Subtlety and patience are the most important parts of my job.
My eyes travel over his body as he stands in front of the screen, pointing to the traits of a good FBI Profiler. When he lifts his arms, his muscles move under that thin, button-down shirt stretched over his broad shoulders.
It’s really hot how smart he is, and today he’s wearing his glasses. I imagine him sliding them off when he sees something he likes… perhaps something he might like to kiss?
“A good profiler can ascertain the level of planning that went into the crime…”
He uses the wordascertainperfectly in a sentence.
“…the degree of control used by the offender, if there was an escalation of emotion at the scene…”
I wonder howcontrolledhe is when he’s fucking. Does he coolly give orders, those intense eyes distant and unreadable? Or do his emotionsescalate?
If I dropped to my knees in front of him, pulling his hard cock between my lips and giving it a firm suck, would he groan with pleasure or pull my hair and hiss words of approval?
Shifting in my seat, I cross my legs, and his eyes move to mine. Our gaze holds for only a moment, but it’s long enough to flood my stomach with heat.
His brow lowers as if he’s annoyed, but he doesn’t miss a beat, continuing his lecture. His control makes me thirsty, and I wonder if he could read from my pouty lips, I was dreaming of blowing his mind.
“Above all, a good profiler must resist racial stereotypes.” No sign he felt anything. “This skill can be useful, but it can also be highly destructive…”
He slides his glasses higher, and I’m barely listening as he gives our reading assignment for the night. Next class we have a writing project due, and I’m so ready to pay him another visit.
The first time laid the groundwork and helped him see me as a sympathetic character. I love that he pushed back when I got too close. I love that he isn’t a sleaze, ready to take advantage of a young girl’s apparent willingness to please him.
Every man is flattered by a woman who obviously wants him, but Dirk is different. It makes me wonder if there could be something more between us. He’s “the enemy,” but only because Natasha is giving the orders.
Shit, where the fuck did that come from? I’m not looking for something more.
I have to stay focused if I’m going to complete this mission and find that book. Once I have the truth about my father, I’m leaving these people far behind. I want a new life, something better than what I’ve had so far. He has his life, and I have my plans. He’s a mark, and when I’m finished, I’ll walk away.
“As always, if you need to see me, no appointment is necessary during office hours.” Still, the low vibration of his voiceisa tempting sound. “Have a great weekend.”
Class ends, and I gather my books. He’ll take his time finishing up, and I need to take my time getting to him. Strolling into the quad to wait, I sit on a bench under a tree watching a couple of guys throwing a frisbee.
“Hey, you got a break between classes?” Ryan drops to sit beside me on the bench, smiling brightly.
“Yeah…” I wrap my cardigan tightly around my body as I study his perfect smile, remembering his odd response when I complimented him on it that first night. “You?”
“Done for the day.” He leans back proudly, and I glance at the clock.
It’s after lunch on a Thursday, and I have a 90-minute class starting at three, not that it matters. I’m only here for one reason.
“Clever guy,” I tease, and he gives me another megawatt grin. I can’t resist anymore. “So what’s the long story?”
“What?” His brow furrows, and he shoves a lock of curly brown hair behind his ear.
“On Welcome Back night, I complimented you on your smile, and you said it was a long story. What’s the long story?”
“Oh.” His chin drops, and he studies the laces on his shoe.
His knee is bent, and I scoot around, bumping his shoulder with mine. “It’s okay, you can tell me. What was it? Car wreck? Teeth never came in like that kid onStranger Things?”
“The kid onStranger Thingshas cleidocranial dysplasia. It’s not that his teeth never came in, more like they take much longer to develop.”
“Okay, okay.” Holding up my hands, I nod. “Clearly, you’re destined to be a dentist. What’s your long story?”
His face flushes, and a prickly heat rises in my neck. I wasn’t trying to embarrass him. He said it was a long story, like he might tell it sometime. Instead, he seems on the verge of tears, which is very uncomfortable.