Riding Out the Storm

By: Emma Jay

She drew away, just a few inches. “I’m not wearing a skirt.”

“I can work around that.” He stepped back.

Unable to tell if he was teasing, she watched him, but saw no joking in his brown eyes, so she put her hand in his. Heat flooded her body, pooling between her legs in anticipation of his hands and mouth on her.

Again she felt like a fraud, here under the guise of being sexy, of being experienced about casual sex. All because she wanted to be close to this man. She should bolt now, but instead allowed him to guide her through the sea of partygoers.

“You have a room here?” she asked, her voice breathless as he led her into the hall.

He blew out a laugh. “I’m no frat boy.”

“But you said the other room.” She followed behind him, confused.

“I have a roommate who’s always in the dorm room, and I don’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.” He opened a door, checked inside, then closed it again and led her down the hall to the next room.

“What? Why?”

He checked the room, then turned to face her. “You think I was playing around about that fantasy? Every time you walk by my seat, I get a hard-on, smelling you.” He leaned in to take a deep breath, then frowned a little. “And you walk by my seat a lot.”

“I thought you were interested in what I was teaching.”

“Oh, yeah. But I’m also trying to see what you look like under those clothes.” His gaze traveled down to her breasts. “This is much better.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “You clearly don’t have much of an imagination.”

“We’ll see what you say about that when I’m done.”