Page 55 of The Professor's Wife

I twisted my face to look at him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted. He was hardly breathing as I pulled his mouth to mine.

The kiss was sloppy and filled with lust.

He spread my legs apart, his fingers running along my folds. I let out a soft sound, and his kiss only deepened, turning messy as he slipped a finger inside me.

He grunted, as though he had noticed how wet I was for him and his touch.

He withdrew his finger and pushed me onto my back. Then he reached into the narrow drawer beside the bed, pulled out a condom, and set it near my hip before settling over me.

But we weren’t kissing.

He was staring at me, his quickened breaths hitting my face. He searched my eyes, and when I squirmed and looked away, his gentle fingers touched my chin, coaxing me to look back at him.

“What?” I asked quietly, my cheeks heating beneath the deep look he was giving me.

“Just wondering where you came from,” he murmured.

“Nowhere,” I said, brushing my lips against his. “I’m no one, Tristan.”

He kissed me back, but his eyes never closed. His brows drew together as he looked at me.

“Only people who are running say things like that.”

I looked at his mouth. Anything to sever the hold he had over me when I stared into his eyes.

“I don’t feel like I’m running right now.”

“No?” he prodded.

I shook my head slightly. “No.”

“No broken heart I gotta worry about?”

My chest tightened as my eyes flashed to his. I buried my shock quickly beneath the heat in his gaze.

I swallowed hard. “No broken heart.”

He kissed me softly. “Good.”

He reached for the condom without taking his eyes from me, tore it open, and rolled it on.

I wrapped my legs around his hips. My fingers curled into his hair. I shut my eyes, breathing him in as he slowly rocked into me, fucking me with a restraint I could feel in every tremor of his body.

My skin burned.

I was all feeling.

My entire existence centered around this.

I was vulnerable and aching and filled with life.

And this vibrant young man was enjoying me in a way I had never experienced before. His kisses were feverish, his breaths ragged. He may have been fucking me slowly, but I could feel how much effort it took him to hold back in the way he shook over me after every thrust.

“Don’t want this to end…” he whispered, drawing a long moan from me when he lightly ground himself between my legs, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

In the heat of the moment, hanging in that space between bliss and heartache, I whispered back, “Everything ends.”

He continued to move, his biceps straining as he rocked slowly in and out of me.