Page 10 of Kiss and Make Love

“No…”

“Then call me Brett.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I don’t want to be your professor right now.”

Hold on. What in the ever-loving shit was happening? Was this sunbeam of a man coming onto her? If he was, she liked it. Was he like this last night? It’s not that she couldn’t tell when someone was flirting with her, but Mr. Monroe was so opposite her typical partner that everything threw her off.

Shit. This wasn’t something she’d anticipated after acting a fool.

But it made sense, didn’t it?

Case in point: He answered her texts at one in themorning. He drove down to the bar to get her when she mentioned another guy would take her home. Another hazy memory appeared: he walked her to her door.

Most people wouldn’t even do that for a girl they were on an actual date with. Yet Brett did that for her at the drop of a hat.

Sure, he was a nice guy, but no one wasthatnice.

He was into her.

Holy shit.

“You don’t have to justify anything to me,Brett,” she started. Time to take a risk and see if her hunch was right. “You can wear whatever you want. But last night…those sweatpants…” she let the sentiment hang in the air between them.

Every person on the face of the earth knew what grey sweatpants did for a man. No way hethrew them onin a rush to pick her up.

“Yeah? What about them?” he coaxed, his voice taking a dangerous edge.

“Let’s just say I much prefer them to these stuffy corduroy numbers you always wear,” she said, taking the fabric on his thigh and rubbing it between her fingers.

His hand matched hers, resting on her thigh, stroking the fabric of her jumpsuit. “You could come over tonight. I could take these corduroys off, put the sweats back on…” His face moved closer to hers.

“Why put anything back on?” Her heartbeat kicked up, and she moved to close the gap between their lips.

Finally, she was going to kiss him.

Touch him.

Taste him.

“Mr. Monroe!”

There was a sharp knock on the office door before it swung wide open. Llewellyn came flying in, backpack half open, books threatening to spill all over the place, an energy drink in hand.

Spencer slid to the opposite end of the couch. Brett did the same. How much did Llewellyn see? Hopefully, they’d disengaged in time. Disengaged from what, though? What would have happened if Llewellyn hadn’t barged in?

Fucking Llewellyn.

“Oh, sorry there, Professor. I didn’t realize you were already busy with a student,” Llewellyn squeaked out.

Spencer rolled her eyes so forcefully they almost spun right out of her head. “That’s why you knock, Llewellyn.”

“I did!”

“No, you knocked at the same time you opened the door.” She rubbed her right temple. She didn’t have the patience for Llewellyn’s antics today. “Can you get the fuck out so I can finish my conversation with Mr. Monroe?”

“Okay,” Brett stood up, holding his hands out in agesture of peace. “No need for anyone to get mad at anyone here. Llewellyn, what do you need?”

“Well, sir,” he pushed his too-big glasses up his too-small nose. “I wanted to ask for an extension on my funeral process essay?”

“It’s already two weeks overdue.”

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