Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers Book 1) by Christina C Jones Page A

contained. The matching gray shorts she wore came down to mid-thigh, yeah, but they were lycra, or something else, that fit tight against her skin. I wasn’t trying to always find myself ogling her like this, but goddamn.
    “Can I help you?” she snapped, and I ran my tongue over my lips before I unhurriedly brought my gaze up to her face. She was pissed, and I almost wanted to laugh, because I don’t think she realized that pissed was sexy as hell on her.
    Big browns narrowed, plush lips twisted into a frown. I had the strongest urge to grab her by the high ponytail she’d pulled her braids into and kiss her, and watch that little attitude melt away, but I was on official business… and I wouldn’t put it past Reese to pull out a blade. What the hell was she doing here anyway, with a mop? Damn, did Professor B make her grad assistant clean her house too?
    Ahhh, maybe this is more of her punishment from that email… God I hope so.
    She cleared her throat, and let the mop lean in the doorway as she crossed her arms, waiting for me to explain my presence.
    “I’m looking for Professor – I mean, Imara Bryant.”
    “She’s not here.”
    Motherfucking déjà vu.
    Internally, I sighed, then nodded. “Okay. When will she be back?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “You never have useful information, do you? You work here and don’t know when the owner is going to be back?”
    She sucked her teeth, her face twisting into a deeper scowl. “ Work here ?! Boy this is my house. Excuse you.”
    “What? So you live with the professor?”
    “I live alone.”
    “Then why is this address on the paperwork?”
    “Because it’s a duplex,” she snapped, then jabbed a finger toward my chest. “ You need to drive around back.”
    I blew out a heavy sigh, then took a step back. “You couldn’t have just said that in the first place?”
    She smirked. “What was it that you said that day in the office? That’s not even what you asked me .”
    I narrowed my eyes, and nodded. “Aiight. Got it.”
    Shaking my head, I stepped down off the porch and climbed back into the car. I hadn’t driven two feet before Reese came outside and waved me down.
    She’d slid some thonged sandals on, but hadn’t put on any more clothes, and in the full sunlight… again, goddamn . She walked right up to the car, when I let the window down she leaned, dropping her head so we were face to face.
    “Oh yeah,” she said. “She’s not at home. Your little paperwork should say somewhere that you’re authorized to drop the car off with me.”
    I put a hand to my forehead, squeezing to relieve some frustration and pressure. This girl was trying to stress me to death – only possible explanation. I turned the car off and climbed out, leaving the door open for her to look around inside, but she didn’t move back. Instead, we ended up rounding each other, looking each other up and down.
    “Nice khakis,” she said, once she was the one closest to the car, and then turned look at it.
    I looked at it too – not the car. Reese was on the slimmer side of curvy, fit, but still nice and soft. And her ass… perfect upside-down heart over toned thighs, just a couple inches from my hands.
    Well within grabbing distance.
    She put her knees on the front seat, bending over into the passenger side to examine something. I stuck my hands in my pockets, and was still talking myself into looking away from those twin dimples on her back when she turned around. First, her eyes cut over to her ass, then up to me, glaring at me over her shoulder.
    “Could you take a step back? My boyfriend would kill you if he saw you looking at me like that.”
    I laughed. “If your boyfriend was hitting it right, I doubt I’d be looking at you like this. You’d have a much better disposition.”
    “My man is hitting it just fine, asshole.”
    Again, I had to laugh. “Yeah, whatever you need to say to convince yourself he ain’t wack. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe you