by Daphne Slade
I briefly wonder about the mechanics of how we’re going to do this. Maybe I could bend over somewhere and—no, I want every part of him against me. I shove the pants all the way down, then step out of my boots to fully remove them.
Noah watches with astonishment, wondering if I want to go that far. The wicked grin I shoot him, has him dropping it in favor of undoing the fly on his jeans.
Before shoving his jeans and underwear down far enough to release his cock, he digs into his back pocket to pull out a condom. At some point, we’re going to have to finally get tested so we can avoid this distracting step. Frankly, knowing what a skeeze ball Matt turned out to be, I should do it no matter what.
That detour into the world of responsibility quickly goes off the rails when he pulls his dick out to unroll the condom onto it. God, it’s just so lovely and perfect. I feel the warmth begin to swell between my thighs telling me I’m already wet for him.
When I’m the one to hop up, throwing my legs around him, Noah chuckles but wastes no time grabbing my bare ass and helping me get into position. Using the shelves for support I lean back as he guides himself into me.
“Noah,” I sigh, my head falling back as he slowly enters, just the way I like it. Feeling every inch of him gradually invade me is like heaven.
I slowly begin to rock my body.
Noah meets each move with his hips, thrusting slow and deep at first. My fingers dig into his shoulders, gripping harder as the feel of him begins to overtake me. He falls in against me, his mouth coming to my neck, hot breath warming my skin.
His hips move faster. I cling harder, welcoming it. Our heavy breath, sighs, and moans invade the quiet air around us, giving everything a more dangerous and urgent edge.
At any moment now, we could be caught. I close my eyes and smile, allowing the potential threat to add spice to the mix. My bare legs rise slightly higher around Noah’s waist as he continues to buck his hips into me, now with rapid movements. He stops, slowing down to continue with a series of slow, but deep thrusts. It drives me absolutely wild.
“Yes,” I moan.
His hand comes up underneath my sweatshirt to cup my breast. I feel my nipple harden against the lacy fabric of my bra, and I wish more than anything it was out of the way.
“Grace,” he growls against my neck, as he continues fucking me.
Just the sound of my name on his lips is enough to get me to that edge. I feel the swell come, my hips moving in time with his to spur it on. Noah accommodates me, shifting his hips up to hit just the right spot for me to…
“Yes!” This time it’s so loud it bounces off the walls. Anyone who’s down here would have heard it.
I don’t care, I’m still riding the wave of pleasure. Even when Noah chuckles against my throat it doesn’t stop the momentum, mostly because, despite that small laugh, I feel him reaching his climax.
I squeeze my insides, loving the growl that tickles my skin in response. It builds on what’s left of my orgasm, waking it up again.
“Come on, Noah, better come before we get caught,” I urge with a wicked smile.
He pulls back to gaze at me. My eyes are trapped by his as he fucks me harder, building up both our climaxes. Those blue eyes are just so damn mesmerizing, but not enough to take away from the heat and pleasure that lets loose inside of me once again. Even as I come, I can’t close my eyes as usual because he’s got me so enraptured by the look in his eyes.
I cry out again, whimpering as the shudder ripples through me.
I feel his dick twitch and he gives one last, hard thrust as he erupts inside of me. He bites his lower lip—so fucking sexy—but it’s unable to contain the groan of pleasure as he releases.
When it’s over, we stay like that, me still wrapped around him as he stares into my eyes. Our breathing slowly eases back to normal, but for some reason, I still don’t want to let go.
Noah grins.
I laugh.
Then a door opens and closes in the distance.
“Shit,” Noah says as our eyes go wide at the same time.
I quickly scramble to disentangle myself from him, echoing the same word over and over in my head. I’m naked from the waist down and my leggings are in a ball on the floor, practically inside-out from how they came off. My panties are lost somewhere inside of them.
“It’s fine,” Noah says in a soft, soothing voice, trying to calm me down as I cry out in frustration trying to get the second leg to go the right way.
I take a breath.
Even if someone is down here, it’s not like they will make it to our row and see us. There’s a reason he walked so far down the aisle.
That’s enough to at least allow me to get my underwear free. I snatch them out and wriggle into them.
By now, Noah has the condom off and his fly redone. He just watches with an amused smile.
“If I end up on the sex offenders registry I’m blaming you,” I say, only half-joking.
He chuckles, which would normally have me scowling with displeasure, but for some reason it allows me to find the small humor in this. The old Grace is slowly fading away, it seems.
I shake out the pants and pull them on. Noah ogles me as I bounce into my leggings.
“Enjoying the show?” I say with a smirk.
“Very much so. We’ll have to do this more often.”
I laugh, now that I’m at least dressed. “Next time you have to take everything off too.”
“Does that mean we get more romps in the library?”
I laugh as I lean one hand on his broad shoulder to pull on my boot. “Romp? Boink? Where do you come up with these ridiculous terms, Noah?”
