Page 16 of Wild Skies

“Come here.”

I lean down, her arms looping around my neck, and then she jumps up, ass resting on my forearm. Our heartbeats rattle together, chests sealed, and the warmth of Maren’s sweet, soft body seeps into my front.

“We’re in your office,” she hisses, scandalized, as I press her against the locked door. “There are other people in the building. Someone might hear. Or come looking for you.”

But her ankles lock behind my back, and my laugh is muffled against her hair. Maren shivers, pressing closer to me despite her words.

“Exactly,” I murmur, lining us up so that the rigid line of my cock presses against the damp heat between her legs.Christ.How many times have I dreamed of this? Arousal winds through me, tense and torturous, and I grind against her, static buzzing in my brain. “After tomorrow, we won’t be professor and student anymore, sweetheart. This is our last chance to break the rules.”

Her delighted laugh vibrates through my whole body. Stifling a groan, I lick at the pulse point beneath her jaw, reveling in the salty taste of her skin.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Maren says. Her thighs flex, and her body rolls against mine, teasing my shaft through my clothes. My teeth grit together, trapping a tortured growl in my chest.

“You have no idea,” I grind out, ducking down to bite and nibble at her slender shoulder. “No idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

Even now, I’m lightheaded with the sensations of her body against mine. Dizzy with this daydream coming to life. Is this real?

“Oh, believe me, professor.” Maren’s fingers wind through my hair, tugging until my scalp prickles with heat. My head tilts back, my chest heaving. “I have an inkling.”

Then my shy, sweet student yanks my face down to hers—and kisses me so deeply that I come apart at the seams.

Nine

Maren

It’s happening.It’s happening.Professor Gregory Carter has me pressed against his locked office door, grinding our hips together. He groans against my mouth; slips his tongue past my lips.

It’s like one of my daydreams.Betterthan one of my daydreams, because this is real.

We’re both salt-crusted and windblown from two weeks in the mountains, and we both have shadows under our eyes from barely sleeping last night. Our clothes are scuffed and dusty, and my nose is pink from a light sunburn. When the professor kisses me deeply, his five o’clock shadow rasps against my cheeks.

I want to live in this moment forever.

“Do you really mean it?” I can’t help asking between kisses, hands roaming greedily over his chest, his shoulders, the nape of his neck. He’s so strong, so sturdy, so muscular beneath his clothes. “Are you sure?”

Greg gives me a crooked smile without leaning back, his mouth slanting against mine. “Maren,” he says, his voice tingling against my lips. “I’ve never been so fucking sure in my life.”

Sparks of pleasure heat my insides, and I clutch at the professor’s plaid shirt and suck on his tongue. He groans like a tortured man, rubbing his hips into mine.

God.

Need twists through my belly, my pulse pounding between my legs.

And… that bulge feels awfully large where it’s grinding against my core. Intimidatingly large. How the hell am I gonna fit that thing inside me?

The cowardly part of me whispers that I should find out another day; that I should go home and do some research, some prep, some personal grooming. That I should face down my first time like a soldier prepped for war, with minimal risk of embarrassment.

But a far bigger, far louder part of me screams that if I don’t feel this man push inside me in the next few minutes, I am going to lose my ever-loving mind. Screw research and game plans; screw shaving my bikini line. He loves me. He’s quitting his job for me.

I trust this man with everything.

“Please, professor, I want—”

My fingers are clumsy against his shirt buttons, and I cut off with a huff, leaning back to scowl at the fiddly little discs. They come apart so slowly, his magnificent chest revealed one tiny sliver at a time. And I’ve seen this all before in the river, but the sight still makes my thighs flex around Greg’s waist.

“I want… shoot.”

Stifling a laugh, the professor catches my hands and presses them against his bare chest, holding them still. His heartbeatthuds against my knuckles, and he waits for me to meet his gaze before he speaks, mouth curving up with amusement.

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