by R. C. Martin
“Are you staying?” she asks, her voice soft and low.
I look at her from over my shoulder, curious to know what she’s thinking, but smart enough to know that now might not be the time to ask. Besides, there’s another question still on the table. “Are you saying yes?”
She stares into my eyes for a moment before she replies, “I don’t know.”
It’s the first time tonight that she hasn’t said no and I don’t even try to hide my smirk.
“Then I’m not going anywhere, doll face.”
She nods once and then lays down, turning her back to me. “I have to get some sleep. I have work in the morning. Would you mind shutting off the light?”
I reach for her bedside lamp and click it off before turning towards her. I don’t even think twice about pulling her into my arms. When her back makes contact with my chest, I feel her exhalation as she relaxes against me. I don’t know what her deal is, but after tonight, my guess is that our age difference isn’t the only thing that’s making her so resistant. It’s something bigger. Something scarier. But holding her in my arms right now—I know whatever is holding her back is not as daunting as what I feel in this moment.
I want her. More than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time.
HER ALARM CLOCK sounds at a quarter after six. She groans before she reaches over me to smack the snooze button. I chuckle, still half asleep, when she plops down on top of me.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” she grumbles. “This day is going to suck ass and it’s all your fault.”
Holy shit. I love the way her voice sounds when she wakes up.
“I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”
“Shut up,” she mutters. She tries to roll away from me but I lock her in my arms and she gives up before falling back asleep.
Ten minutes later, when her alarm goes off again, she doesn’t move. Deciding another ten minutes of sleep won’t hurt, I hit the snooze button. The last thing I want to do is get up, but now that my body has registered that it’s morning, I’ve got to piss. I slide out from underneath Millie, careful not to wake her, and then jump into my boxers before heading to the bathroom. Before I even notice that the door is shut, it’s being opened and all I see is Sarah wrapped in a towel.
“Fuck—sorry!” I mumble, holding up my hand to shield my eyes. “Brandon’ll have my balls if he finds out I saw his girl naked.”
“I’m not naked!” she gasps.
“And I didn’t see you,” I insist. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Uh—what are you doing here? I live here!” she sputters.
My shoulders lift and then fall in a shrug. “I thought you weren’t home.”
“I thought Millie wasn’t returning your calls.”
I peek around my hand at her with a smile. “I told you—she digs this,” I remind her, gesturing to my body.
She smiles at me before speaking again. “Well, good for you.”
“Now I just have to get her to go out with me. On a real date. Sure you can’t be of any help?” I ask, remembering Brandon telling me that I wasn’t going to use Sarah as bait to win Millie over.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she agrees with a nod.
“Yes! Thank you!” I hold up my hand and she gives me a high five. I have no idea whether or not Sarah will be able to sway Millie, but at this point, I could use all the help I can get.
“Sage?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not making any promises, but I definitely can’t do anything as long as I’m standing here wrapped in my towel.”
“Right. Sorry,” I mutter, stepping aside so that she can pass.
“And I’m not done in there, so make it snappy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I notice Millie still has five more minutes to snooze by the time I make it back into her room, quietly shutting the door behind me. Knowing she’ll probably kick me out when she finally wakes up, I don’t bother getting naked or crawling back under the sheets with her. Instead, I sit on the side of the bed and watch her sleep.
After the shortest five minutes of my life, her alarm clock sounds again. She whines, rolling onto her back and throwing her arms over her face. I reach over to silence it, my eyes glued to her body as I blindly search and find the off switch. She inhales deeply and exhales slowly, the rise and fall of her tits making my mouth water.
Without stopping to think, I crawl over her, propping myself up on my hands and knees before I lower my mouth and close my lips around her nipple. She moans as I suck and my dick starts to harden. I bite down on her tight bud and she gasps, arching her back and pushing her chest up. I run my tongue around her nipple before I pull away and blow on it.
“I have work,” she mutters feebly as I begin to show her other breast the same attention.
“Skip breakfast. I’ll be your caffeine fix.”
“Sage,” she breathes in pathetic protest as I kiss my way down her stomach. I smell her arousal before I settle my face between her legs and I know already that I’ll be taking an extra long shower when I get home, remembering this exact moment when I’m stroking my dick. “Oh, my god,” she whimpers with the first swipe of my tongue. It’s not long before she’s panting, tugging at my hair, her legs trembling as she comes in my mouth.
“Millicent,” I murmur, biting and then kissing the inside of her thigh. “Say yes.”
She looks down at me with a sleepy, satisfied, sexy as fuck smile and says, “Maybe.”
I bite her again before I roll out of bed. I’m getting the hell out of here while she’s still riding the high of her orgasm, her head too hazy to realize she pretty much just agreed to go out with me.
AS MY STUDENTS file out of the classroom, my phone starts to ring. Again. I silence it as I drop it in my purse and gather the rest of my things so that I can head back to my office. Staying up all night with Sage instead of working has definitely put me behind. I intend to spend the next couple of hours locked away, looking over assignments before I go to the gym.
