Page 43 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter thirty-seven

Mercer

I pull the door open with more force than necessary. It’s unfortunate, but the majority of my mental bandwidth is being used to hold back the urge to choreograph an erotic fantasy featuring my graduate assistant on her knees underneath my desk.

“Dean Stalworth.” Shock and a niggle of dread coalesce behind my sternum at the sight of the older man outside my office. He’s wearing his usual scowl, but it’s unlikely it has anything to do with me. “Did we have an appointment I forgot about?”

“No, no.” He peers over his glasses, looking me directly in the eye. “I was hoping to get on your calendar so we could discuss the Harry situation. Figured arranging in person would be easier than via email.” He gives me a knowing look.

Ah. Maybe I wasn’t the only one caught off guard by the new head of the department. I suspected as much, but it’s reassuring to know the dean is on the right side of this situation.

It makes sense now, why he’s standing at my door. All Holt University correspondence can be intercepted or subpoenaed in a court of law, and our IT department uses filters and firewalls not only to ensure our messages are secure but to monitor it.

“Right. Well, I’m currently preparing for class, but I’m free for lunch today or tomorrow.”

“Very good. I’ll meet you back here at eleven thirty?” He raps his knuckles against the doorframe. “It’s probably best if we take this conversation off campus.”

He gives me a nod, a silent farewell, but as he turns, his eyes narrow and his focus shifts over my shoulder. “Do you have a student in there, Mercer?”

I wave him off. “Not a student. Just my regular check-in with my graduate assistant.” I take a step back, revealing Sawyer’s back, which is stick-straight.

“Ms. Davvies,” I murmur, willing her to snap out of her stupor.

She swivels in her seat, her big brown eyes still panicked. I tilt my head slightly, but when she doesn’t get the silent directive, I mouth come here .

She’s on her feet a second later, smoothing her hands down her skirt and striding toward the door.

My blood heats as she approaches. Such a good listener.

“Dean Stalworth, this is Sawyer Davvies, my graduate assistant.”

Like I knew it would, Sawyer’s professional mask snaps into place, and she extends her hand and smiles.

Such a good girl.

That train of thought almost sends me reeling.

Fuck, Mercer. This is not the time .

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I press my back into my office door and nod along as Sawyer chats with the dean about her classes and how she’s liking Holt so far.

After another minute, Stalworth finally excuses himself. I close the door quickly, then lock it for good measure, though I wait until I can no longer hear his retreating footsteps before I turn back to face Sawyer.

Her eyes are wide, the tension rolling off her in waves.

I step forward, reaching for her face once more, moving slowly so she can anticipate my movements.

She doesn’t shy away when I cup her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink and warm to the touch. I hold her steady, my entire focus set on her trembling bottom lip.

“Is your head really okay?” I murmur .

Her jaw ticks, and she drops her gaze.

“Sawyer,” I scold.

Her eyes snap back up, full of a renewed intensity. “No. I mean, yes. I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” She swallows, the motion drawing my attention to the delicate expanse of her throat.

“You’re flushed.” I skim my thumbs over the pink splotches on her cheeks.

She bats at my hands halfheartedly and turns away.

I correct her, gripping her jaw and guiding her face forward once more, forcing her to focus on me. “Why are you flushed?”

She peers up at me through her lashes, though she looks away again quickly.

I wait for her response. I can be patient. Or I can push. Whatever will encourage her to open up and bring back the energy that zipped between us before the dean knocked on my door.

Honey-brown eyes meet mine once more. “I just… I’m nervous, okay?”

“Nervous?” I press.

There are two ways this could go.

One possibility is so tempting, so highly desirable, that I’m willing to push and push and push to see whether I can get us to that point.

“Yes.” She grips my wrist but doesn’t remove my hand from her face. “You make me nervous.”

I rub my thumb back and forth, brushing over the freckles sprinkled on her cheek.

Her grip tightens, each finger pressing into my forearm.

I inch forward, only stopping when all I can see is her.

Who am I fucking kidding?

When this woman is in the room, all I see is her.

I study her, noting how her breathing picks up and her chest flushes an even deeper shade of pink under my assessment.

I wait, giving her all my focus, letting the heady tension between us build back up and giving her ample opportunity to pull back or push me away.

She shifts closer in small increments, each movement a spark of hope, a sign that what I’m feeling isn’t one-sided. That she’s just as eager as I am to lean all the way in.