“I’m the youngest of four kids. Euphemisms were pretty standard in my household.”
I smile at the thought. My parents were of the mindset that knowledge is power. I learned where babies come from—no cutesy filler words for “vagina” and “penis” either—around the same time I learned my ABCs. They would have balked at the idea of one of their children referring to sex as “boinking” or “romping” no matter how young they were.
Something about that makes me giggle as I tug on the second boot.
With both shoes on, and my bag recovered from the floor, I straighten up to face him. “Do I look like someone who just had sex in the stacks?”
“Absolutely,” he says with a straight face.
I laugh and punch him lightly in the arm. “Alright, I’m going to go back to studying. I need it. Tomorrow is the dreaded Immunology class. This was…fun,” I say with a guilty smile.
“Hey,” he says, stopping me before I can leave. He grabs me and pulls me in, my front side flush against his as he leans down to kiss me.
My body is still heated in recovery which only adds to the passion. After only about a month, his lips feel pleasantly familiar against mine. He makes mine feel pretty and perfect.
Hell, he makes me feel pretty and perfect all over.
I’m seriously falling in love with this guy.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Grace
The next morning, even the thought of going to Immunology can’t erase the smile on my face from this weekend. Jenny takes note of it as I sit down.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile when walking through the door of this class.” She gives me a wicked grin. “Still excited over this weekend’s win…or maybe something else?”
I twist my lips trying to force the smile away, which only makes her laugh. “Never mind, I’ll just pry the details out of you tonight. Unless you have other plans?”
“No!” I say quickly. As much as I love being with Noah, he knows how important school is to me. He’s not thrilled that I have study sessions with Jenny. I had to reassure him that we aren’t comparing notes or something ridiculous like that. “I’ll be there.”
Professor Kardos walks in, bustling as always. He has the stack of papers we turned in well over a week ago, all finally graded. Once again, his insistence on
paper over electronic irks me. I’d rather not get bad news back in front of the rest of the class, especially the girl sitting next to me.
However, once I see the grade up top, I’m more surprised than I expected to be.
“A C?” I cry, thankfully low enough that only Jenny hears.
She tears her eyes away from hers—an A, obviously—to view the big red letter at the top of mine.
I’m so blinded by it that, at first, I don’t even register the note written right next to it: One letter grade subtracted for failing to turn in paper copy.
What? I did turn in a paper copy. He made it abundantly clear on the first day of class that he’d subtract a grade for those who fail to do so. It’s the easiest way to avoid a worse grade than I’d otherwise get—which is bad enough, considering I otherwise would have gotten a B—so why would I not do at least that bare minimum?
I raise my hand. “Professor Kardos, I did—”
“All questions about your papers will be addressed after class,” he says waving a hand dismissively. I note how he peers at me over his glasses, as though he’s doubly surprised I of all people could be so lax about this.
Jenny gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake,” she whispers.
Of course it is. I mean, she was even there when I turned it in. I think about having her stay behind as a witness, but then remember she and I only met on the first floor after I had turned mine in.
Right before she turned hers in.
“Did you see mine at the top of the pile when you turned yours in?” I ask in a hopeful tone.
“Honestly, I didn’t really look. But I can still tell him I did. Ashley was there. She saw me turn mine in after yours, so it’s completely plausible.”
“No, I don’t want you to lie for me,” I say nibbling my bottom lip with worry.
Ashley. She knows I turned it in. I can just get her to be my witness.
I settle back in my seat, feeling slightly more relieved. Still, that C taunts me enough during class that I can’t even concentrate.
When class finally ends, I rush out of my seat to head to confront him.
“My office, please,” he says, holding up one hand to stop me before I can speak.
I nod and wait, gritting my teeth as he collects his things, going at his own leisurely pace before he finally leaves. He’s brilliant but so disorganized. Perhaps he’s the one who lost my paper copy.
That must be it. It’s probably somewhere in his office having fallen behind a bookcase or lost underneath another pile of paper.
I’m disappointed to see that Ashley’s not working today. She could easily back me up and this whole thing could be cleared up just like that.
Either way, I’m already forming my argument in my head by the time I’m seated across from him at his desk.
“You were saying?” he begins.
“Professor Kardos, I did turn in a paper copy last week. Ashely, your assistant can testify to the fact. I’m not sure what happened but at least a few people saw me here in this very building with it in my hands.”
At the very least, Heidi and Noah can back me up as well.
“Hmm,” he says nodding in thought. “And yet, it wasn’t in my pile. I’ll have Ashley search for it in the coming days.”
“Thank you,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. I’m sure it will turn up.
He observes me with a keen eye. “There is of course the bigger question at hand.”
“What’s that?” I ask in alarm.
“I notice that you’ve put in your request to have me coach you on the medical school interview.”
“Yes,” I say, feeling the wariness set in.
“Why do you want to go to medical school?”
