Chapter Twenty
Darren
Her eyes roam over me, settling on my lips. She leans in, her mouth hovering over mine. I detect a glint of mischief flickering deep within her eyes. Without missing a beat, my cock inflates with anticipation, the shameless fucker. She slowly starts to inch forward, causing me to swiftly cover my mouth with my hand.
She pulls back, a frown pulling at her lips. "You don't want to kiss me?"
On a sigh, I ruffle a hand through my hair. "I do. Believe me; I do. But I haven't brushed my teeth yet."
Her eyebrows draw together. "I don't care."
"But I do. I don't want to kiss you knowing that my mouth tastes like arse."
"Alyssa, you have a phone call from a Mr. Chambers!" Mama Lance hollers, stepping onto the patio. She holds out Alyssa's cell, waiting for her daughter to grab it.
Alyssa sashays her sexy ass onto the patio, snatches her mobile from her mother's hand, and brings it up to her ear. "Hello?"
I'm still lounging in the grass as I try to nonchalantly adjust my hard-on, hoping to make it less noticeable. It is pointless since I'm wearing joggers; I know this. The outline of my erection is so prominent, it can be seen from a bloody helicopter. But I'm not just going to loaf around with nothing to do as I try to eavesdrop on Alyssa's conversation. I should appear like I'm busy doing something. Even if, to the untrained eye, it looks like I'm whacking off.
Despite my best attempt, I can only make out her side of the conversation.
"A meeting?" She takes a beat. "This afternoon? Sure, I'll be there. Alright, see you then. Bye."
Crap! I forgot all about the Welcome Back Meeting today.
"Hey, Darren, heads up!" Alyssa calls out. I turn my head. Oh, shite! Her mobile is barreling toward me as it spins in the sky. It thumps against my bare chest. Damn, she's got quite an arm on her.
"Put your number in," she commands as she twirls a lock of her hair around her finger.
I do as she requests, punching in my number before I hand the mobile back to her. "Here you are."
"Thank you. Now, where were we?" Her eyebrows bounce suggestively as she smiles.
I quickly stand up and arch my thumb behind me, in the direction of the patio door. "I've actually got to run. I've got to go home, feed Wyatt, and get ready for our meeting this afternoon."
I can tell she's hurt by the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but her smile doesn't falter. "Alright then, I'll see you at the meeting."
The disappointed look fades away, causing a more serious one to take its place. "We should probably keep our distance at the meeting. I think that's the best way to dispel the rumors about our beach rendezvous. If we are going to do this, Darren, I don’t want to be in any more articles.”
I nod sharply, unsure of what the importance of staying out of the paper is. But by her firm tone, I can tell that is non-negotiable.
"Good idea. But until then…" My voice trails off as I lean forward and plant a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you soon."
* * *
Later that afternoon, I'm sitting in one of the two spherical classrooms at SHU, waiting for President Mills to start the meeting. There is chatter all around me as my colleagues catch up on what they did during the two-week timespan between the semesters and mingle with one another. I remain silent, surveying the room.
President Mills is setting up in the middle of the classroom, placing what's probably useless papers he pretends are important on the desk in front of him. He's in the middle of straightening his lackluster tie when someone taps me on the shoulder from behind. I crane my neck around to see who it is.
"Darren, it's so nice to see you again. How was your break?" Mrs. Wilkinson asks, her voice hoarse and high-pitched.
"It was good, Mrs. Wilkinson. I caught up on some reading." I keep my reply short and sweet. I don't want this conversation with her to drag on like they usually do.
She walks down the aisle and sits next to me. I turn my gaze forward and scan the crowd of faces, searching for Alyssa.
Mrs. Wilkinson swats my shoulder. "You English professors always have your nose in a book. Now, how many times do I have to tell you? You are not one of my students anymore, Darren. You can call me Barbara."
I shake my head and tug my lips into a smile. "With all due respect, Mrs. Wilkinson. That's never going to happen."
