So Nick gives me a key. No more ringing the doorbell. I'm an official girlfriend now, even if nobody else knows about us.
Every day in class, Nick takes copious notes. I can tell because he keeps typing furiously on his computer. Often, when I arrive at his place after work, I find him poring over those notes. The first time I catch him doing that, I lean over the back of the sofa to see what he's doing, and to skate my palms down his chest.
"You just keep on surprising me," I say, sliding my hands further down until my fingertips bump into the waistband of his slacks. Yeah, he's still wearing his suit without the jacket, the outfit he wore all day. "You've got multi-level lists with bullets and numbers, even highlighted text."
"The highlights are color-coded too."
I grab his laptop and set it on the cushion beside him, then I climb onto his lap—from behind the sofa. "Forget dinner. I need your body, Nick, right now. Your intellectual side gets me so hot."
"What about my businessman side?"
"That's an offshoot of your dedicated-student side."
"I see." He stands up while holding me in his arms. "Your strict teacher side makes me so fucking randy."
"Should we play disobedient student and naughty teacher again?"
"That's my favorite game."
Every new day with Nick makes me happier and more excited for the future—with him.
Do I have a future with Nick? We haven't discussed anything beyond the summer semester, though we both agreed to keep our relationship a secret until he's not my student anymore. Does that mean we'll stay together after that? He lives in England and has a successful business there. Do I want to be with him enough to move to another country for him?
The other day, I mused that I might willingly go anywhere for him.
But I don't get much time to consider the future because I'm too busy with work and Nick.
On a Thursday evening that marks three weeks since Nick breezed into my life with his big feet on my desk, he brings up a subject I don't expect. We're sitting on the sofa in his apartment, curled up together while watching TV.
"My brother's wedding is next Saturday," he says. "Would you, ah, like to go with me?"
"To the wedding?"
"Yes." He squirms and avoids looking at me. "Would you be my date? That means you'll meet my family and my mates."
"Sure, I'd love to go. We'll need to be home Sunday, though, since we both have class on Monday."
"But Monday is July fourth." He smirks. "I understand that's some sort of holiday on this side of the pond, and most people stay home to eat hot dogs and shoot off small explosives. We can come home Monday, can't we?"
"Right. I forgot about that." I push my elbow into his side. "And don't make fun of Independence Day. Like you Brits never shoot off 'small explosives' or glue yourself to your TVs when football matches are on."
"Guilty as charged. I'm an Arsenal fan, after all."
"Which would you rather do? Watch a football game or play dirty teacher with me?"
He scrunches up his face like he's seriously mulling the choices. Then he blows out a melodramatic sigh and squeezes my thigh. "Afraid I'll have to go with Arsenal."
"Oh, I guess you don't want to get lucky tonight, then?"
Nick tickles me until I'm laughing so hard tears are rolling down my cheeks. With me pinned under him, both of us lying lengthwise on the sofa, he suddenly gets a worried look on his face. "Are you sure you want to go home with me?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"My brother and my parents will be polite, but I can't vouch for the Dixons. Reese can be…well, a lot like me, only younger. Dane and Chance are mature and no bloody fun at all."
He grins and winks, which lets me know he's joking. I would've known that anyway. Nick Hunter wouldn't say nasty things about his friends, or about anyone.
Except for the horrible woman who's trying to ruin his career.