Page 6 of Kiss and Make Love

“I get to see your butt,” she stated matter-of-factly. Wasn’t it obvious? Was she saying butt a lot?

“And that’s a win for me, how?”

Spencer worked it out in her head. “Well…if I like your butt, then I’d show you my butt. Fair trade.”

There was a long pause. Mr. Monroe shifted in his seat but remained quiet.

Shit.

Something she said?

“You don’ wanna see my ass? S’it too big?” She started yanking up her leather short-shorts, determined to check on her own behind.

“Oh my god, Spencer. You are not making this easy on me,” he sighed.

She stopped. Yanking on her seat belt, she turned in her seat to fully face him. “What’s not easy?”

“You’re my student. I’m your professor. I shouldn’t be thinking about seeing your ass.”

“So you do want to see my butt,” she stated.

“Are you going to remember any of this tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “Not a chance. Well, atinychance, but not a high one.”

He took a moment, as if debating something, then exhaled a big breath. “Yes, I want to see your ass. Look at you. You’re incredibly sexy,” he blurted out. “I’d be an idiot not to notice you like that. You’ve been taking classes from me for almost two years.”

All this time when she’d been noticing him, had he also been noticing her? Did he have stupid daydreams about her, too?

“Do you ever think about me? Not in the classroom? Because I think about you all the time. And not only about your butt. I think about your hair, your beautiful, crooked nose, your chest, what your co?—”

“Fuck’s sake,” Mr. Monroe interjected, stopping her before she could confess how many times she’d imagined his cock.

Was it big? Was it thick? How long was it? Was there a slight bend to one side or the other? Did he know how to use it? Could he satisfy her the way she wanted?

“What?” She feigned innocence and batted her eyelashes at him. “You don’ like the word cock?”

“You’re killing me, Spencer,” he groaned.

Oh. She liked how that sounded. He needed to do it again.

“Or you don’ like the idea of me talking ‘boutyourcock, specifically?”

Another groan, this time accompanied by a hand reaching down to shift something in his pants—something very obvious, thanks to the sweatpants he had on. Oh yeah. She could work with that.

She twirled a curl around her finger. “You like that? Wanna know more of what I’ve been fantasizing about?”

“Yes. No,” he grumbled in frustration. She rarely heard him grumble. “Spencer, I’m your professor. It’s inappropriate.”

“You mispronouncedhot.”

“No, I mean it’s forbidden. I could get into trouble.”

“Both of those things sound fun to me,” she smirked. “And by the tent in your pants, I’d wager they sound fun to you, too.”

“Spencer, you’ve had a lot to drink. I’m not sure if you know what you’re saying. I’m going to get youhome safely and then pray you forget everything that’s happened since I picked you up.”

“You’re always so sweet,” she moped, slumping in the passenger seat. “Would it kill you to be a little sinful every now and again?”

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