Page 43 of Our Secret to Keep

After torturing me for an entire song, he climbs on top of me. He straddles my thighs, slowly moving his hands up my chest and to my shoulders. My cock grows harder, tenting my sweatpants. I want to remove them, but that’s probably against the rules.

Baby Face cages me against the couch with his gorgeous body. When our skin connects, an electric spark glides down my spine—just a simple brush of his fingers over my biceps.

Fucking hell.

He shoves the zip-up hoodie off my shoulders, letting it drop onto the couch. Our eyes lock as he rocks his hips, rubbing his dick against mine. As he grinds on me, his balls slip from the thong’s pouch. His erect cock peeks out from his underwear, the tip leaking pre-cum I want to lick off.

A low growl escapes from my throat, and his eyes meet mine. “Can I touch you?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

I scan the room and don’t see any visible cameras. “We’re alone, right?”

He bobs his head.

“Will some scary bouncer come running in here and cut off my hands?”

He bites his lip, considering my question. “No. It’s just us. No cameras. No bouncers.”

That explains why I paid two grand for five songs. We can do a lot in that short of a time, and no one will stop us.

My erection rubs his stomach. His eyes slam shut, and he lets out a moan. When his eyes open again, he leans forward, our lips so close we could kiss.

The makeup only does so much to conceal his identity, but the more I stare, the more I notice the strength of his jaw, the perfect curve of his nose, and his sculpted eyebrows.

“Fuck, professor,” I choke out, mentally chastising myself as the words leave my mouth.

He stops moving, hands braced on my shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I called you… professor.”

Mortified, he slides off my lap.

I reach out to him, and he recoils, stepping backward. “I won’t tell anyone, professor. Promise. It’s just… I’m a big fan of your work. I watch all of your videos. They’re so fucking hot.”

Professor West covers his face with his hands and sighs. “Fuck.”

I rise from the bench and move in front of him. “Look, I have much more to lose than you if anyone finds out.”

He inspects my face for a lie. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

He eyes me up again and shakes his head.

“I’m River Rousseau.”

He scratches his jaw, thinking it over, and mutters, “River? Your dad, he’s… No, I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were?—”

“Straight?”

He nods. “Yeah. But most people think that about me when we meet. Can’t make assumptions, I guess.”

In all fairness, we have never interacted until now. I sit with Nate and barely pay attention. Getting a degree is important to me, a fallback in case I don’t get signed by an NHL team or get injured, but I don’t see either of those things happening. I’m also not that interested in law. I only enrolled in the major to be near Nate.

“I’ll keep your secret,” I tell him. “No one knows I like men. And my dad… he would disown me. It would also ruin my hockey career.”

Professor West steps into his shorts, yanking them up his toned thighs. “I’ll see if the club can refund you. It is highly inappropriate for me to dance for a student.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this with you.”

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