cross and re-cross my legs again because my panties are immediately damp the second he says the filthy phrase. "Never mind. You got a B. That's great!"
"No big deal."
"It is a big deal. It's a good start, at least. It's more than what you need to make sure you're not on probation."
"What's my reward?" he asks with a crooked grin.
"The knowledge that you can be academically successful," I say primly.
"I was hoping for something a little more interesting."
I roll my eyes. "I'm not pimping myself out to reward you for your schoolwork," I say firmly.
"Pimping yourself out?" he asks. "I was thinking it would be a mutual reward. You give me an incentive to keep getting good grades, and I reward you by giving you the best orgasm of your life, completely ruining you for future men."
"There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don't even know where to begin," I say, my voice firm. Professional . "You're totally delusional to think that you'd be the best orgasm of my life. Which you won't be, because I'm not going to sleep with you, or let you put your face between my legs, or whatever totally repulsive suggestion you have next."
"Oh, I can guarantee that I'd be the best orgasm of your life, Cassie Rae," he says, leaning forward. The drawl is accentuated now, practically dripping from his words. Why does that drawl make everything he says sound like sex? When he leans forward across the table, I watch his lips as he speaks. He's close enough that if I were to just move a little bit, I could touch my lips to his. But I don't.
And I remind myself that I don't want to. Not at all. Colton King is an arrogant jock. And a player. And my student.
Kissing him would break all the rules.
I clear my throat and force myself to slide back in my seat, purposely putting space between us. Space is exactly what I need.
Space and an ice-cold shower.
Except that even after the session is over, what he says plays on a loop in my brain over and over and over: I can guarantee that I'd be the best orgasm of your life, Cassie Rae.
10
Colton
" H ow the fuck did you land her?" Dillon, a cornerback on the team, catches up with me in the athletic center outside of one of the tutoring rooms. He eyeballs Cassie's retreating figure as she walks toward the exit door, well out of earshot. She's wearing tight jeans and flip-flops and this tank top that skims over her waist and hangs to the top of her ass, but doesn't quite cover it.
Which is why I'm standing here ogling her as she walks, her hips swaying slowly.
I swear that she's the most effortlessly sexy woman I've ever laid eyes on. I don't think she has a clue how hot she is.
It’s been two weeks of tutoring sessions – professional, appropriate tutoring sessions – and I should be congratulated for behaving myself because it’s damn near impossible being in the same room with this girl and not ripping her clothes right off her.
Dillon says something again.
"Huh?" I grunt absently, watching the automatic doors in the lobby open and Cassie disappear outside. I wonder where she's going, if she goes out with friends or goes out on dates.
The thought of her going out on dates makes my jaw clench.
"Her," Dillon says. "How did you land the hot chick as a tutor? I thought the tutors were all ugly as hell. Or nerdy guys."
I shrug. "She's not really that hot," I mutter casually. I don't know why I say it, exactly. It's not true at all. She's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"She's a great lay, isn't she?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snap, turning to look at him. I've never liked Dillon, not since I met him. He's one of those guys who's just a little off, you know? Dead behind the eyes and shit. He might be my teammate, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't put his stupid head through a wall.
He puts his hands up, laughing as he takes a step backward. "Don't be so touchy, man. I was just asking if you hit that yet. Because if she were my tutor, I'd be all over her
"No big deal."
"It is a big deal. It's a good start, at least. It's more than what you need to make sure you're not on probation."
"What's my reward?" he asks with a crooked grin.
"The knowledge that you can be academically successful," I say primly.
"I was hoping for something a little more interesting."
I roll my eyes. "I'm not pimping myself out to reward you for your schoolwork," I say firmly.
"Pimping yourself out?" he asks. "I was thinking it would be a mutual reward. You give me an incentive to keep getting good grades, and I reward you by giving you the best orgasm of your life, completely ruining you for future men."
"There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don't even know where to begin," I say, my voice firm. Professional . "You're totally delusional to think that you'd be the best orgasm of my life. Which you won't be, because I'm not going to sleep with you, or let you put your face between my legs, or whatever totally repulsive suggestion you have next."
"Oh, I can guarantee that I'd be the best orgasm of your life, Cassie Rae," he says, leaning forward. The drawl is accentuated now, practically dripping from his words. Why does that drawl make everything he says sound like sex? When he leans forward across the table, I watch his lips as he speaks. He's close enough that if I were to just move a little bit, I could touch my lips to his. But I don't.
And I remind myself that I don't want to. Not at all. Colton King is an arrogant jock. And a player. And my student.
Kissing him would break all the rules.
I clear my throat and force myself to slide back in my seat, purposely putting space between us. Space is exactly what I need.
Space and an ice-cold shower.
Except that even after the session is over, what he says plays on a loop in my brain over and over and over: I can guarantee that I'd be the best orgasm of your life, Cassie Rae.
10
Colton
" H ow the fuck did you land her?" Dillon, a cornerback on the team, catches up with me in the athletic center outside of one of the tutoring rooms. He eyeballs Cassie's retreating figure as she walks toward the exit door, well out of earshot. She's wearing tight jeans and flip-flops and this tank top that skims over her waist and hangs to the top of her ass, but doesn't quite cover it.
Which is why I'm standing here ogling her as she walks, her hips swaying slowly.
I swear that she's the most effortlessly sexy woman I've ever laid eyes on. I don't think she has a clue how hot she is.
It’s been two weeks of tutoring sessions – professional, appropriate tutoring sessions – and I should be congratulated for behaving myself because it’s damn near impossible being in the same room with this girl and not ripping her clothes right off her.
Dillon says something again.
"Huh?" I grunt absently, watching the automatic doors in the lobby open and Cassie disappear outside. I wonder where she's going, if she goes out with friends or goes out on dates.
The thought of her going out on dates makes my jaw clench.
"Her," Dillon says. "How did you land the hot chick as a tutor? I thought the tutors were all ugly as hell. Or nerdy guys."
I shrug. "She's not really that hot," I mutter casually. I don't know why I say it, exactly. It's not true at all. She's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"She's a great lay, isn't she?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snap, turning to look at him. I've never liked Dillon, not since I met him. He's one of those guys who's just a little off, you know? Dead behind the eyes and shit. He might be my teammate, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't put his stupid head through a wall.
He puts his hands up, laughing as he takes a step backward. "Don't be so touchy, man. I was just asking if you hit that yet. Because if she were my tutor, I'd be all over her
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