Page 50 of The Professor's Wife

For a second, neither of us moved.

The silence between us thickened, charged with everything we weren’t saying. I could feel how close he was now—close enough that if I leaned back even slightly, I would be pressed against him.

Close enough that my pulse—erratic and excited—seemed to echo in the space between us.

“Okay,” he said at last, his voice low. “It’s undone.”

He didn’t step away.

I turned slowly, the dress loosening and slipping from my shoulders as I faced him. His eyes dropped despite himself, then snapped back up as though he were fighting a battle entirely of his own making.

The tension in his jaw told me he wasn’t winning.

For a moment, we simply looked at each other.

The van felt impossibly small.

The bed suddenly very real behind me.

His fingers clasped my chin. His touch was warm and firm as he ran his thumb over my lips, his eyes still on mine.

“Daisy,” he said tightly. “I…”

“You what?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to figure out how…to treat you…” His eyes dropped to my bra. My breathing picked up. Agony danced in his eyes as he gritted out, “Without being a fucking ape about it.”

I half-smiled.

The fact that I could make him feel this way consumed me.

Without waiting, I reached behind myself and unclasped my bra.

“Who said I wanted you to be careful?”

His eyes burned into my bare skin. “Daze…”

“Show me.”

His mouth collided with mine instantly.

His hands were everywhere. Running down my back. Cupping my breast.

A deep groan escaped his mouth as he knocked me backward. We fell onto the bed together, him over me, heating me, his tongue dancing with mine as his hands feverishly explored my body.

“God, Daisy,” he groaned, grazing my jaw with his teeth. “It’s been fucking torture not touching you.”

I could hardly respond.

My hands were everywhere, too. Pulling off his shirt. Gripping the hard lines of his back. The muscles of his biceps.

I grabbed and pulled and kissed him greedily, thirsting for his tongue and his taste. I moaned when he ground against my center.

It wasn’t even rough.

A gentle rub that made me shake and shudder.

“Hurry,” I gasped. “Hurry, Tristan.”