Page 17 of Burn for You (Flirting with Forever 3)

Wandering back out to the living room, I pour myself some more—fuck it, it’s Valentine’s Day, right?—then flop down on the other end of the couch. It doesn’t take me more than thirty seconds to realize the chocolate bar Zoey left on my desk at the end of the day is floating around in my purse somewhere, so I lean over and drag the purse into my lap. Dark chocolate goes great with merlot, right? I sift through the contents, finding the bar all the way at the bottom like a delicious buried treasure. I settle back into the couch cushions, kick my feet up and, for the first time in five days, open the Tryst app, chewing nervously on my lip as I do. I feel badly about leaving Prof.M. hanging, but I don’t know what to say to him. I like him a lot, but I’m a little afraid I’m in over my head.

I place a square of decadent chocolate in my mouth and take another sip of wine. I’ll have to remember to thank Zoey. I hadn’t realized when she said she had chocolate, she’d meant the really good kind.

Focusing on my phone now, my brows raise as I realize Prof.M. had indeed given me time to think—right up until this afternoon, in fact. He’d left several messages right in a row about an hour ago.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Hey.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I kind of miss you.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Is that pathetic?

My heart takes off at a gallop because yes, I’ve missed him, too. I press one hand to my chest, right over the mad thumping. I have a little aww moment, then nibble on my lip, wondering what I should say. Mulling over some options, I eat another square of chocolate and have some more wine—only this time it’s more than a sip. I practically chug the entire glass, not sure how to respond to him. Do I want to answer? I mean, this could be the point where I ghost him, but that’s about the bitchiest thing to do to someone who has really been nothing but kind to me. With a sigh, I tap out a quick response and send it, then squeeze my eyes shut, hoping maybe he’s too busy to message me back right now.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: It’s a little strange, but not pathetic. I miss you, too.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I just want to hold you in my arms, like I’ve imagined in my head so many times. Kiss you. Maybe more. ;)

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Well, don’t get all shy now. That’s not what you said you wanted to do to me before …

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Fine. I’ll own up to what I want—if you do.

I’ve typed out something naughty and sent it, just as his response pops up.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: I want to bury my cock inside of you.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’d like to know your name so I know what to scream when you’re making me come.

Oh, shit. I’ve gone and done it now. Damn that merlot. I eye my glass, which is sitting empty again. Yep. Definitely need more now. I pour the remaining wine and take a big gulp.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: That’s my girl.

The smile that hits my face is instantaneous and ridiculously giddy. Okay, time to put the brakes on.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: :) Gotta run. I’ve got some work to do.

Of course, I don’t really have to go anywhere. I just need to not go any further overboard than I already have. Flipping into my text messages, I pull up a long-running group chat with my girlfriends.

Me: I’m in need of more chocolate and more wine. I think I have a situation brewing.

Zoey: Oh shit, I totally forgot to bring you the chocolate.

Zoey: I’m sorry!

Me: Wait, what?

A deep wrinkle forms on my brow. What does she mean she forgot? I’m literally finishing off what she’d left on my desk right now. My lips part and my eyes shift back and forth, trying to think about who else could have left it.

Me: Did any of you leave it for me?

Hadleigh: I was going to give you some from my stash in my classroom, but then I saw you had some on your desk already.

Hadleigh: OMG, a secret admirer left Valentine’s Day chocolate for you?

Hadleigh: Hard swoon. I thought that only happened in Hallmark movies.

Quinn: Wasn’t me, girl, though maybe we single ladies should have thought to have done something for each other.

Madison: Sorry, it wasn’t me either. Gotta run. Shawn’s taking me to dinner.

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