How to Fail at Flirting(26)

Thirteen





After answering the buzzer, I paced my living room, waiting for Jake.

I need to calmly and quickly tell him we have to stop. That it’s no one’s fault, but it’s the smart thing to do. Ethical thing to do? No, I’ll go with smart. That’s it. No funny business, just a quick split.

A knock pulled me from my thoughts, and I rolled my shoulders. I can do this.

“Hey,” Jake said when I opened the door. He’d loosened his tie, his jacket was in his hands, and his shirt was rolled up his forearms. His hair was a little tousled, like he might have run his hands through it a few times.

“Hey.” Do I hug him before I end things? I really want to hug him. I motioned for him to come in, ultimately keeping my hands to myself.

“So,” we said in unison. We let out barely audible, awkward laughs, and Jake deferred to me.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid as to not talk about work.” I wrung my hands. “And to lie about living here.”

“It wasn’t stupid.” He set his jacket on the nearby counter and brushed his fingertips along my arms. “We had no reason to assume this would happen. It’s a big city.”

He followed me to the living room couch, settling next to me, our thighs millimeters apart. “You said you were here for a wedding.”

And if he lied about that . . . Suddenly, I questioned the memories of how his touches made me feel.

“I am. The high-maintenance bride, the whooping girl entourage, it’s all true. The timing just happened to work out to come into town early and get started with Thurmond. It’s one of our first big accounts, and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.” He nudged my knee with his. “Talk to me, Naya like a papaya. Why does this have you so anxious?”

The department where I work with other PhDs is mistaken for the campus day care center at least three times a day, and it’s your job to find that out. Oh, and everyone I work with already thinks I sleep around.

I let out a small, choked laugh. “Besides the fact you’re in charge of me keeping my job?”

“Yeah, I guess, besides that.” His expression a little sheepish, he laced his fingers with mine. The response would have sounded flippant from anyone else, but something in his tone made it softer. “What’s your role at TU?”

At first I hesitated, but he was right. There was no point withholding any details now. “I’m a professor in education, and I don’t want it to seem like this”—I motioned between us—“is me trying to gain an advantage or something. Even in education, women are judged harshly. People talk, they like to talk a lot, and that could be terrible for me if anyone found out we were . . .” What are we doing?

“I understand.”

“So, it’s better if we . . .” I looked down at our laced fingers and inched mine back. “If we don’t see each other again. I mean, you’re only here a few more days, anyway.”

Jake lowered his face to catch my gaze. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low. “That’s the smart thing to do, to cut ties.” He held my gaze, his eyes boring into mine, and I shifted my gaze, unable to handle the weight, the examination.

“I know,” I said into my lap.

“And it’s the responsible thing, probably the ethical thing, too.” He stroked my palm with a slow, deliberate glide I didn’t want to end.

My urge to pull our fingers apart stalled, and our fingertips still mingled.

He had this way of grazing over my skin that relaxed and electrified my nerve endings, leaving me with a confusing need to both climb the walls and sink into him. “But I’m having a hard time thinking about ethics because I’ve been aching to kiss your perfect mouth since I walked in the door.”

My body betrayed my resolve, and flickers of arousal pinged at his words.

Don’t remind me how much I want this.

“I leave in a few days, but I was hoping to spend as much of that time with you as possible. You’re intriguing, and funny, and so damn sexy.”

His intense stare pinned me in my place.

This is wrong. It’s unprofessional. It’s irresponsible.

“Naya, do you—”

But I want it. I want him.

I slipped my hand to the back of his neck and pulled his face to mine roughly. I’d never taken control of a kiss like that, and adrenaline surged through me.

Jake was still for a beat before kissing me back, pulling me onto his lap. Our mouths met frantically, tongues dancing, like the kiss was oxygen.

I hadn’t wanted to kiss him; I’d needed to. The way his lips played over mine had sent me into a place where I was all instinct. I shifted to straddle him, and he groaned, pulling me closer and gripping my backside as my dress inched up my thighs.

“Naya.” He panted before meeting my lips again. My center slid along his hard length, and he hissed, pressing his lips to the column of my throat and sucking gently.

Every touch of his mouth was pushing me forward, a little unsteady, a little elated.

“A few days, right?” I tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his pants and slipping my fingers underneath to stroke his abs before working at the buttons.

“A few days,” he murmured into my neck, the words vibrating into my skin as he ground his hips up to meet me.