long tube. As it thins out, the edges start to fold in on themselves but he’s there to catch them. With a slow, sensual stroke of his thumb, he catches the curling edges and smoothes them back into place.
His eyes never leave me. The heat of his gaze forces me to stay rooted to the spot and I feel entirely on display.
“You’d know all about that, I’m sure,” he says.
“Oh no.” I shake my head and a shy laugh bubbles up. “I’ve never made pottery before.”
“Not that.” His eyes remain steadfastly locked onto mine. “Being caressed like you are the most beautiful creature on the planet.”
My skin is scorching, and my core suddenly throbs as the muscles between my thighs pull. How deliciously forward of him.
“I can’t say I do,” I reply, slowly licking my lower lip into my mouth. “Hard to find someone that knows what to do with their hands.”
“Perhaps you need to turn your attention away from unskilled boys and find a man with the right kind of talent. Only men can appreciate art.”
Is he coming on to me?
He definitely is.
This gorgeous, muscular, stunning silver fox is flirting with me. I don’t know if it’s because of the disappointment around Finn, or the fact that everything about this man appeals to my deepest desires, but I like it.
“Know of anyone?” I lift one brow and glance back at the clay. A tall, slender vase with a large, curvaceous bottom is appearing beneath his hands while he works.
“I appreciate art,” he says, his lips pulling into a lopsided smirk. The smattering of silver hair across his jaw gives him an almost crystalline appearance.
Did I pass out?
Is this just some kind of dream? Men this attractive don’t exist. And if they do, they’re not interested in me.
“Are you offering?” My hip shifts to the left and I take a deeper breath. Fabric pulls across my large chest and the man’s eyes dart down to where those buttons cling for dear life.
“Perhaps—”
“Emma!” Meghan hurried into the room through the curved archway, brushing the beaded curtains to the side. “What are you doing here?”
Heat bursts across the back of my neck like I’ve just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar by my mother. Spinning to face her, I plaster the happiest smile onto my face.
“I came to see if you were free for some lunch.”
“Oh!” Meghan has several splatters of colorful paint across her blue shirt and jeans, and a happy glint burns in her eye. This is her happy place. “Sure, let me just get cleaned up.” Her eyes dart from me to the man. “Oh, this is my teacher. Professor Adair.”
Professor?!
This is Meghan’s teacher?
I spin to face him and he smiles that sexy, wide smile once more. “Meghan, I’ve told you. Call me Caspian.”
Caspian. Of course his name is as godly as he is.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” My words are waspish, strained through the building embarrassment that rises in my chest like acid reflux. There’s no way I just stood there and all but threw myself at Meghan’s teacher.
I can’t look him in the eye after that; instead, I focus on what he’s doing with the clay. I could see him still watching me out of the corner of my eye, though, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind the flirting. As Meghan hurries around the room cleaning herself up, the throb between my legs doesn’t fade. I want to be the clay.
I want to feel those skilled hands gliding over my body, coaxing all the sweet spots out of me?—
Fuck. I need to get laid.
“Alright, I’m ready! Bye Caspian. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Goodbye, Meghan.” Caspian nods his head, and a few strands of silver hair part from his hairline and graze his temple. Finally, I look him in the eye and my stomach somersaults.
“Goodbye, Emma.”
“Bye!” I can barely get the word out before Meghan’s arm is linked with mine and she’s pulling me out of the room. The cool air of the corridor does nothing to calm the fire raging across my cheeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me your professor was so fucking hot?”
Megan snorts, rolling her eyes. “Because I know you. You’d try and fuck him like you try to climb everything else around here.”
I retract my arm from Meghan’s elbow immediately, offended. “Uh, first of all, slut shaming looks gross on you. Second, it’s not my fault that the guys our age are so obnoxiously immature. Is it my fault that the only decent male attention you can get exists in older men?”
“Yes,” Meghan remarks. “You’re wired wrong.”
It’s an old argument between us, and one we never see eye to eye on. Meghan is much more refined than I am. Prude, as Ana likes to say.
“Whatever.” Brushing it aside, I re-link my arm with hers. “I know my worth and I deserve a sexy older man to treat me right.”
And maybe, finally, I have the interest of one.