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I squirmed in his grasp. “Because you would be near me all day. I wouldn’t get a thing done.”
“You would love it. I could lick you until you begged me to stop.”
My body heated, and I tried to unwind myself from his arms. “Enough. I need to shower, and you need to drive me home.”
“Am I making you hot? Do you want me to join you?”
“Absolutely not. If we shower together, I’ll be to work late.”
I slipped out of his grasp and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind me so he wouldn’t make me late. Austin was dressed in a pair of slacks and a sweater when I came out; his hair damp from a shower.
I raised my eyebrows. “You showered?”
“I have six bathrooms. I don’t need this one and since you chose to lock me out…”
I smirked. “I’ll make it up to you. Why are you wearing a sweater?”
“It’s chilly. I knew we wouldn’t have those nice warm temperatures forever.”
It was the end of January, and sometimes Los Angeles had a warm snap, but usually, we barely reached the low seventies. I got dressed in the black business suit I brought with me and buttoned my white blouse up to the neck.
Austin scowled. “Why do you do that?”
“My cleavage is a distraction.”
He crossed his arms. “To who?”
“It’s better I don’t reveal anything. You can’t imagine the assholes that I encounter. You would think they were the CEO.”
“I thought your reputation preceded you?”
I checked myself in the dresser mirror. “It normally does, but sometimes I meet some dickhead scriptwriter or hotshot producer who thinks I can be charmed. I want their eyes on my face, not my breasts.”
Austin came to me, stroking my long sleek hair with his hand. “I wouldn’t be able to talk if I sat opposite your gorgeous face.”
“You seemed to do just fine when we first met.”
“That’s because I sat in front of the mirror for two hours saying hello to myself.”
I gaped at his reflection. “You did not.”
“I did. You had me tongue tied, and that’s hard to do.”
“I’ll bet. How many young women cream their panties from your handsome face?”
Austin pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not interested in any of my students.”
“But I’m sure they don’t know that.”
He raised his voice an octave. “I’m at USC to teach.”
“You’re going to tell me that no young woman over the years has tried to charm you?”
“They’ve tried, but I keep it strictly professional. My door stays open during office hours, and I limit my contact with female students outside of class.”
I turned to him. “Have you ever been accused of wrongdoing?”
He wound my hair around his finger. “No, but a professor friend of mine was when he lived in Boston.”
