Page 149 of Ward Willing
The bartender looks between us for a minute before nodding once. When I let my gaze wander down to Zoe, she’s watching me with a hooded expression.
“No alcohol for you?” she asks innocently.
I shake my head. “I have a one drink rule whenever I bring someone back to my room.”
Zoe’s mouth twitches, but to her credit, she doesn’t laugh. “That’s very presumptuous of you, Professor Ravage.”
As my eyes bore into hers, I delight in seeing the way her chest becomes flushed—in the way she’s taking rapid, shallow breaths. If her pupils weren’t so dark, I’d know she was aroused by the tint of her olive skin.
I lean down to murmur in her ear. “It’s hard not to be presumptuous when you’re wearing a dress like that. Plus, I like to be in control, and that requires a certain amount of… mental clarity,” I add, letting my voice get low and growly just the way I know she likes it.
“Why the water?” she asks, her voice breathless.
“To keep you hydrated.”
“Sounds very controlling,” she retorts. “I don’t remember you being this controlling as a professor.”
I chuckle. “Yes, well, I don’t tend to fuck former students.”
She smirks. “You’re so confident you can have me, then?”
I step closer so that she has no choice but to crane her neck up to look at me. “Oh, I have no doubt in my mind.” The bartender sets our waters down. “Drink up, Ms. Arma.”
Zoe quickly drinks the entire glass before setting it down. “I don’t know if I need that second drink. Something tells me I’ll need some of that…mental clarity,” she adds, giving me a look that makes my cock twitch in my pants.
I place some money on the bar, smiling and holding my hand out. “Shall we?”
Zoe places her hand in mine, and once I wrap my fingers around hers, I pull her off the barstool and through the bar.
“Do you have a coat?” I ask once we get to the door.
She shakes her head shyly–all a part of the game.
I shrug my suit jacket off and place it around her shoulders. It’s not winter yet in the city, but if last year is any indication, it’s way too cold to be walking around with bare shoulders.
“Come on. I’m staying a few blocks away.”
I don’t let go of her hand as we walk down the park side of 5th avenue. The cacophony of taxi horns, cyclists, and tourists lining up to take pictures is a familiar one now, but I continue our little game as we walk.
“Do you live in the city now?” I ask.
Zoe nods. “I do. I’ve been here for about eighteen months.”
I hum in response. “Interesting how we both seem to have ended up on the opposite side of the country. Do you like it here?”
“I love it,” she gushes, and I know she’s not playing around now. “It feels like I always should’ve been living here–and it’s the first place that feels like it’s all mine. Plus, being a writer in the city is such a novelty.”
I chuckle. “It certainly is.”
“Did you ever publish your book?” she asks.
I nod. “I did. Two, actually, since you took my class.”
“Wow. Congratulations.”
A minute later, I pull her across the street to the black and gold entrance of The Plaza.
“Wow, they must pay you well at your new job,” she murmurs, looking around as if we don’t come here a few times a year.
