Page 36 of Almost Ravaged

“I’m sorry,” she moans. “I wouldn’t ask you for fashion advice, but I’m so nervous and can’t decide. It’s my first official day as a graduate assistant. Please, Ty.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I scrub my hand down my face, forcing my eyes closed. I can’t look away otherwise.

That’s how transfixed I am by the woman in front of me.

I’m torn. I want to tell her to wear the sweater and add a hoodie for good measure just as badly as I want to demand she take it all off right here, right now, and let me see what’s always been mine.

Neither of those answers is suitable for this situation.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been known for being rational.

“The sweater is very ‘future librarian,’” I finally say, “which I know is your usual vibe.”

She rolls her eyes, though her lips twitch like she’s fighting back a smile.

“And it might be cold in the lecture hall,” I reason.

She nods, pressing her lips together, and picks up the garment. “That’s what I thought, too, but it’s only nine, and I already had to turn the AC on.”

Fair point. It’s the first week of September, but the weather isn’t anything like what I expected to find in Northeast Ohio in the fall.

“Just bring the sweater with you.”

Her eyes flit up to meet mine and my heart skips a beat. “And force myself to make a decision on the spot, in the lecture hall, on the day I meet my supervisor for the first time? While simultaneously trying to make a good first impression?”

I bring a fist to my mouth, stifling a laugh.

She notices, and her worried expression turns to one of panic.

Desperate to console her—and still thrown off by her proximity—I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and caress her cheek with the backs of my knuckles.

Softly, I tell her, “You always look good, Sawyer. Everything you do impresses me. You don’t have anything to worry about today.”

She blinks, her eyes suddenly glassy.

A charged energy thrums between us.

I want to lean into it.

I ache for her to lean into me.

But we don’t have time for that now. So I take a step back and shove my hands into my pockets.

“Carry the cardigan to class, then put it on once we get to the building. If you change your mind, there’s no reason you can’t take it off again,” I say, keeping my tone casual in hopes of diluting the moment.

She blinks, then offers me a timid smile. “You’re pretty smart, ya know that?”

Ducking, I shake my head. “We better get going.”

Class doesn’t start until ten, but she wants to arrive early so she can introduce herself to the professor. Apparently, the guy’s been on sabbatical and has been unreachable all summer. Makes sense now, why Sawyer didn’t have to interview for this position. Truth be told, I’ve been skeptical about this arrangement from the beginning and chose to major in marketing so I could keep an eye on her and make sure this professor and assistantship are legitimate.

She doesn’t know that, of course.

Although there’s a good chance Atty is on to me.

Sawyer turns and rifles through her bag, and I try my damnedest not to check out her ass in that skirt.