Sage might not be good for my heart, but he sure as hell has done a number on my body. I’ve probably burned a million extra calories this week in an attempt to rid myself of my sexual frustration. Out of bed . . . and, more recently, in it.
It only takes me a few minutes to walk over to the next building where the offices for the math department are housed. Just as I set my things down on my desk, I hear my phone chirp in my bag, alerting me to a text. I sit before I dig it out and shake my head when I see that I have three missed calls and a text message, all from the same man.
I’m a fucking man who knows exactly what he wants.
His words replay in my head for the dozenth time since he said them, and I do my best to stifle the little bit of hope that is seriously starting to irk me. I slide my finger across the screen on my device and open his text. A blush creeps into my cheeks and my breath catches in my throat when I read what he’s sent.
Sage: Have you already forgotten what happens when you don’t answer my calls? Or are you just begging for me to smack that ass again?
Just as I’m about to begin typing a reply, he calls. I roll my eyes and then answer. “Hello?”
“You’re one hard woman to get ahold of, doll face.”
“I’m at work, Sage. I can’t exactly answer a call in the middle of class.”
“Class? You’re a teacher?”
I chew on my bottom lip a moment, reality smacking me across the face. I’ve spent hours in bed with him and there are a million things we don’t know about each other. Do I want us to know each other?
“I’m a professor,” I answer, deciding that my occupation is a safe piece of intel to share. “I teach at Front Range Community College.”
“A professor?” he deadpans before he groans. “You’re killing me, baby doll. That’s so fucking hot.” His response catches me off guard and I don’t know what to say. My silence doesn’t seem to
deter him. “If I’d have thought my professors could have been as gorgeous as you, I might’ve endured a couple more years of college.”
I furrow my brow, trying to make sense of his words. “You’re not in school?”
“Nope.”
“You . . . you didn’t go to college?”
“Hey, don’t judge. College isn’t for everybody. I did a couple years, took the courses I thought I needed, and I got out. My dreams don’t require a degree.”
I cross my legs and drape my arm across my knee as I think about what he’s said. He’s talking to someone who has a bachelor’s, a master’s, and a belief that higher education is valuable.
What am I doing? Every time I learn something new about him, it’s only further confirmation that pursuing anything with him is not a good idea. I should have showed him to the door as soon as I woke up Sunday morning. I should have never offered him a grilled cheese.
“What if your dreams don’t come true?” I mutter. As soon as the words pass through my lips, I know I’m being a bitch. Pushing him away is one thing, but what I just said? It was an awful thing to say. Anyone who has the optimism and strength to hold onto a dream deserves the chance to go after it without people like me tearing them down.
“They will,” he assures me, interrupting my thoughts. “Even if I die trying.”
“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I didn’t mean—you know what? I should go.”
“Not so fast. I haven’t even asked you when you’re free for our date, yet.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that I agreed to go out with you.”
“But you will. Are you free Friday night?”
“No,” I reply, not even stopping to think about it.
“You’re lying.”
“Sage—”
“What are you so afraid of, Millie?”
“Why are you so adamant, Sage?”
“I’m more than you give me credit for, baby. You can’t deny there’s something between us.”
I fidget with my fingers as I try and find the words to say. He’s not entirely wrong. However, it’s purely physical and I can’t help but wonder, how long before that fades? How long before he gets bored and moves on to the next pretty girl who throws herself at him? And when that day comes, because it always does, will it hurt? Am I strong enough to stick around and test my limits? Can I date him without falling for him?
Something tells me the answer is no. I’m not that strong. Deep down, I know that too much attention from one man will only shed light on the truth that I’m usually so careful to keep under wraps. The truth is, I get lonely. I’m human. It’s easy to cover it up with work and books and the occasional one night stand. But—dating? It’s just a recipe for disaster and I know it.
“Millicent . . .”
My stomach flutters at the tone of his voice and I close my eyes as I draw in a slow breath. “I’m just a woman. There are others.” Saying the words fills me with disappointment. I know, in this moment, that there’s already a small part of me that is aching to latch onto him, which is exactly why I need to say goodbye.
“One date, gorgeous. Just say yes. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Sage—”
“Jesus, you’re so fucking impossible, did you know that? I don’t know what asshat made you so guarded, but it’s like I said. I won’t take no for an answer. I want you, doll face, and I know you want me, too. I’m taking you on a date. Until then, I’ve got a show this Saturday. We’re headlining at The Wash Bar. I hope you’ll come.”
“I’ll think about it,” I mutter, not sure if I mean it or if I’m simply hoping it’ll get him off the phone.
“You’re playing hard to get—but I’m not afraid of a little challenge. I’ll catch you later, doll face.”
He disconnects the call without another word.
I’M AT THE OFFICE longer than usual, content to drown myself in work for a few hours. I catch up on all that I fell behind on last night; then I get ahead on my lesson plans for the next couple of weeks, making sure that I stay close to the syllabi that I created to plot out the course of the semester. When I finally make my way to my car, I think about just going home. I’m exhausted. But then I think about climbing in my bed and I know that the pillow on the right side of the mattress will smell like Sage. Thinking of Sage reminds me of the way he woke me up this morning, and remembering his tongue awakens the desire that emanates between my legs, and I know I won’t get any sleep until after I’ve managed to exhaust myself completely.
