Tenure

39. James

39

James

What. The. Fuck.

I run my hand gently up and down her side, her soft skin damp with sweat. She’s out cold. Again. Only this time, I’m disappointed.

Did she hear me?

I squirm uncomfortably because I’m not sure, and now that my brain is starting to function again I’m not sure if I want to know.

I sigh and stand, careful not to jostle her, and make my way to the bathroom where I hop in the shower for a quick wash. When I get out, I turn on the hot water in the old-fashioned tub. As I wait for it to fill, I lean into the mirror; she’s left a hickey the size of a coaster on my neck.

“Great,” I grumble. I look like a fucking beatnik in a turtleneck.

I put my hands on the counter and let my head drop, staring down at the cold marble and wondering what in the hell I’m doing. I love you? Really, James? It had been on the tip of my tongue all night, as much a surprise to me as her finding an error in my textbook, but she tore me open with that little stunt of hers. Watching her take control and love it ripped me to shreds in all the right ways. And watching her suck our cum off my fingers had my guts spilling out all over the damn floor.

I’ve never felt like this about sex. Never felt stripped and raw, and a little out of my league. I snort, the irony of a damn virgin making me feel this way not lost on me, but the girl never seems to do what’s expected. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be choked and bitten tonight.

Do I love her? Or is this just pure novelty? A beautiful young woman with a sharp mind and a smart mouth who surprises me in bed.

This isn’t novelty. This is something else. Something powerful.

I walk over to the tub and test the water to make sure it’s not too hot.

I’ve never run someone a bath before. I’ve never driven an hour in rush hour traffic for a date. I’ve never been comfortable with having women in my apartment. I’ve never even seen the same woman two days in a row. Yet here I am fretting over the temperature of her bathwater like she’s a kid.

I sigh, because really? She is. Less than half my age, still in high school, and absolutely one hundred percent off-limits.

So, why don’t I give a fuck?

I suppose it was inevitable that I’d eventually meet someone who didn’t irk me, or in her case irks me in all the right ways. But for that someone to be a someone who could kill my career? I’d have expected myself to run screaming for the hills, not be thinking about whether or not my cock could physically manage to get inside her one more time today.

I head out into the bedroom and throw on a pair of grey joggers and a long-sleeved black tee, pushing back the sleeves before making my way down the hall to go get her. She’d probably punch me if I try to touch her again. God she must be fucking sore . . .

She’s in the exact same position as when I left. I lean down and softly kiss her forehead, before sliding my arms under her shoulder blades and knees. She stirs as I pick her up, head lolling into my chest as she curls into me.

“What’re you doing?”

“Putting you in the bath, baby.”

“Mm . . .” she hums sweetly. “That’s a good idea.”

I lower her into the water, and she hisses as it hits her skin.

“Too hot?”

“Too sore . . .” she groans.

“I’m sorry, babygirl.”

“No, you’re not,” she grumbles, sinking all the way in, leaning her head against the back of the tub.

“You’re right, I’m not,” I say, kissing her hair. “I’ll be in bed. Yell when you’re ready.”

Her eyes open, and she gives me a suggestive smile. “What are you going to do in bed?”

I ruffle her hair. “Read.”

She pauses. “Read in here?”

I hesitate. I’m not sure why, but for some reason this feels like a superbly intimate request, and I almost laugh at myself; I can take her virginity, call her my girlfriend, and tell her I love her, but I can’t sit and read a book while she’s in the tub?

“Okay,” I say. “Gimme a minute.”

I grab my book and my glasses off the nightstand and drag a chair from the corner of the bedroom in behind me, plunking it down at the head of the tub where her hair is spilling over the side. I lean back in my seat, sticking my legs out in front of me and crossing them at the ankles, settling in and opening my book.

She rolls over in the water so she’s on her stomach, and I look over the top of my glasses at her. She crosses her arms over the edge and lays her cheek down on her forearm, staring up at me with soft eyes.

“Read to me?”

I open my mouth, but my tongue gets stuck.

Don’t say it again. DON’T fucking say it again.

I clear my throat. “Sure.”

“What are you reading?”

“Sapiens.”

“By Yuri Harari?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles, closes her eyes, sinks deeper into the water. “I love this book.”

Do. Not. Say it.

“Me too,” I say quietly.