Page 174 of Right Man, Right Time
Ross leans forward so Silas can see him, and he says, “And just so you know, since we’re spilling secrets here, congrats on the piercings, Silas. She is positively infatuated with them.”
Silas lets out a deep chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”
We make our way through the crowd of students, and I don’t know if it’s because no one’s paying attention or Silas did a good job covering himself with a hat, glasses, and hoodie, but we go undetected. When we reach the classroom, thankfully, it’s a larger one, so we can sit in the back.
When we sit down, I notice just how big Silas is for the seat, his shoulder expanding into my space, but I welcome the comfort of having him near.
As I take out my laptop to take notes, I say, “Now, no distracting me. Got it?”
“How would I distract you?”
“Uh, touching, talking . . . breathing.”
“You don’t want me to breathe?” he asks, a raise to his brow.
“It will remind me how you breathe in my ear when you’re ready to come. There will be none of that.”
“You have to let him breathe,” Ross says. “Having a giant hockey man pass out in the middle of class will bring more attention than you want.”
“Fine,” I huff. “You can breathe, but that’s it.”
“Understood,” he says. “And just to clarify one more time, there’s a strict no-touching policy?”
“Very strict.”
“No handholding?”
“Would that be touching?” I ask him.
“Yeah.”
“Then no . . . no handholding. Just sit there and try not to turn me on.”
He stretches his arms in front of him and says, “I can’t make any promises since I’m so alluring to you, but I’ll try.”
“The cockiness is actually making me dryer by the second.”
“Can we not?” Ross asks as he sips his coffee. “I don’t want to think about your wet nether regions.”
“I sure as hell do,” Silas says.
I point at him. “That’s exactly what not to do. No comments like that. Just sit there and be quiet.”
The professor walks in before I can shoot off any more warnings to Silas. Class starts, I prep my notes with a header, and just as the professor starts talking, a text message pops up on my computer.
Silas:You look really pretty.
I glance over at him, and he points to the front of the class and whispers, “Pay attention.”
I roll my eyes and focus up front even though I can smell his addicting cologne waft toward me every time he shifts.
I start typing something the professor said when another text pops up on my screen.
Silas:That sweatshirt looks hot on you too.
My nostrils flare, and when I glance in his direction, he points at the front again.
He’s in so much trouble.