I blink in surprise. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“That’s not really a reason is it?” He sighs and leans back in his chair to observe me. “There are three types of people who go into medicine. Those who are passionate about it, those who are good at it, and those who just want a solid, financially secure career.
“Ideally those three things overlap, such that when one fades, the other is there to keep them bolstered. Passion succumbs to cynicism. Natural talent gets bogged down by red tape and bureaucracy. And the money? Frankly, it’s a long path to get there and once you do, lifestyle inflation usually makes it less worthwhile. Doctors are particularly wont to keep up with the Joneses, I’ve noticed.”
“What are you trying to say?” I ask, even though the sinking feeling in my stomach already tells me.
“To put it bluntly, Grace, I don’t see the passion…nor the talent, I’m afraid. This is the third class I’ve had with you where it seems to be a struggle for you. I wrote the recommendation last year because you seemed so passionate about it then. This year, I don’t see that same passion in you.”
That sinking feeling in my stomach is compounded by the punch to the gut his words are.
“I can usually read those who are in it for the money, and you don’t strike me as the type. So again I have to ask, why medical school?”
“If you don’t want to coach me then—”
He holds up a hand to silence me. “Your defensiveness speaks for itself.”
Of course, I’m defensive! He’s basically told me I’m not cut out for medical school.
He leans forward again to study me. “Before I agree to coach you for this interview, I want you to think about why you’re going to medical school. Last year you mentioned that your mother was a medical doctor, your father a professor at Harvard. That’s quite the influence.”
“They have nothing to do with my choice,” I say, sounding one-hundred percent defensive.
“Hmm,” he says, not at all convinced. “I know it sounds like I’m being mean but it’s best to work these things out before you’ve invested four years of medical school then several more in residency only to find out this isn’t what you truly want as a career. Better to feel you’ve wasted four years of college in a subject you probably hate than forty years of your life in a career you’ll probably hate, which is a disservice to yourself, the medical community, and your future patients.”
“I…” I honestly don’t know what to say to that.
Professor Kardos studies me intently. “Think on it, Grace. You have certain talents, that much is evident in your writing. You wouldn’t be at Devington if you didn’t. But apply them in a way that nourishes you rather than drains you.”
I work my jaw in silence letting the anger and disappointment simmer inside. I can’t tell if it’s directed toward Professor Kardos or the things that he’s saying.
What nourishes me?
I think about the classes I love versus those I dread. Literature? Writing? Even history and art. What possible career could I make out of that?
My parents would have a field day.
“Thank you, Professor Kardos,” I say, quickly shooting out of my chair before he can further lecture me. “Was there anything else?”
He gives me a wry smile and shakes his head. “As I said, I’ll have Ashley look for that paper, but if it isn’t found, I’m afraid the grade will have to stand.”
“But even she saw me turn it in!” I protest. “She’ll attest to that fact.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid I’ve been burned too many times by students who have claimed the same, getting their friends to serve as witnesses. Next time, get it done early enough to simply hand it to me in person after class so this doesn’t happen.”
I want to protest further, but as raw as I’m feeling, I don’t want to say something I’ll regret. The man obviously already thinks lowly of me.
Instead, I storm out, allowing my anger to boil over at the unfairness of it all.
Why the hell couldn’t I have been blessed with the same talent for science that Jenny and Erin have? More importantly, what in the world happened to my paper last week?
Ashley is still not here, so I guess it isn’t one
of her days to work. I’ll just have to keep checking back if only to see if she’s found my paper somewhere.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Noah
Since Grace and Jenny have their study session tonight—something that still tickles a worrisome nerve in the back of my mind—Grace and I decide to just talk on the phone instead of meeting up in person.
At the very least, it’s safer than potentially getting caught.
Though it was very much worth it this weekend in the library.
I grin as I call her a little before 6 p.m.
It disappears when I hear how strained her voice is when she answers.
“Bad day?” I can’t help but wonder if perhaps something happened with Jenny in class today.
“That’s an understatement.”
So much for my original plans on a little phone sex. “Tell me about it.”
“I got a C on my paper in Immunology.”
“That’s not the end of the world.”
“It is when you were supposed to get a B. Kardos is one of those professors who insists on paper and docks you a grade if you don’t turn in a copy in that format. Mine went mysteriously missing last week.”
“But I was there when you turned it in.” Granted, I never actually saw her hand it in, but I’m willing to fudge the truth. Knowing Grace, she wouldn’t screw up a thing like that.
“And yet, it somehow disappeared into thin air. Or maybe just the mess of his office, I’m guessing. The bigger problem is the class itself, or rather my pre-med status.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“He took the opportunity to suggest that maybe I wasn’t cut out for medicine.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly,” she says with a sigh.
“But…does he have a point?” I suggest, regretting it the moment it leaves my mouth.
“What?”
“I don’t mean to say you couldn’t do it if you wanted to, Grace. You’re one of the smartest people I know. It’s just…well, you do seem to hate the class and every time you talk about medical school you make it seem like you’re headed off to prison.”
