Page 55 of The KING Review

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Me too.”

My throat goes tight, and I clear it, but it doesn’t help. “I should, uh⁠—”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“It’s okay.”

We both laugh, awkward and fucked out, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It’s more like that giddy kind of aftermath haze. I wish I could feel him. My fingers ache for his skin under my touch.

“Meet in the middle?” I ask.

Grant quirks a brow, still reclined on the bed, breathing heavy.

I meant what I said—he’s beautiful. He’s like a work of art, an oil painting. I could look at him for hours and never get bored. I’m sure I’d always find a new thing to admire.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… You need to get cleaned up.” I crack a smile, and Grant huffs a soft, self-effacing laugh. “So do I, really. But then maybe…”

I trail off, not sure if I should suggest it or not.

But Grant must have the same idea—the same desire—because he picks up where I end, offering, “Maybe we could just… talk?”

Heat spreads under my ribs—not the volcanic, holy-shit-my-professor-just-called-me-baby-girl kind, but something slower, softer, stickier. Something harder to untangle.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’d be nice.”

“Okay,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” I echo. “Bye… but, not for long?”

He smiles—a soft, sweet, almost boyish smile I’ve never seen on him before but immediately want to see again. “Not for long, angel.”

I almost die on the spot. I hang up before I can grin too hard and lose all of my mystique. I clean up slowly, but every movement, I wish my hands were his. I hope in the future they can be, but I don’t want to wish too hard. All of this might not scare me, but I know it scares him.

My phone pings when I step back into my bedroom from the ensuite, slipping into an oversized tee and fresh sleep shorts before sliding under the comforter and settling back against the cushions.

Professor Daddy:

You okay?

Me:

yeah, I’m good

you?

Professor Daddy:

I’m fine. I’ve never done anything like that before.

I huff a laugh to myself. I don’t know if I should make a joke and say that’s cute, or mention that it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this, but it feels like it’s not the place to tease.

Before I can think of sending something back, my phone vibrates on my thigh.

Professor Daddy:

I’m glad it was with you.