Page 13 of Ward Willing
Sneaking in quickly, I hone in on the single empty seat in the second to last row. Before I can make my way up there, a woman swoops in and claims it. Twisting around, my eyes scan the seats frantically.
The only available seat left is a seat right in the front row.
Fuck.
I quickly sit down and slouch into the chair. Maybe Liam won’t notice that I’m here. There has to be nearly fifty people in this class; the chances of him seeing me are slim, right? I sip my latte and nervously eat my cookie. My stomach growls audibly, and I grimace when I think of the fact that I forgot to eat breakfast again. I’m looking down and dusting the crumbs off my white T-shirt when the class goes quiet. I snap my eyes up only to see Liam sauntering into class.
He’s wearing a white oxford shirt rolled up to his elbows and dark grey, fitted slacks. Instead of dress shoes, he’s wearing brown, lace-up boots, and instead of a tie, his collar is loose and unbuttoned.
“Well, hello professor Ravage,” the woman next to me purrs.
When I look over at her, she’s biting her pen seductively. Something possessive flashes through me at her words, and then I go back to ogling the man I’ve known my whole life.
Because I’m definitely ogling. There’s no other word for what I’m doing.
How could I not? Especially when I know what he’s like when he’s turned on?
I squirm in my seat and push the thoughts away, like always. I have to push them away. It’s something I’ve gotten good at over the last year. He drew a line that night, and I respected his boundaries enough to keep my thoughts to myself.
Though, I’ve never seen him in an academic setting. Never seen the confident presence he so easily exudes to the class, or the sense of purpose and guidance.
It’s annoyingly hot, and I find myself thinking of anything and everything except that night.
It works.
For a minute, at least.
By the time he gets settled, my eyes are wandering over him unabashedly.
His forearms are tanned and muscled, corded with veins from chopping wood and fixing up his old cars. He’s almost never clean-shaven, usually opting to have a few days’ worth of scruff residing along his jaw. His hair is straight and longer on top, usually swept back slightly. It’s peppered with grey, as is his beard, but they’re hardly noticeable in this light. I only know because I’m around him all the time. His eyes are usually soft, making him seem approachable. But I’ve seen them hard and sharp with anger before. His nose is aquiline-shaped–slightly curved and sharp, giving him a regal, noble look. He’s wearing his usual black, round glasses, too, which only enhances thesexy professorlook.
“He’s giving off major BDE,” the girl sitting on my other side mumbles.
My cheeks burn.
Fuck, Zoe. I’m not going to last. You feel too fucking good.
I take every memory of that night and place it in the box I keep locked up unless I’m alone at night in bed. Most of the time, I wish I could lock up his entire existence.
But he was my father’s best friend.
He came to my birthday parties, and I can’t remember my life without him, because he’s been there from day one.
It never happened.
Even so, my stomach flips when his hair falls in front of his forehead, as he looks down at his desk, his large hand splayed over what I assume is the class list.
And god, what that hand is capable of…
Crossing my legs, I watch as Liam turns around and writes his name on the whiteboard, and a murmur goes through the class.
I knowexactlywhat they’re thinking, too.
His ass in those pants is on perfect display. And because his shirt is fitted, his wide back muscles ripple and contract with each movement of his hand on the whiteboard.
I’ve always known Liam is attractive. I thought so when I was a teenager, blushing anytime he was around. I thought so as I got older and started to discover my sexuality. Growing up within the walls of a boarding school didn’t exactly make me a virginal saint–I’d had my fair share of boyfriends and encounters. I know what I like and how I like it. When my parents died and Liam became my guardian, I locked my schoolgirl crush away so tight that I couldn’t find the key if I wanted to.
But then, in Catalina, the cage broke, and I felt myself drawn to him like I’d never been drawn to anyone before.
