Page 15 of Snowed in with the Professor

I was worried about going to class, at seeing Seth after the weekend, after what he’d said to me, what I’d admitted to him… and what we’d done over the phone.

I sat in my car in the parking lot, staring at the front entrance to the Stein Building, where Professor Baldwin stood, where I’d have to confront him and my actual emotions. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but it felt wildly improper and quick, especially after what all had transpired.

This all seemed like a dream.

All Sunday I had labored on my paper, one that wasn’t due for weeks. But I needed to keep myself occupied to keep my mind off other things, particularly how I was going to confront Seth.

I clutched the folder in my fingers, the documents within things I’d worked painstakingly on. I wanted it to be perfect; I wanted it to show how hard I’d worked.

Hell, I wanted it to show that my mind wasn’t continuously focused with Seth.

Taking a big breath, I opened the driver’s side door, climbed out, and reached inside to retrieve my bag. Once the strap was on my shoulders, I walked to the building and stepped inside.

I had hours until his class, but I wanted to drop this off before then, to maybe talk with him about everything. I wanted to make things less awkward, if possible.

Although I knew that was me unable to control myself.

Professor Baldwin was always cool and collected, always looked like he had his shit together.

Me, on the other hand, I felt like I was rushing around like a chicken with my head chopped off.

I slowed as I neared his office, the door shut, his name imprinted into the frosted glass. My heart was beating, and I was starting to breathe quicker, to sweat. I didn’t know how long I stood there, but it seemed like forever.

I finally lifted my hand and brought my knuckles down on the glass a couple times. I took a step away, students going back and forth behind me, ignorant to what I had with Professor Baldwin. I looked to the left, then to the right, wondering if they knew, if they could see how nervous I was.

Could they argue that what we were doing wasn’t allowed?

“Come in,” he stated in that deep timbre of his, his voice penetrating through the wood and glass and spearing right into me.

I felt an involuntary chill rush up my spine.

I grasped the doorknob and spun it, drawing open the door and stepping inside. The door was left half open behind me as I stood there, staring at him as he sat behind his desk. He looked up at me, his black gaze entering mine, the need on his face quick.

“Grace,” he all but snarled.

He leaned back in his leather chair, putting his arms beside him, and I couldn’t help but glance down at how he had his shirt sleeves rolled up, his strong, tanned forearms on display.

That was a weakness… muscular forearms that made me feel so feminine.

“Close the door behind you.” The order was filled with pleasure, and I found myself reaching behind me without breaking his gaze, shutting it, and taking a big breath in.

For long moments I just stood there, neither one of us saying anything, the heat in the room suddenly becoming sweltering. I pictured me lying in bed while I spoke to him, as I caressed myself and got off.

That had been something I’d never done before, but I knew I wanted to do more of it with Seth.

I wanted to do so much more.

What was I supposed to say?

Was I meant to pretend like this was a student and teacher relationship when it was anything but?

I curled my fingers firmly around the folder and walked the few steps that were required to go to his desk. He didn’t say anything as he watched me place the folder down in front of him. Then I took a step back, stroking my hand up and down my thigh.

He lowered his gaze to watch the act, then lifted his attention back up to look at me.

“You’re nervous.” He stated it quietly, without framing it like a question.

Of course, I was, yet he seemed so composed.

“I wanted to hand in my paper in person.”

God, it was so hot in his office.

“It’s not due for weeks, Grace.”

I gulped and nodded. My throat was so dry and tight. “I worked on it all Sunday to keep busy.”

Why did I admit that?

“Keep busy?” He lifted a brow and kept his focus trained right on me.

Before I could answer, he stood and came towards me. There was only a couple of feet between us now, his large figure reclining against the side of the desk, his arms crossed over his powerful chest. I felt the oxygen being pulled right out of me from the sight of him.

“Why don’t you tell me why you had to keep busy, Grace?” He lifted a brow, an inquisitive expression on his face, but also one of desire.

He knew exactly why I had to remain busy, knowing that my thoughts had been consumed by him and how he made me feel. I could see the truth etched on his face.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself. I was so inexperienced in this circumstance… in anything sexual, if I was being truly honest.