Fucking bastard. Fucking arrogant little shit with a fucking unbelievably talented mouth. And don’t even get me started on that dick . . . Fuck!
By the time I get to the gym, I’m so irritated at myself for turning into exactly who I told him I wasn’t—a nameless, fangirl, slut who would fall to my knees and suck his cock as if it were my privilege. Well, I suppose the nameless part isn’t accurate . . .
Oh, but the sound he makes when he comes, it just might be a damn privilege to suck that out of him.
When I pull into the parking lot, I turn off my car and press my head back against the headrest. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, combating my desire to call him. Something tells me that if I told him I had an itch that I needed him to scratch, he would do it. All night long. I’m so tempted that I leave my phone in the glove compartment when I get out of the car and make my way inside.
Just as I’m about to step foot into the locker rooms to change, Aria and Sarah are on their way out. They stop when they see me, both of them looking energized after an invigorating workout.
“You’re here late,” says Aria. “Too bad you weren’t a little earlier, you could have joined us for Josh’s class.”
“Yeah, I didn’t plan on being here so late, but I got caught up at work and . . .” I trail off, deciding that why I’m here at this hour isn’t something I need to divulge. “Are you two headed home?”
“Yup,” Aria replies with a nod.
“Actually, Millie, do you mind if I talk to you for a second?” asks Sarah, tightening her long ponytail.
“Um, okay.”
“I’m going to bother Josh,” Aria says with a wink. “Just come grab me when you’re done. Good seeing you, Millie. Enjoy your workout.” She bounces off and I give my attention to Sarah, completely unsuspecting of what she might want to speak to me about.
“I ran into Sage this morning at the apartment,” she tells me with a small smile.
When she doesn’t continue, I shrug and shake my head in confusion. “Okay. And?”
“Aaaaaand, I don’t know,” she laughs, in that way that tells me she’s not sure how to respond. “He seems to be really interested in you.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, still uncertain where this conversation is supposed to be going.
“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but I really think you should give him a chance. He’s a good guy, from what I can tell. And, actually, I was thinking that maybe we could all go on a triple date or something. I can’t this weekend, because I already have plans, but maybe next weekend? You, Sage, Aria, Josh, Brandon and I—we could all go to The Brew Cycle and hang out. It could be fun. I mean, we had a great time the other night, right?”
“Um,” I begin to say, adjusting the strap of my gym bag against my shoulder. “I’m not really sure what I’ll be up to next weekend.”
She smiles at me knowingly. “Just think about it, okay? I know you and I got off to a rough start, but I hope we can be friends. Spending a night out with everyone would be totally low key. No pressure.”
“Sure. Okay, yeah. I’ll think about it,” I concede, appreciating her olive branch.
“Great. Well, I’ll let you get to your workout. See you.”
“Bye.”
We part ways and I don’t waste any time changing into my shorts and tank top. I really don’t want to spend the next hour thinking about Sage or Sarah or The Brew Cycle—I just need to clear my head. I’m pulling my
hair up into a ponytail as I make my way out onto the gym floor. It’s then that I realize that by leaving my phone in my car, I’ve left my collection of audiobooks, too. Knowing I’ll have to find another way to occupy my thoughts, I opt to exhaust my body with a run on the treadmill. The line of machines face the half of the gym dedicated to the free weights and there’s always plenty of eye candy to keep a bitch in heat distracted.
Five minutes into my run, someone catches my eye. He’s tall with a mop of blonde hair on his head. He’s not wearing a shirt, only a pair of shorts with his tennis shoes. He looks like . . . Hercules, and that observation makes me smile. I watch him do a rep with a set of heavy weights, working his biceps, before he drops them onto the mat. I roll my eyes when he pulls out his phone and snaps a shot of himself in the mirror. I look away, immediately uninterested, but not before he catches me staring. For a second, I think I’m in the clear; but when I look back in his direction to insure he’s not concerned with me, I spot him headed directly toward me.
I stifle a groan and up the speed on my machine. When he’s closed the distance between us, he doesn’t speak to me right away. Instead, he hops onto the treadmill next to mine and starts to jog. It’s not long before his pace matches my own. I can tell, looking out of the corner of my eye, that he keeps glancing in my direction. Finally, the inevitable break in silence occurs.
“Do you want to race?” he asks, speaking loud enough to be heard over the hum of the moving belt and the thump, thump, thump of my footfalls.
I look over at him, caught off guard by his question. “Excuse me?”
He grins and the dimple in his cheek makes me want to smile in return, but I fight the urge. “Do you want to race?” he repeats.
“Um, no . . .” I mutter.
“Oh, come on. First one to three miles wins. You’ve already got a head start.”
“Just what would we be racing for?” I ask, a little short of breath.
