Page 47 of His to Teach
“You’re the one who’s constantly telling me to live a little. To not put all my focus on studying. To have a life. And now you’re telling me to worrymoreabout school?”
She holds up her hands. “Harper, I think it’s awesome that you’re letting yourself be more open to this stuff. I really do. And I am so happy you got laid last night.” I snort out a laugh in spite of my annoyance. She grins back. “You totally needed it.” Then her face grows more serious. “I just don’t want you to let this guy eclipse everything else you have going in your life. It’s totally easy to let that happen when we’re talking about blow-your-mind sex.”
I nod. If I’m honest with myself, she isn’t saying anything that I wasn’t already worrying about this morning.
“I’m going to talk to him,” I tell her, trying to make my voice sound more confident than I feel. “I promise.”
She watches me for a long time before she finally smiles, leaning back in her chair. “I know you will, Harp. You’re the girl who always has her shit together.”
I manage to smile at that, even if it’s a little weak. The girl who always has her shit together. Sure.
NATE
Dropping Harper off the next morning goes against every single instinct in my body. I’m struck with the overwhelming—and completely insane—desire to keep her right there in my house. Where I can see her and talk to her and fuck her whenever I want. And not just for the rest of the weekend—all the time.
Which is so far out of bounds I can’t even wrap my mind around it. This woman does something to me, makes me desire things that I know don’t work, that I know I’m incapable of.
So I ignore all of those instincts and I take her home after breakfast, just like I told her I would. And when my thoughts consistently stray to memories of our night together, the way she had so perfectly submitted herself to me, the way it had felt to be inside her, I call Philip and convince him to meet me at our tennis club, knowing I need to burn off some energy if I have any hope of stopping myself from driving to her apartment and fucking her for the rest of the day.
Philip, of course, is exactly the wrong person to spend time with when my brain is so consumed. The cocky bastard is way too perceptive. And not at all known for his restraint.
“I take it things went poorly last night,” he asks, the moment he lays eyes on me.
I scowl. “Why on earth would you say that?”
His eyebrows go up the slightest bit. “You seem quite…frustrated.”
“It went fine,” I snap, grabbing a towel and marching out to the courts.
I’m not at all surprised when he doesn’t drop it. “You took this woman home. I can’t help but observe how out of character that is for you.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Can you just drop the shrink thing? It doesn’t suit you.”
He watches me for a long moment before shrugging. “If you insist.”
We play hard, as I knew we would. We’re both way too competitive to take it easy on each other. I’m glad for the sweat that drips down my back, for the burn in my muscles as I lunge for ball after ball. This is just the kind of distraction that I need today. By the time we finish and hit the showers, my brain is blissfully silent, the all-consuming desire for what I can’t have finally muted.
And then Philip has to go and ruin it. “How do you plan to handle things this week?” he asks over a post-match scotch in the club’s lounge.
“Handle what, exactly?”
He must miss the warning in my voice because he plows ahead. “Your work. With this girl constantly underfoot.”
A flash of anger rushes through me. “You make her sound like some annoying child. She isn’t underfoot. She’s a graduate student who works incredibly hard and—” I cut off when I see his smug grin. “What?”
“Awfully protective, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off.” He chuckles, lifting his glass to his lips. “Look,” I continue. “I can handle it, okay? I can be professional.”
“Can she?”
I glare at him. “Yes.”
“Like I said,” he murmurs. “Awfully protective.”
As soon as I see her on Monday, I know that he was right to warn me. She’s dressed as she usually is—jeans and a sweater. Both of which cling to her curves, making me long to run my hands over her ass. I wonder if it’s still red from my hand.
Fuck. I cannot be thinking things like that at work.
