Chapter 12 12
POV Katherine
I went to the bathroom. I freshened up. I looked at myself in the mirror, a little dazed. I didn’t look like me.
The makeup was still intact, but my eyes gleamed in a way I didn’t remember. I felt strange—slightly euphoric, a little dizzy. My eyes looked more alive, and, definitely, my expression was that of a drunk woman. I didn’t look bad, but I could tell when alcohol had started to do its work. Maybe that’s why I thought I’d seen Elliot here.
When I came back, I turned in the hallway and collided with a body.
“Sorry, I—”
“Mrs. Ellis?”
Oh, God. It couldn’t be.
I froze.
Elliot.
This time, it really was him.
He looked surprised too—dark shirt, top buttons undone, hair slightly tousled. A glass in his hand, a smile I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just part of the game.
Was it real?
My hand touched his chest to check.
Of course it was real.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, without thinking.
“Out with some friends. You?”
“With some friends… I guess I needed a break.”
“Looks like it’s working. You look good. Really good.”
He looked me up and down, unashamed. I felt naked—or powerful. I couldn’t tell which. Maybe both.
“I suppose,” I said, masking my reaction to his words.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m… already well served,” I laughed. “But come on, my friends are over there. Let’s go.”
We went back to the table. I introduced him to my friends. I’d told them before that I was tutoring a young guy, but the surprise on their faces said everything—they must have imagined someone barely out of high school.
“Wow… I wish I were a teacher,” Lucía said.
“It’s a pleasure,” Elliot replied, extending his hand. His tone was confident, almost playful.
“Lucky you,” Marta murmured, bold as ever, shaking his hand with more enthusiasm than necessary.
“He’s just my student,” I clarified before anyone could say something stupid.
Too late.
The drinks kept coming. The music didn’t stop. The jokes got filthier.
And Elliot stayed longer than he should have—had he ditched his friends?
“Can you imagine what he could do with those long hands?” one of them said.
Unbelievable. The conversation had shifted completely to Elliot—to his body. And just like I had the first time, my friends noticed how perversely attractive his hands were.
“I’d invite him to study at my house,” another one blurted, laughing.
Elliot leaned close to my ear and murmured that he was going to fetch his friends. I used the chance to scold them.
“Stop it!” I said, laughing too—I couldn’t even stay serious, no matter how embarrassed I felt.
When his friends showed up, mine got even hornier.
The dirty jokes outnumbered the drinks on the table.
“Leave those boys alone! They’re young enough to be your nephews!”
“That didn’t stop us with the Italians,” Lucía shot back—and they all shouted in chorus.
I hid behind my glass, my cheeks burning. Elliot said nothing. He just watched me—amused, perfectly at ease.
“I think you’re drunk,” he said quietly, leaning toward me.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I lied, though the world was spinning a little faster than usual.
“I’m taking you home.”
“I don’t want to go yet. Don’t be boring.”
I stood abruptly and grabbed his arm. I dragged him to the dance floor.
He didn’t resist.
The music changed—a denser rhythm, slower, closer.
Elliot’s hands found my waist. He pulled me against him. Closer. Too close.
His body aligned with mine. I felt his chest. His thighs. His breath.
And something else.
I tensed.
He was hard.
Was it me? The alcohol? My imagination?
No—it couldn’t be just that. I’d felt it.
I didn’t think. I couldn’t. All I knew was that it was there—solid, undeniable, pressed against me.
I lifted my gaze.
His eyes—olive, with gold flecks under the lights—held mine, heavy with desire and something that… wasn’t entirely right.
I felt his hands slide lower, resting on my ass. I flinched, slightly, but he didn’t move them. His hands stayed there—large, steady, claiming.
He leaned toward my face. I wished the music would stop, but I’d started this. I was the one who’d invited him to dance.
His voice reached me—not whispered in my ear, but close to my lips.
“How does it feel, Mrs. Ellis?”
How did I feel?
His face brushed my neck, and I swear to God I felt his tongue slide up to the back of my ear—the heat of it, his breath against my skin. My body shivered with the rush of excitement his touch ignited.
With his hands still on my ass, he pressed me closer—against the hard length between his legs. His cock.
My legs stopped moving. So did his.
How did I feel?
Like I was sinning. Turned on by my student—a man I could almost be twice the age of.
Dancing in the middle of a packed floor where no one even noticed us—my friends entertained by his friends, and me… entertained by him.
I was ashamed to look at him, but I couldn’t look away.
He was… too damn handsome.
“Take me home,” I whispered, without breaking our stare. “I don’t feel well.”
He helped me back to the table, where I grabbed my purse.
“I’m heading out—Elliot’s taking me home,” I told the girls with a brief goodbye.