She sighs. "Fair enough. So, did you take Wyatt running? How old is he now? Did you go to the beach?"
That last part catches my attention, causing me to shift my gaze back toward her. I quirk my brow. "Wyatt and I go running every morning. He absolutely loves it. We've been running together since he was a young pup. He's five now; can you believe it?"
I deliberately choose to ignore answering her last question, in fear that she is trying to switch our topic of conversation to the article. That will not be happening because I refuse to answer any questions regarding the article, the beach, Alyssa, the Lances, or that blasted picture in the Gazette.
"He's five already? I remember when you just got him. Right after you and Alyssa broke up, yeah?" The tension builds in my shoulders. This is strike two. I never knew she was this relentless.
"Uh-huh," I answer quickly, hoping she will take the hint as I brush her off.
"It must be hard with her back in town, considering just how close you two were. Need I remind you that I had a blue ribbon tied around my mailbox? 'Twas there for an entire year after she left. The darned thing turned white." She takes a minute to laugh before she proceeds. "Rumor has it that you and Alyssa have rekindled your relationship."
I raise a brow in question. "Who told you that?"
She looks confused as a dazed expression etches itself in her features. "Why, I read about it in the paper."
I shake my head. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but Alyssa and I haven't rekindled anything."
She shakes her head, causing the loose-skin on her chin to wiggle like a turkey's. "But I saw a picture of you two kissing. How do you explain that?"
Here we go; time to set this straight.
I release a frustrated sigh. "I ran into her on the beach the other day. We both decided we were over each other and we both moved on a long time ago. We kissed once, just to reassure ourselves that the spark we once shared was gone. Everything else you read or heard is completely false."
"Oh, my. What a shame. You two used to be so in love. It was glorious." She sighs in sorrow. "I always thought you two would get married and have a gazillion babies because you guys couldn't keep your hands off each other. You two were supposed to be like Romeo and Juliet. A love that lasts forever."
"You do realize that they both died tragically, right?" I scoff.
She waves a dismissive hand in the air. "Potato, sweet potato. Same thing."
"They're actually not the—” I'm interrupted by my mobile, which vibrates in my pocket. I hold up a finger to Mrs. Wilkinson. "Excuse me."
She shifts her position, allowing her to talk to Alicia Dobbles, aka the poor woman who is sitting to the right of Wilkinson.
"Alicia, hi!" Mrs. Wilkinson cheers.
I reach into the front pocket of my jeans and retrieve my mobile. I swipe open the screen to see a text from an unknown number, which I assume belongs to Alyssa.
Alyssa: Wilkinson is still alive? What is she five-hundred now?
Darren: Five-hundred and six actually. Where are you?
Alyssa: Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
As both a native Englishman and an English professor, I'd recognize this quote from anywhere. It's from Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. I just don't see how it's relevant to my question. I let my eyes wander the room, scanning for any clue as to Alyssa's whereabouts. There she is! She's on the whole other side of the classroom, in the last row, directly in front of a Julius Caesar poster.
Darren: Clever and witty. I just may have to keep you.
Alyssa: Whoa! Calm yourself,
Union Jack. We wouldn't want Mrs. Wilkinson to think that rod you're sporting is for her.
Darren: No rod yet. But don't worry; that can easily be remedied.
Alyssa: You mean I just quoted Shakespeare flawlessly, and it didn't arouse you? What kind of British English professor are you? You are betraying your people…and your queen.
Darren: You leave her majesty out of this.
Alyssa: No way, she's not my queen.
I'm just about to reply to her text when President Mills clears his throat and starts to speak. "Welcome back to another exciting semester here at SHU."
The room erupts into thunderous applause; I am not one of the participators. Mills raises a hand, and the room falls silent again. "I appreciate the enthusiasm. Bet let's get down to business. As you all may have heard, Professor Dennis Bradbury retired. His replacement is a Sandy Heights native, Miss Alyssa Lance."
