Page 14 of Bad Professor

Smiling. Smiling like the proverbial cat that’s eaten the canary. Only he ate—

Before I can say anything or even get my thoughts in order, Dexter scoops me up. I let out a squeak as he carries me into the bedroom, as gently as a knight rescuing a maiden.

It feels like he did.

Rescue me.

I feel tingly, like my legs won’t hold me up enough to make it to the bedroom, and I really want to make it to the bedroom.

He made me come, right there, standing up in my living room.

I won’t be able to sit on the couch and watch TV without thinking about it.

Dexter sets me on the bed. “Take your clothes off,” he orders and strips off his own shirt.

Oh.

His chest is romance-novel chiselled, with just enough hair. And his abs… I meet his gaze as wide-eyed as I greeted him earlier.

“You okay?”

My laugh is not my own. It’s the laugh of a woman who just had an orgasm standing up in her living room. “Uh… yeah.”

“Good. Take your clothes off.” He moves to unbutton his jeans and something in my brain short-circuits because I’d much rather just watch him.

But he stops, jeans undone and on the cusp of being pushed down. If I looked in that area, could I see the length of him pressed against his boxer-briefs? “Tilly? I want to see you.”

“You really don’t.”

He laughs. “Oh, I think I really do.” Stepping closer to where I still lie on the bed, propped up on my elbows, Dexter reaches around my neck to undo the little buttons at the nape of my neck.

His fingers are warm and capable of undoing any button on my clothes.

I have no idea how he knew the button was even there. But he does, and then he pulls my dress over my head. It’s a clumsy move with absolutely no finesse, but it’s so sexy for a person who hasn’t been undressed by another person in such a long time that I almost come again on the spot.

Instead, I watch Dexter pull off his jeans and look in the right place so I can see his length…

And it’s considerable.

But I don’t have time to wonder or wait or even reach out and touch. Because Dexter positions me against the pillows and leans over and kisses me.

Oh.

I’m not ready for it. There’s no time to prepare. But when his mouth slots over mine and my lips part to welcome him, I moan into his mouth.

I can taste myself. His tongue slips between my lips and right here on my bed, the bed where I once slept with Carlos, I am kissing another man.

I’m kissing Dexter and it’s wonderful.

My arms slide around his neck and I don’t even think about how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed like this—years? Decades?

Forever.

He leans over me, one hand bracing himself by my pillow, the other sliding onto my breast. But it’s his mouth that captivates me, moving against mine like it was meant to.

Like he was meant to be with me.

His mouth claims me, teasing, his tongue dancing with mine. The kiss turns urgent, demanding, and he coaxes another moan out of me.

---