Chapter 10

Gavin:

I’m screwed. Well and truly screwed. There’s no denying Sam is into me, not after our little conversation this afternoon. She all but asked me to have sex with her. If she had come out and actually asked me, I’m not entirely sure I would have had the will power to say no. She hasn’t even been living here a full week, and I’m already hard up for her. I spend most of the afternoon trying to wear myself out at the gym. When I’m not training clients, I’m on the machines, trying to burn off some of this pent-up energy. But it doesn’t work. My body is tired, but my brain is still running wild, chasing thoughts of Sam. Sam in my class, Sam in my bathtub. Sam in my damn bed.

Tonight, when I get home, it’s almost midnight, but I’m just as worked up as I was when she left my classroom this afternoon. Except then, I had a raging boner just from picturing myself “tutoring” her. And I was so fucking grateful for that ridiculously huge podium because I didn’t even start to soften until a good ten minutes after class started. Now, just recalling the memory of her perched on the edge of my desk, dressed like pure sex, is enough to make my dick twitch in interest.

The apartment is dark when I walk through the door, and the curtain to Sam’s alcove off the living room is closed. Hopefully, she’s already asleep, and I won’t have to deal with another awkward encounter.

I head straight for the shower just like I do every night. Thank goodness the bathroom door is wide open, so I know there aren’t any surprises inside. Although, the memory of her clothed in nothing but bubbles will probably be burned into my brain for the rest of my life. I head to my room for a change of clothes and my towel, and I’m just on my way back down the hall when she appears at the other end, wearing nothing but a thin, white thigh-length T-shirt, and maybe panties—or super tiny shorts—underneath. Or maybe nothing. I can’t tell, and I’m sure as hell not going to ask. The sight of her there has me sporting a semi in the time it takes me to avert my gaze from those long, tone legs.

“Hi,” she greets me.

“Hi.” I move my bundled-up clothes and towel in front of me to hide the growing tent in my shorts.

“I was just going to brush my teeth. Were you going to take a shower?” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, drawing my attention to her legs once again.

“I am, but I can wait while you do that.” to prove my words, I lean my back against the wall across from the bathroom doorway and effect a casual pose.

She passes me and goes into the bathroom, flips on the light but leaves the door open. “Thanks. I’ll be quick.” She pulls out her toothbrush and toothpaste and proceeds to brush her teeth, bouncing from one foot to the other while she does. When she finishes, she bends over for some sink water to rinse her mouth out, and her shirt rides up revealing bare ass cheeks.

For a second, I think she might not have anything on, but then I catch a glimpse of the tiniest scrap of pink thong panties, and I almost groan out loud. In arousal, in frustration. The two are synonymous in my mind at this point. I clamp my mouth shut just in the nick of time before any sound can escape, and I force myself to look away, partly out of respect for her and partly out of self-preservation so I don’t spontaneously combust.

When she finishes, she graces me with a brilliant smile. “Thanks! Have a good night!” She bounces past me and glides down the hall toward the living room.

As I enter the bathroom and shut the door, I’m left wondering if that little peep show was entirely on accident. Is it possible that she planned it? Deep down inside, if I’m being honest with myself, I kind of hope it was intentional. And part of me kind of hopes she’ll do it again. Despite my good intentions about keeping my hands off her, willpower will only get a man so far, and I’m about at the end mine after just three days. How the hell am I going to make it through the entire semester like this?

Every interaction I have with her, every look, every innocent—or not so innocent—moment brings me closer to saying “to hell with it” and taking her to bed. In my mind, I’ve pictured at least ten different ways I’d like to make love to her, twenty different tricks I’d use to make her call out my name as she shatters in my arms.

Fuck.

By the time I finish undressing, I’m hard as granite. I’m going to have to rub one out again, I realize as I turn on the shower. Once the water is warm enough, I climb in and reach for the body wash. Just soaping up has me halfway to blowing my load. I brace myself with a palm against the shower wall and give my erection a long, slow stroke, shuddering with the pleasure of it. Another stroke, and I’m thrusting into my own fist, picturing Sam’s hand in its place. I begin to pump faster, harder, until I’m so close I couldn’t stop myself from cumming even if I wanted to.

When I orgasm, it’s a wave of ecstasy flowing over me. I thrust helplessly against my fingers, gripping my dick like my life depends on it as I shoot my load over the porcelain tile wall. I press my forehead to the cold tile and shudder. It takes me several minutes to catch my breath and for my dick to start to soften. As the afterglow of my orgasm subsides, shame takes its place. I’m not ashamed of rubbing one out. Hell, I’ve done that millions of times over the course of my life if I’ve done it once. I’m ashamed that I let my attraction to Sam get the best of me. Again.

I’ve jacked off thinking about her too many times in the last three days. I’m surprised my dick hasn’t fallen off, and it’s done nothing to curb how horny I am with her under the same roof. I’m going to just have to start avoiding her. At least until the semester is over and she’s not my student anymore. It’s not crossing a line if she’s just a former student, is it? There are only a few weeks left in the semester. That’s totally doable. I hope.