He searches the faces in the crowd, looking for her. I stare right at her as she slouches down in her chair, not wanting to be found. He continues speaking when he fails to find her. "Anyway, she will be teaching 16th and 17th-century history under department head, Dean Chambers."
President Mills is still talking, but I'm no longer paying attention. I'd much rather focus all my attention on the sexy as fuck brunette sitting in front of the Julius Caesar poster. My cock kicks against the fly of my jeans, probably wanting to strangle me for not kissing her this morning. She sucks on her bottom lip, her eyes dragging down the length of me, making me feel perpetually harder. Apparently, that's possible.
I'm so fucking jealous. I want to be the one sucking on that plump lip of hers. Or her tits. Christ, I'd give anything to lavish them with my tongue. Fuck. I. Want. Her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Aly
It takes every fiber of my being to restrain from slipping my hand under my lace panties and rolling my marble while Darren watches me. To say his stare is intense would be a drastic understatement. It's a blazing inferno setting my skin, and my loins, on fire.
I wave a hand in front of my face in an attempt to fan myself. It doesn't work. This flame is internal, not external. It started from deep within my core. I clench my thighs together as they start to tingle.
Darren sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, not losing eye contact with me. I clench my thighs tighter in response. He grins maliciously as he winks, both actions full of dirty intentions and promises. My heart skips a beat, and my hands grow clammy from my increased body temperature. How the hell can one person be this damn sexy? It's not right!
President Mills is still yapping about something. Can they all really not sense the sexual tension lingering in the room? I can practically cut it with a knife. I mean, a room full of all these intelligent professors, and nobody has noticed that Darren and I have been eye-fucking each other this whole damn time?
"And with that being said, this concludes our meeting. I wish you all the best of luck with this new semester." President Mills just spoke the magic words. My phone, which is sitting on my lap, alerts me to a new message.
Darren: Can I meet you back at your place? I still need to get a new mattress.
Alyssa: Somebody's being presumptuous.
Darren: Why wouldn't I be presumptuous? I saw how you were looking at me.
Alyssa: That's a two-way street, Union Jack.
Darren: Seriously, Alyssa. I want to kiss you again. Please, let me.
Alyssa: Meet me on the patio in thirty minutes. I'll leave the back gate unlocked.
Darren: See you then.
My heart is thumping rapidly in my chest. It's as if I'm a young teenager sneaking her boyfriend into her house. Is that what he is now, my boyfriend? We've talked about giving us another try, but we didn't say much more than that. I guess those are just details we will work out later because right now I'm too wound up to think straight. I've only got one thing on my mind, and that's relieving this ache between my legs.
* * *
As promised, I unlock the gate in the backyard. Although I'm not a fan of this incognito James Bond spy crap, it's necessary for us to keep a low profile. In Sandy Heights, everybody is famous. It doesn't matter who you are or what you do for a living; Ms. Abney will hunt you down and expose your deepest, darkest secrets. She is the town's very own paparazzo. Since I’ve experienced first-hand what damage a newspaper can cause, and our relationship, or whatever we are calling this thing, is still so new, it's better to stay under the radar for a little while.
I search the house for any signs of my mother, calling out her name as I do so. "Mom, are you here?"
It isn't until I enter the kitchen that I see the note on the fridge.
Alyssa,
Baby Jack isn't feeling so well. I think he has his first cold, but I'm taking him to the doctor to be sure. Hannah and Logan are freaking out…BIG TIME! I'll probably stay over there tonight to help them get through it. It's never easy when your kid gets sick, especially the very first time. I should be back tomorrow morning. Have a good night.
Love always,
Mom
Aw, I hope my nephew feels better soon. The common cold is a bitch! I can't even imagine how awful it is the very first time you catch it.
BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ! My phone vibrates against the granite countertop of the kitchen island, begging for my attention. I slide on over to check the screen. Three words. Three glorious words. That's all it takes to make butterflies swarm in my stomach, my cheeks fluster, and my heart flutter. On my way.
