Page 30 of Detention with Daddies

She has nice control over her body, her movements are confident and smooth. She looks strong. Flexible. And her cardiovascular health is much better than her size would make me assume.

Her subjects have fun as she teaches them the moves to her dancing workout, laughing at their own mistakes and listening when she makes corrections.

How did the place she applied to as a personal trainer turn her down when she is so good at this?

Did they only see her size like I had when she first arrived in my office? Granted, our first conversation showed me more layers to her than her weight, but I’d still been held back by my preconceived notions.

Now though, Olivia has turned into one of the sexiest women I’ve ever pined after.

When they’re done, I approach. “Come meet me in my office at the university when you’re finished.”

She nods, eyes a little wide, but all of the energy surrounding her, inside of her, the glow of her skin…

I have to find space before I do something incredibly inappropriate in front of everyone. My feet are quick under me as I march back to my office. It’s late enough in the day for the halls to be relatively quiet.

It takes me several minutes of pacing my office to settle behind my desk and wait. I’m watching the door, gaze unfocused, hands braced against my mouth.

When the door creaks open, my eyes lock on her immediately. Her hair is damp, her cheeks rosy, her posture tentative.

I stand and clock her flinch at the sudden movement. “Close the door. Please.”

Slipping inside, she does as I ask, closing the door behind her and bracing herself against it, watching me like I’m a predator and she’s my prey.

Maybe that’s true because I’m desperate for a taste of her.

Her hands splay against the door behind her as I near, eyes wide, but she doesn’t seem afraid. Just unsure. Nervous.

“Sir?”

That word shudders through me, and I step closer. “Say it again.”

She bites her lip, and it pops free after a second, a little more confidence filling her eyes and posture as if that small clue made her understand what is happening right now. “Sir.”

Her voice is softer, breathier.

My hand finds the door beside her, making her tip her head back to look up at me. We’re so close now that I can practically feel her lush body against mine.

Her pupils dilate.

I suck in a slow, deep breath. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since we were smashed together on Thursday.”

Granted, I’ve thought about much, much more than that.

Her mouth parts in a little pant—those lips rosy and supple and ready to be kissed.

“It’s inappropriate. You should tell me to stop.” Because I’m leaning in, and she doesn’t move a muscle, mouth still tilted up toward mine, ready for mine to come down and take what I want.

Olivia is not going to stop me.

So, I give in, dropping in to kiss her. It’s so much softer than I’ve let myself want, but the spark has me holding back, testing the waters, tasting her in a reverent way.

Because if I let myself, we will fall into boiling water far, far too quickly.

OLIVIA

Dr. Waylen Wright, my thesis advisor, is kissing me. God, he’s good at it. Teasing and testing, but the intensity electrifies me.

It feels like he’s ready to devour me.

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