She squeezes my arm, her eyes darting between mine as her chest rises and falls in rapid succession.

Fuck it .

If she doesn’t want this, she’ll have to be the one who walks away.

“Don’t look at me like that, Ms. Davvies.” I tighten my hold on her chin momentarily before moving my hand to cup the back of her head.

She smiles slyly, no doubt noting the regression, my use of Ms. Davvies , a delicious trouble flaring in her eyes. “Don’t look at you like what, Professor Eden?”

Weaving my fingers into the hair at her nape, I tug gently, forcing her to tip her head back and expose her neck. “Like you want me to put you back on your knees below this desk and find another use for that smart mouth.”

She gasps, her pupils eclipsing her irises almost completely.

I run my nose along the hollow of her throat. Though before I go further, I pull back, giving her one last chance to back out.

Back out, she does not.

Sawyer doubles down, the saucy minx, sinking her teeth into her lush bottom lip and staring up at me with bedroom eyes.

I dive back in, feinting toward her mouth but bringing my lips to her ear instead.

“You’re such a fucking nuisance.”

Her delectable scent—sweet vanilla and crisp apple—damn near knocks me on my ass.

“You’ve been a nuisance since the moment you arrived on this campus.” I nip at her earlobe. “You’ve disrupted everything. You practically turned my world upside down overnight.”

It’s the truth.

In the span of a few weeks, I went from loathing her existence to eagerly anticipating every comment, every interaction, every moment she graces me with her presence.

She consumes my thoughts. On days I don’t see her, I’m a cantankerous bastard—a junkie desperate for his next hit.

“What are you going to do about it, Professor?”

My blood heats further. Fuck, that sultry tone might be the death of me. “I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do, Little Nuisance.” I pull back, and when I’m certain she’s focused on me, I lick my lips. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

Her nostrils flare and her spine straightens. She’s indignant, just like I knew she’d be .

She opens her mouth to sass back, but I bring one finger to her lips, silencing her.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” I repeat. “But I’m not going to stop you if you kiss me.”

She doesn’t even hesitate. Doesn’t think it through. Doesn’t waver. She grasps my nape and takes full control, pulling my face down to meet hers.

Soft, plump lips press against mine, followed by the tip of her slick tongue seeking entrance. I open for her, kissing her back with just as much fervor.

Our mouths collide, passion exploding between us as we claw at each other. Her fingers dig into my scalp, urging me on.

Her wide, luscious hips feel like heaven in my hands. For weeks I’ve dreamed about cherishing these curves, and suddenly, it’s my reality.

I feed her my tongue, dipping into her mouth and savoring the sweet taste of coffee and mint, and guide her to my desk chair.

But before I can ease her into it, she breaks away and skirts around me so our positions are switched. Chest heaving, she smirks and shoves me into the seat.

Then she’s on my lap, straddling me.

I drag my hands up the backs of her thighs and squeeze. I nearly black out at the feel of her warm, soft skin. Quickly, I move them to safer territory, cupping her ass over her skirt instead. I squeeze again, driving her body forward with the urgency and possessiveness of a man obsessed.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” I praise between kisses.

With a whimper, she rolls her hips, brushing the apex of her thighs against the raging hardness behind my fly. Then she’s diving in for more, her tongue in my mouth, stroking mine, her kisses drugging, hypnotizing. Her hips dance in my lap, grinding with abandon.

“We have to stop.” I bracket her waist and squeeze for emphasis.

She releases my mouth and pulls back. The move causes her copper tresses to fall forward so her hair frames our faces.

“What if I don’t want to stop?” She rubs the tip of her nose against mine, then does a slow, languid roll of her hips that sends ravenous need through my cock.

“Such a fucking nuisance.” I nip at her lips and slide my hands up the length of her spine. When I reach her shoulders, I wrap my arms around her and guide her back down .

She wiggles out of my hold before our bodies fully connect, slipping off my lap and slinking to the floor.

“What are you doing?” I demand, instantly missing her heat and softness.

“Crawling under the desk and getting back on my knees like you wanted, Professor.”

My cock pulsates in response to the taunt. Jesus H.

Fingers trailing down my thighs, she positions herself between my legs.

“Look at you,” I praise, stroking her cheek. “On your knees for me, lips swollen, your inner thighs probably drenched from the way you’ve been grinding in my lap.”

Her pupils blow out, and her breathing stutters.