Knowing I don't have a lot of time before he gets here, I sprint to the guest bathroom, nearly killing myself as my socks slide across the wood floor and I slam my hip into a wall. That's gonna leave a mark, but I'll ignore it for now and deal with the bruise later. When I regain my composure, I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My hair is slipped up into a messy bun. By messy bun, I do mean messy bun. Not one of those drop-dead gorgeous buns that looks like it took zero effort to create when in reality it took about forty-five minutes to get it to look that good. Nope, that kind of bun is not on my head. Instead, I have an actual messy bun, the kind that's lopsided, disproportionate, and has numerous stray hairs poking out of it. It looks like a frickin' porcupine is resting atop my head right now. Not the most attractive hairstyle, but I don't have enough time to fix it.
My clothes aren't very sexy either. When I got home from the meeting, I slipped into a baggy white Bugs Bunny T-shirt that has a hole underneath the neckline, and a pair of burgundy yoga pants. As the shirt conceals my breasts and hides any form of cleavage underneath its scoop neckline, the yoga pants accentuate my ass and hips, making the deadly duo look damn good.
While my clothes aren't the most attractive, I made sure that my undergarments are the fancy shit from Victoria's Secret. Knowing that Darren's favorite color is red, or at least used to be red, I made sure to wear my matching red lace bra and panty set.
Looking at my reflection, I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. It's been five years since I last had sex. Hopefully, it's just like riding a bike. I know that's the saying, but I don't like it. Mainly because my father never did get around to teaching me how to ride a bike. So, I don't care much for that analogy. So hopefully it's just like swimming in a pool. There, I like that one much better.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! The sound echoes throughout the empty house, causing me to jump. I follow the sound, exiting the guest bathroom as it leads me toward the sliding glass door. My heart leaps into my throat when I see him with that smug look on his face.
He looks so damn sexy in his snug dark-blue jeans and fitted white T-shirt, both of which accentuate his strong, chiseled physique. I can't wait to trace my hands over every muscle and watch them ripple under my touch.
With a quick pull, I slide open the door that separates us. He doesn't miss a beat, closing it behind him as he snakes his arm around my waist and tugs me into his hard, muscular body. When our bodies are pressed together, he spins me around, his body weight pin
ning me against the glass door. I place my hands on his chest, fisting his shirt as he slants his mouth down for the kiss.
Our lips meet. He kisses me slowly. Deeply. As if he's savoring every precious moment of having his lips on mine. I part my lips, granting him the invitation he didn't yet ask for. He takes it, sliding his tongue in my mouth. The kiss deepens with each meticulous swipe of his tongue. He rests his hands on my cheeks, framing my face as he skims my bottom lip with his tongue. I moan into his mouth, and he swallows it.
Without breaking our connection, Darren slides his right hand into my hair and tugs. I yelp from the tingling sensation flowing down my scalp. With another quick tug, Darren yanks my messy bun free. My hair falls like a curtain, covering my now-pebbled nipples.
He grinds his cock against my sex, the mere friction driving me insane.
"Don't fucking stop," I murmur around his tongue.
I yank on his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, but it's no use. Our bodies cannot physically get any closer than they already are. Darren rubs his erection against me again. Even through his jeans and my yoga pants, I'm on the verge of a release. God, how is that even possible? Can he actually make me come fully-clothed?
His hands slide down my shoulders and move my curtain of hair out of their way. Despite the baggy shirt, they find my breasts, pinching my nipples as Darren circles his hips, allowing his cock to grind up against me just right. I rip my mouth off his and throw my head back.
SMACK! It collides against the sliding glass door, causing my head to throb, but I'm on the verge of a sweet release, so I currently don't care.
"Oh, fuck," I scream out as I come undone. Yes, evidently it is fucking possible to have an orgasm while fully-clothed.
My legs grow weak from the pleasure. No longer able to support me, they give-out, sending me sliding down the glass. Swiftly, Darren grabs my waist and steadies me.
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