Page 40 of The Teacher and the Virgin

Without another word, he tugged at the knot on his tie, loosened it and slipped it from his head, undid the top button of his shirt. Shrugged off his jacket and slug it, along with the tie, over his arm.

“There. And you look… perfect, by the way.” His eyes heated, but also held something else I didn't recognize. “We'll go to the diner. Just say yes.”

I wanted to, so, so badly. But with Carter came baggage, tons of it. A one night stand was one thing, but even though I wanted more with him, Iknewhim. I knew his lifestyle. His women. I wanted him so badly it hurt to breathe, but I also knew the facts. Carter would break me into a million little pieces if I let him. Last night convinced me of that. If I let him touch me again, I was doomed. I was too weak to be with him and not fall in love with him. Hell, it was too late for me already. I knew it. But that didn’t mean I was a masochist either. I knew how this would end and I couldn't compromise where my heart was concerned.

“Dinner. Come on.” His smile came out then. The big guns. “You have to eat.”

I rolled my eyes. That fucking smile. It so wasn’t fair. “Fine.”

I agreed, but only so I could tell him I couldn’t see him again. That was not a conversation I wanted to have in the privacy of my home with a big, soft bed so temptingly nearby.

He waited as I slipped on some shoes and grabbed my purse, locked up, then helped me into the car. I was cocooned in the supple interior with the distinct scent of leather and, of course, Carter.

He slid into the driver's seat and put the car in gear, wrapped his hands around the steering wheel.

I knew what those fingers could do, how dexterous they were. I shifted in the seat and could not stop glancing at him from the corner of my eye. God, he was sex on a stick. In just his dress shirt, the linen molded perfectly to his broad shoulders, thick biceps. I’d been discreetly studying his rock hard body every day for the last ten months, but never without a suit jacket. The company gym was on the second floor, and I often had to track him down there. Gym shorts and a tight, sweat-soaked t-shirt were a good look on him, and more than once I’d had to turn away as I spoke to him, afraid the urge to lick him up and down would show on my face.

But now I knew what he looked like naked, what he felt like.

He drove for a few minutes in silence. I had no idea what to say. I looked like a slob and felt so far out of his league. I didn’t even know why I was here, in his stupid car. Dinner. God, this… delusion was just stupid. It wasn’t like this was going to go anywhere and dinner was just going to make it even harder to walk away. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized this was a big mistake. Huge. Nothing good could come from letting my desire, my stupid hope, linger.

I shifted in my seat, annoyed now with the wetness I could still feel coating my inner thighs, the ache in my pussy that was from more than just his cock the night before. I was wet and ready for him. Again. Damn it. Why did it have to be Carter? Why couldn’t I have the hots for Dave in accounting? He was single, not bad looking, and only a year older than me. That would make more sense. But this? This was just crazy.

I sighed and shifted my legs, trying to ignore the scent of Carter’s cologne. But it seemed to infiltrate my body like an aphrodisiac, making me think about touching Carter, kissing Carter, opening my legs and watching Carter use his mouth on me until I begged him to fuck me. Again. In my own mind, I was the star of some freaking erotic romance novel and Carter was the bad-boy hero who knew how to work my body until I was so wrung out I couldn’t remember my own name. And I knew he could work me over and make me forget. In his bed, I'd forgotten all about reality for a little while as he filled me, tasted me, held me down and pressed me into his bed...

A soft moan escaped and I cut it off, wrapping my arms around my waist. I turned to stare out the window and saw that we were pulling into a twenty-four hour diner, just as he'd said. God, this was emotional suicide. “I think you should just take me home, Carter.”

Carter turned off the car and faced me.

“Why? I love the pie they serve here. Don't you like pie?”

I had to smile. “Yes, I like pie.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“I just don't understand.” I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it lower over my abdomen, needing another layer of protection between him and my overeager pussy. God, I was pathetic.

He frowned, his forearm resting on the steering wheel. “Neither do I, it seems. Explain, sweetheart.”

I waved my hand between us. “That. The sweetheart bit. Why do keep calling me that? It was a one-night-stand, so why dinner?”

“I never said it was a one-night-stand,” he countered.

“Carter, we made out in a bar bathroom.” I felt my cheeks heat and I had to look away.

“That wasn't making out, that was foreplay.”

Oh god. I needed new panties. My hands twisted in my lap as he continued.

“Foreplay for what we did in my bed, foreplay for what we'll do later tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.”

My eyebrows went up. “Forever? But you're a—”

I bit my lip and he frowned. “Finish that sentence.”

I hadn't even said it and I felt like I'd insulted him. But I saw the women, the photos. I knew the truth.

I looked down at my lap. “You're a man whore, Carter. Everyone knows it. I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m just another notch on your belt. That’s not the kind of girl I am.”

---