Page 107 of Going Deep
When she’d continued to protest, he’d bent her over the desk and showed her just how convenient it could be to have a home office.
His blood stirred at the thought. He’d been gone for four long days, and was more than ready to see his woman again. She’d had a half day at the Center, as she always did on Fridays, and since it was only four o’clock, he had high hopes for a romp. They’d invited Anna and Grant, Lola and Simon over for the evening, but their friends wouldn’t arrive until seven, leaving plenty of time for more intimate activities before they had to start dinner.
He frowned when he found the door to the office closed. She rarely shut the door unless she was working on something confidential, and he tried to respect her privacy. He knew if he had any hope of convincing her to move in with him when her sublease was up, he had to make it clear those boundaries would be respected.
And though they’d been together nearly every night since her return to Chicago three months before, she still insisted on keeping a separate residence. She felt it important for both of them to have space to retreat to—hence his insistence that she have a space in his home to call her own. Hopefully it would help convince her that living together wouldn’t mean the loss of her privacy.
He lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles on the door.
“Come in, Mr. O’Reilly.”
Mr. O’Reilly? He shook his head in confusion. What was she up to?
Then he pushed open the door, and began to grin.
She sat behind her desk, the surface clear of everything except an open notebook. She wore a white blouse with long sleeves, the buttons done up all the way to her neck. Her hair, grown longer in the last few months, was combed neatly back and pinned in place with a black headband, the pale blonde gleaming in the lamplight. Her lips were painted a slick, deep red, and she wore large-framed black glasses perched on the end of her cute little nose.
She knew glasses drove him crazy.
She lifted a hand to wave him in without looking up, all her attention on the notebook in front of her. “Please have a seat.”
He noted with surprise that the sofa that normally sat across from her desk was missing, and in its place was an old-fashioned school desk. The kind with the chair attached to the desktop, the wood scarred and stained from the no doubt hundreds of students who had sat in the chair over the years.
His grin spread over his face as he folded his long frame into the small space and waited for the show to start.
She made him wait almost five minutes before she finally put down her pen and closed the notebook in front of her. She set it aside, then looked up.
“You’re nearly thirty minutes late, Mr. O’Reilly.” She glanced pointedly at her watch, then used one fingertip—the rounded nail painted the same deep red as her lips—to push the glasses further up her nose. “We’re not getting off to a very good start.”
He lifted a brow and slouched in the chair, assuming the devil-may-care attitude he figured the role called for. “Had stuff to do.”
Her brows lifted slightly even as her eyes gleamed with delight. “Really? More important than determining your future here?”
His shrug was insolent, his lip curled into a sneer. “My future is fine. I aced your last test, didn’t I?”
“Your intelligence is not in question, Mr. O’Reilly. Your attitude, however, is a significant problem.”
He sent her a dark grin. “I think you like my attitude.”
A blush rose to her cheeks. “I can assure you I do not, Mr. O’Reilly. You’re disruptive to the class, and disrespectful to me.”
He arched a brow. “All I said was I liked your ass.”
The blush depended. “I’m your teacher, Mr. O’Reilly. Personal remarks, especially those of a—” she swallowed hard. “Sexual nature, are highly inappropriate.”
“I think you like my inappropriate remarks,” he told her in a soft growl, and watched a shiver race over her skin. “Especially the ones of a ‘sexual nature’,” he said, putting air quotes around the words.
She let out a heavy sigh and rose to her feet, heels clicking on the wood floor as she walked around the desk. Her grey pencil skirt was snug right down to her knees, the matching heels making her legs look a mile long. “Mr. O’Reilly, if you’re not going to take this meeting, or your academic future seriously, we can simply end it now. I have better things to do with my time.”
He pushed to his feet to tower over her. “How long are you going to pretend that you’re not hot for me?”
“Mr. O’Reilly!” Shock widened her eyes and parted her lips. “This meeting is over.”
“Good.” He took a step closer. “Then let’s talk about what’s really going on here.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said, mouth pursed primly. She edged back against the desk, her eyes huge behind the lenses of her glasses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. “You’ve been teasing me all year. Walking around in those tight skirts and slut shoes. Bending over the desk so I can see your ass, pushing your tits in my face.”