Here was my professor, somebody I was in love with, someone who had gotten me off and hadn’t even touched me, and I had no idea how to explain any of this. I didn’t even know how to digest it myself.

He stretched out, and I froze, felt his fingertips brush over the side of my neck as he brushed the hair off my shoulder. I felt like this was something he enjoyed doing, as if he drew pleasure from it as much as I did.

“Tell me, Grace.” His voice was so low and deep, wanting me to answer him, to be honest.

“I had to keep busy because all I could think about was you.” I could’ve slapped my hand over my mouth, the words gushing from me before I could fully understand that they’d come out. But they hung between us, the truth or partially so—not possible to be taken back.

I heard this deep groan from him and watched as he pushed off his desk, taking a stride toward me. I could’ve stretched out and curled my hands around his shirt, pulled him closer to me, stood up on my toes and forced my kiss to his.

That’s what I truly wanted to do.

Instead, I stood still.

“Were you thinking about you and me, how you felt when we were on the phone, the dirty things I was telling you to do to yourself?”

I found myself nodding, not wanting to lie to him. What good would that do anyway? I wanted to be truthful, wanted to tell him that I was in love with him.

Maybe I just wanted to come out and say it? Maybe then he’d see the depth of how I felt? Maybe then he’d understand if he got started with me it wouldn’t just be this one-time thing.

But when I gazed into his eyes, repeated his words in my thoughts, I realized this wasn’t simply a one-off for him. Maybe he wanted me the same way I wanted him? I wouldn’t know until I asked him, until I told him.

I felt the words swell up in my throat, sit on the tip of my tongue. But I was terrified, worried that uttering something so deep and meaningful might ruin everything. I didn’t want it to happen, especially since I’d finally obtained the object of my devotion.

He took another step toward me, placing his hand behind my neck, his body heat spearing into mine.

I had my hand curled tightly around the strap of my bag, everything else melting away save this one moment.

And then he started advancing forward, using his body to force me move backward.

It wasn’t long before I felt the wall block my retreat, and felt his fingers snake around the strap of my bag and yank it off my shoulder.

He laid it down beside my feet, then traced his fingers up the outside of my thigh, landing them on the hem of my skirt. Tingles surged throughout my entire body, and my heart hammered against my ribs.

I didn’t know what he had planned, but I was so ready for it.

“Was that the first time you’ve gotten yourself off by listening to someone talk dirty to you?”

I nodded; my words caught in my throat.

“Good.” He lowered his eyes to my mouth, and I found myself licking my lips. “If I’m being completely honest, the very thought of another man even looking in your direction sends me into a rage.” His eyes lowered to half-mast, and I felt myself becoming wetter.

I clamped my thighs together, the skirt I wore pressing against my flesh, my body ultrasensitive in a matter of seconds. I held my breath.

Could I really be so honest with him?

Yes.

I needed to be.

“I’ve never been with a man,” I muttered gently. “I’ve never done what we did over the phone.” He made a low sound of appreciation and took a step forward. I felt his erection pushing into my belly, a hot, hard length that had a small gasp leaving me.

He felt gigantic beneath his trousers, so big I honestly doubted if he’d fit inside of me.

He had his hands uncomfortably close to the edge of my skirt, his fingertips grazing my exposed skin. I guess part of me had wished something like this would happen when I got to his office, and so I’d dressed in something that would provide him easy access.

I felt so dizzy, every erogenous zone in my body alive.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

I nodded, the breath rushing out of me in quick pants.

“Tell me where you want me to touch you then, Grace.”

God, I didn’t believe I could actually say the words. Never had I been so brash and brazen, so upfront with my demands and needs. But with Seth I felt those walls crumbling, the need to be entirely open with him essential to me.

So, I reached between our bodies and held his strong wrist, pushing his hand between my thighs, up and under my skirt till his fingers lay right against the soft fabric of my cotton underwear. I heard him take a strong breath in; then this slow, almost animalistic sound left him.

The sight of his pupils dilating, the black eating up the dark brown color, threw my pulse into overdrive.

As he stared at me, I felt him brush his fingers across my pussy, the underwear a poor pretense for a barrier. “Fuck, you’re so damn wet for me. These little underpants are drenched clean through, Grace.”