The hour passes by quickly listening to him talk. The sound of his voice is comforting, a timbre I’ve heard my whole life, only now a bit deeper, his cadence full of authority.
“I’ll write the reading on the board for today, but assignments from the syllabus will always be updated in the virtual discussion section. Feel free to log in with any comments or questions. I’ll see you all here on Wednesday morning.” Weston gathers up his spread papers and stacks them against the desk. He clears his throat and looks at me as the other students file out of the hall, already groaning about the reading.
“I guess you’re home, huh?” Weston says. He cocks one slanted eyebrow at me, and the simple look has me wondering if my panties can make it through another hour of one of his classes—forget a full semester. I stand up in my seat and step over the rows instead of walking out and around to get down to the podium. Weston ever-so-slightly shakes his head and gives me a tisk-tisk. I was always a rowdy kid; I liked taking risks just as much as Asa and West did.
I jump off the last seat until we’re standing toe-to-toe. The energy between the two of us hasn’t abated a bit. Together, we’re still a highly combustible combination. I smile up at Weston, and when he breaks his serious professor air and pulls me into his arms, the emotion is so strong I nearly start crying.
“Christ, I missed you, Crosby,” he mumbles into my hair.
I hug him back fiercely, tightly, savoring his embrace, the strength and familiarity of his arms. I hang on for dear life because my father’s sick, because my brother’s gone on a mission, and I’m all out of whack from being in another country for two years.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper into his chest, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Of course I am.” West’s hand sneaks up my spine to grasp the base of my skull. He pulls me back a bit and kisses my forehead with his eyes closed. He’s probably praying to the gods of Hartford University not to have closed-circuit camera security in the lecture halls. “Walk to my office with me?” He throws an arm over my shoulder casually as we walk up the steps, but it quickly falls to his side as soon as we hit the crowded hallways.
I carry my books and laptop in front of me like a schoolgirl, my backpack slung over one shoulder.
We exchange bits and pieces of information about the last two years, how he’s been helping my parents in my brother’s absence, how he’s taken on as many classes as he can to make extra money. He and Asa came up with a plan to buy out my mom and dad’s business and take it over so Mom can retire and Dad doesn’t have to worry about what will happen after he’s gone.
A few tears slip down my cheeks as we enter his office. It’s so Weston inside, the art, the old books, the ferns in the window. He throws his jacket over the chair and pulls me into another hug.
“I don’t want you to worry about anything. We’ve got this under control. You just take your classes and spend time with them—that’s all anybody wants.” I nod into his chest as he massages the back of my neck. We’ve already crossed the line, but I don’t think there’s any going back. “But, Crosby, you are not taking my class. Not a chance in hell. I’d fail any freshman who tried to get your number.” He’s touching my hairline as a smile plays on my lips.
“I need it to graduate.”
“Like fuck, you do. Find any other English class you can take.”
“I like Elizabethan. I like your suits.” I pout and tug on his tie.
Weston leans back and exhales. I’m close enough to feel his cock twitch in his pants. He loosens said tie and grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger as he stares into my eyes.
“You’ll be the goddamned end of me, kid.” I tilt my head up and blink at him with wet eyes. Weston comes at me slowly, like he cannot resist the pull. His lips, full and firm, crash into mine as a sound of longing leaves his body. He crushes me to him, devouring my mouth. It hurts so good, this grown-up boy in a suit, the man in him finally escaping and claiming what he wants. He takes so much from me in the kiss that I lose my footing in his arms. Weston lifts me up and deposits me on his desk. He uses his arm to clear the piles of books and files that litter the top by shoving them on the floor. I groan as he sets himself between my legs and rubs his gigantic, straining erection against my thigh. His lips continue to take their starved fill of me. I reach up and interlace my fingers behind his neck as he tongues me so deeply, I can neither see or think straight.