To: Alice Carroll

I have a feeling it’s similar in difficulty to avoiding your eye contact all throughout class.

I smelled your perfume when I came into class.

• • •

From: Nathaniel Easton

Date: Friday, October 16, 2015 10:19 PM

Subject: Today

To: Alice Carroll

Did you have to wear those fucking shoes to class?

• • •

Smiling, I stripped down to nothing but my thong and the red high-heels. Standing with my back to my full-length mirror, I looked over my shoulder at my reflection and took a photo. It was a full back shot, from the heels he was cursing up to my long blonde locks hanging down my back. I attached it to my email and sent it along.

From: Alice Carroll

Date: Friday, October 16, 2015 10:25 PM

Subject: Re: Today

To: Nathaniel Easton

I did. Maybe I can wear them while you fuck me.

• • •

From: Nathaniel Easton

Date: Friday, October 16, 2015 10:31 PM

Subject: Re: Today

To: Alice Carroll

Jesus. Do you even know how beautiful you are?

• • •

The comment caught me off guard, but warmed me up inside of my cold apartment. I’d ignored Leo’s call earlier that day, choosing instead to delay the inevitable. And I was so very impatient to see Nathaniel again, outside of class.

The thought made me compose my next email.

From: Alice Carroll

Date: Friday, October 16, 2015 10:35 PM

Subject: Re: Today

To: Nathaniel Easton

You know, when I sent that first email to you a month ago, when I’d asked about extra credit? The first draft of the email had said this:

Please bend me over your desk and fuck me until it hurts.

• • •

From: Nathaniel Easton

Date: Friday, October 16, 2015 10:36 PM

Subject: Re: Today

To: Alice Carroll

My answer is yes.

• • •

At the bottom of the email he’d included his cell number and a “Call me.”

Gnawing on my lip, I dialed his number.

“Adele.”

God, his voice warmed me through the freaking receiver. “Nathan.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk today. You seemed to want to chat with me at the end of class.”

After class, I’d taken longer than necessary to pack up my things, hoping that my delay would mean some one-on-one time with Nathan. But my plan had been thwarted by the nitwit Ashley, the girl who had taken up spending more and more time at Nathan’s desk at the end of class. She’d brought up her graded monologue, telling Nathan she didn’t understand his criticisms of her work.

Nathan had glanced up upon seeing me, an apology in his eyes, before turning back to repeat what I’d known he’d already written on her assignment.

“Chatting wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I told him. For some reason, talking on the phone with him made me anxious. Hearing his voice instead of reading his words was more intimate and, incredibly, more arousing.

“Ah. Well, maybe another time. By the way, you should bring your coat to class. We’re supposed to get snow over the weekend.”

I looked down at the comforter I’d wrapped around myself. “I don’t have a coat yet.” I hadn’t had a chance to buy one, nor the funds for it. But I was too proud to tell him that, so I just said, “But thanks for the tip, mom. I’ll work on it.”

“Hey,” he chided. “I’m just looking out for your legs. You wore a skirt to class today—not exactly winter weather appropriate.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

He huffed a breath through the phone. “Of course I noticed. The heels, remember?”

I smiled. “They’re great heels.”

“Hey, I have to go. But text me from now on. It’ll be easy.”

“Roger that.”

“Get a coat.”

“Maybe.” I liked bossy Nathan. But my spine was steel and even if I liked being told what to do, it was in my nature to be contrary.

Chapter Nineteen

Walking out into the darkening parking lot, I waved goodbye to one of my colleagues who was making the same quick escape that I was after that boring as hell faculty meeting. Even though Daylight Savings hadn’t kicked in yet, the sun was setting markedly earlier, no longer keeping the already bare trees covered in light much past seven-thirty.

Since the fall colors had peaked early and disappeared with the same quickness, dusk held an eerie glow with the way it wrapped around the skeletal trees. It made everything feel colder too, when the trees lost their vibrant clothing. Letting out one shiver, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket.

The warm reprieve to my fingers was sobering, bringing back the memory of Adele wrapping herself in that threadbare, obviously fake jacket. She’d been embarrassed when I’d brought it up, brushing off her clear financial burden. The simple, worn furnishings definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed either time I was at her place. Okay, they had the first time, I had to admit. I hadn’t been paying attention to a damn thing except her that night.

Still, a week after my giving in to her, I felt like I was living in a tunnel. I couldn’t see, hear, feel, or smell anything but her. The sex was so, so good that I walked around in a constant state of improvident arousal, high off of what she was making me feel. I greedily inhaled her emails and fought every instinct to show up at her place in the middle of the night, just so I could touch and taste and devour and claim.

So this new feeling, this desire to help her, make her simple life a little easier, was disquieting. I pushed it down though, not feeling equipped to break down and label every single thing I was doing with her. Instead I pulled my phone out and tapped out a text message to her, something I rarely did.

Me: Be outside the back entrance to your building in fifteen min.

Adele: Oooh, mysterious. And you text now?

Me: Apparently. Time is of the essence. Don’t make me wait.

Adele: Someday, I’ll need a shrink to tell me why you being a dick is so fucking sexy.

I grinned when I saw her last reply, turning the key in my car’s ignition. Instead of replying, like I’m sure she was waiting for me to do, I simply slipped my phone back in my pocket and took off toward her apartment, now very grateful for the impending darkness.

“What’s with the cloak and dagger?” Adele asked as she slid into the passenger seat of my running car. I hadn’t gotten out to get her or opened the door like I’d been trained to do my whole life. But that was date behavior, and nothing Adele and I had ever done would approach the same polite courtesies that could qualify as that.

“We have an errand to run,” I said, giving her a brief glance and shaking my head at the fact that she wasn’t wearing her jacket at all. “Aren’t you cold?”

She shrugged, running a hand over the dashboard of my car. “I’m kind of used to it by now. Umm, this car is sexy. You realize that, right?”

Of course I did. I was a guy, and I drove a black 2015 BMW M6 Gran Coupe. It was what would happen if the greatest car in the world got knocked up by the mother of all orgasms and then gave birth. Instead I just smiled and watched her run her thin, graceful fingers over every surface she could touch. I thought she might look out of place in my car, but with her leggings, ratty denim skirt, banged-up cowboy boots, Rolling Stones t-shirt, messy ponytail and fresh face, she looked shockingly at ease against the leather seats.

“God,” she moaned and sank into the bucket seat, “I should do you just for letting me ride in this beauty.”