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From across the room, I took in the way the low cut of the dress, coupled with the way her thick dark hair was piled up, revealed the delicate curve of her neck. The urge to lick, bite, and suck the expanse of soft magnolia skin was so strong that my body hummed with the tension of keeping my feet rooted to the spot.
I examined her perfect profile—the way her delicate nose gave way to the curves of her shapely pink lips. Lips that looked so perfect wrapped around my shaft. I loved the way her generous eyelashes fluttered up and down as she blinked, protecting eyes I couldn’t see, but I could picture them just as well as if I could. Eyes I’d seen in my mind countless times since we’d met.
By the time I got closer to her, my dick was bent almost in two, pushing hard against the stiff fabric of the straight-cut tux pants. The plus side of the cut was that the tent I was pitching wasn’t as obvious as it would have been in looser fit pants. The downside was that if I didn’t free my dick sometime soon, I was in danger of losing half it to lack of blood flow. It was a catch twenty-two, for sure.
Approaching her hadn’t helped the situation. In fact, it had arguably made it worse. As I stalked up behind her, I noted that on her, subtle details that had been invisible to me on other women, stood out in my consciousness like balls on an elephant. The wispy stray tendrils of wavy brown hair that had liberated themselves from her elegant hair style, the tiny mole on her right shoulder... How the fuck was a tiny fleck of pigment putting me in danger of blowing my load in front of a room full of people?
When she turned to face me, there was nothing subtle about the reasons I wanted to tear the gown from her body and fuck her for all to see. In reality, I settled for taking mental photographs to furnish the spank bank for years to come, and acting like the plunging net-covered neckline wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
The combination of demure and sexy hit all the right notes with me, and, I was sure, a bunch of other guys in the room. It revealed enough to give a real sense of what she was working with, while leaving enough to the imagination to create anticipation for what was to come.
I was able to keep my cool though, and play down my awe at her appearance in order to continue our ongoing battle of wills. Honey didn’t manage to play it similarly cool, and apart from the color rising in her cheeks—which was another of her quirks that hit me in the feels—she looked like a fish out of water as she took in my appearance. In fairness to her, I was forewarned about her presence, and she was playing blind. Also, I looked fine as fuck in that suit, so there was that.
Speaking of anticipation, upstairs in the room we always had at our disposal at Trinity Hall for Cygnus business, the five minutes I waited for Honey felt like the longest of my life. As I watched the hands tick around the face of my dress watch, each second seemed like an eternity. I knew she’d come, that wasn’t the issue—she could no more ignore our hectic chemistry than I could. The question was when, not if. I just needed to cool my jets. It was five minutes, not five years.
The office on the first floor was one of the perks of our fearless leader’s estranged father’s uber-donor status. People who threw enough money at the college to have buildings named after them received all manner of favors in kind, and although Xavier wouldn’t cross the street to pee on his father if he was on fire, he wasn’t above using some of the trappings that came with holding the Cross name.
Ironically though, it was his mother’s name that had afforded him Alpha Cygni status—the leader of Cygnus Dei—as the organization had been started by his maternal great, great something or other. As I pondered Xavier’s pedigree lineage, there was a knock on the door, and I congratulated myself on my ability to distract myself from the obvious—if only for a few moments—before Honey joined me.
When she entered the room, I took my time turning the reclining desk chair until I faced the door as she walked toward me. I’d made no secret of the fact—even to those from whom I’d attempted to keep it secret—that on a normal day, when she was likely to be dressed in jeans, an oversized plaid shirt or a hoodie, and shabby Converse, I found her as hot as all get out.
Today though, was something different entirely. With her hair, which was normally slung in a messy ponytail or bun, now groomed and arranged in a complicated updo, and her face, normally scrubbed clean, now sporting a full face of makeup, Honey looked like a supermodel.
All the more so, because I could now clearly see her startling hazel eyes, as she wasn’t wearing the glasses I’d seen her in more often than not. I was a fan of her glasses—they were part of her studiously sexy look—but it was also great to get the benefit of seeing her entire face this way. Beautiful didn’t even begin to cut it.
More than her looks, though, what I really noticed as she crossed the room was her swag. In the few moments we’d been apart, she’d managed to compose herself, and seemed a lot more confident than she had been when I’d spoken with her.
This was the woman who quite often seemed to be trying to recede into the background—maybe partially an occupational hazard for a journalist, but I suspected it had more to do with her discomfort at being in the limelight.
As she strutted toward me on her sky-high heels, her form-fitting dress swishing around her ankles, I saw none of that shyness or hiding, and I loved the display of confidence. She was going to need it tonight.
Watching her intently, I reclined in the oversized, plush leather chair, then placed my feet, crossed at the ankles, on the mammoth antique wooden desk.
She rounded the desk, and sat on the edge facing me, her gaze moving from my loafered feet to my eyes.
“Why am I here, Bear?”
“Well, when a man and woman are extremely attracted to each other—” I put on a tongue-in-cheek preschool teacher voice.
“Don’t be an asshole. I mean, don’t be more of an asshole than normal. You know what I’m asking.”
“Yeah, I do.” I raised my hands, and put them behind my head, reclining the chair even further as I did so, and never breaking eye contact with Honey.
“You’re here because I’ve never, and I mean truly never, wanted a woman as much as I want you right now. My dick is so hard it could slice through granite, and if I don’t get inside you, asap, I’m in danger of losing my fucking mind, and that’s the truth.”
She looked at me, unflinching and unwavering. She’d definitely used the five minutes between me coming up here and her following me to regain her composure following our first encounter of the night. She was almost like a different woman. Equally as sexy as the shyer, flustered version downstairs, but way more in control of herself and the situation.
“Well, as much as I appreciate your candor...” She let her gaze drift pointedly toward my crotch, then back to my eyes, “...that’s not what I meant, either. I was referring to the reception. Why am I here?”
“I’m guessing by the fact that you haven’t been unceremoniously ejected, that you, like me, were invited.”
“Well that much is obvious to anyone with even half a braincell. What I’m getting at is why?”
“You’ll have to take that up with the Dean, as, like everyone else here, I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“That’s also a given, but my question is why do I feel like you and your band of merry men had something to do with that?” She was nothing if not astute. Despite my criticism of her working methods—designed more to piss her off than anything—I had no doubt that she would make a great journalist, and in fact, was already one.
“I can’t speak for your suspicions, or how your mind works, so I’ll leave you to ponder your own psychology, but I will say that you shouldn’t let imposter syndrome get to you. You deserve to be here as much as the next person, and I hope you’re taking full advantage of the opportunity, and not allowing doubt to dictate your actions.” A look of consternation flashed across her face, but then was quickly gone again. “What I do know is that I didn’t ask you up here to play Twenty Questions, or act out my Dr. Phil fantasies. I’m fast losing patience, so I suggest you wrap it up. Stat.”
