Playing Hard to Get(28)

“Long, huh?” He slips his foot out from underneath mine, then hooks his calf around my leg. We’re suddenly playing a slightly aggressive game of footsie and I’m seriously confused right now.

“Long legs,” I correct, untangling my leg from his. “And we need to finish our discussion.”

He glances at the clock on the wall behind my head. “We still have thirty-five minutes to go.”

“Then let’s wrap it up and start working on writing your first paragraph,” I suggest, my voice weak.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should definitely work on the paragraph.” He sits up straighter, reaching out to tap his index finger on top of my hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” I’m weak over him barely touching my hand. I’ve got serious problems when it comes to this man.

“You know. And it’s been a while since I’ve…flirted with a woman,” he explains.

“Oh, is that what you were doing? Flirting with me with the leg thing?” I blink at him, trying to keep my expression serious. “I couldn’t tell.”

Knox leans back in his chair with a groan, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. “Damn. Am I that rusty?”

I smile. So does he. “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve become celibate,” I remind him.

“I haven’t had sex in two months.”

Wait, what?

Everything comes to a screeching halt at his confession.

He nods. “Wild, right?”

I hate that he just told me that. I hate that I now have a vision in my head of Knox Maguire naked. Touching someone. Kissing someone.

Touching me. Kissing me.

“That’s…a long time.” I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve gone longer.

I’m going longer as we speak.

“It is for me.” He drums his fingers on the tabletop. “How about for you?”

I frown, my brows drawing together. “How is this conversation relevant to what we’re working on…”

“Right, right. Sorry. Getting too personal. Let’s work on the paragraph.” He reaches for his backpack, pulling out a laptop, and I take the moment to compose myself, obliterating all the thoughts his words and questions brought forth in my mind.

I’m not here to talk about sex and relationship stuff with Knox Maguire. I’m his tutor and he’s my student. We need to talk about his assignment and work on the paragraph.

That’s it.

Knox taps slowly on his keyboard, rattling off what he wants to say while getting it down. I correct him on a few points. Guide him with the solid suggestions he makes. He’s definitely not dumb, though I never actually thought he was. He just needs a little help.

Eventually, I take a look at the sentences he’s written and make a few more suggestions. Until we have a fairly decent first paragraph put together for his assignment.

“You think she’ll approve?” Knox reads over the paragraph yet again, absently taking off his hat so he can run his fingers through his messy hair before he tosses the hat on the table.

My fingers itch to do the same, but I restrain myself, clutching my hands together in my lap.

“I’m sure she will. The first paragraph is the easiest part. But then you’ll have to write her an entire paper,” I remind him.

The face he makes is full of misery. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, you’ve totally got this.” Now it’s my turn to tap the top of his hand with my index finger. “Don’t worry.”

Before I can move my hand away, he turns his palm up, capturing my fingers with his own. “You’re a big help to me, Jo Jo. I really appreciate it.”

I’ve never had a student I’m helping purposely touch me so much before.

“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing celibacy, Maguire?” I’m trying to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out dead serious instead.

His green eyes linger on mine. “I’m just holding your hand. Not trying to get in your panties.”

I snatch my hand away from his, uncomfortable. More with the way his words make me feel versus the fact that they’re mildly inappropriate.

He keeps talking to me like that, I’ll want him to never stop. Until I’m the one doing inappropriate things with him and actually enjoying it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He starts packing up all of his stuff, shoving everything into his backpack. I note the time on my iPad, seeing that we still have twelve minutes left, but I guess he’s done. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

I watch him gathering his things, not saying a word. Unsure of what I could even say to ease the sudden tension that’s filled the room. He’s mad, but I know it’s not with me.

More like he’s angry at himself.

When he’s finished, he zips his backpack closed and slings it over his shoulder, standing in front of me with a tight jaw and thin lips. “I’m sorry. If you want to dump me as your student, I understand.”

I slowly rise to my feet, gathering my own things with efficiency and placing them in my backpack. He remains in place, stiff as can be, and when I finally give him my full attention, I can’t help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for him.