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My sister sits beside me. I know she always wants to help, but at the same time, she somehow always makes things worse. Mom rolls her eyes and goes back to folding, saying she’s going to listen to her new audiobook.
Sarah scoots closer. “Seriously, one of his hands was under the table all night. Your relationship might be new, but there are times when I miss the heat of ‘new’ and I want all the details.”
“Sarah,” I complain.
“I’m the bride! That means what I say goes,” she insists.
I swallow thickly as my gaze stays fixed on the mess I’m making with the paper. “It’s different, good different. He makes me feel things I always thought I would never experience.” My face heats as the words roll off my tongue.
I give her some hints of what she wants, telling her we’re enjoying things, hinting, but not outright saying anything. It feels too dangerous. As dangerous as origami paper, apparently, because I end up with a serious papercut.
“Oh, you’re going to bleed on everything!” my mom complains loudly.
I stand up and am about to say plenty to her when a hand grabs my own. I glance over and there’s Adrian, holding my hand up. He shakes his head. “I leave you alone for an hour and you ruin your hands. Didn’t you tell me you have an essay due this coming Friday? How are you going to type it with a bleeding finger?”
“I’ll just have to ask my very understanding, favorite professor for an extension,” I sass.
He arches an eyebrow.
“If you say it like that, people will get the wrong idea, dear. You wouldn’t put a professor in that position. It could cost him his job,” Mom chides. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Adain.”
“Adrian,” he corrects without giving her a single glance, too busy looking at my pointed expression.
“I know, Mom. I’d never do anything with a professor. The age difference, how wrong it is, the stakes,” I say evenly. “It would be insane for either person to get involved.”
“Let’s go take care of your finger, Emily,” Adrian nearly bites out.
“It’s just a cut,” I dismiss. “It will be fine in a bit.”
“How sweet. Go on, Emmy,” Sarah says.
“You should at least bandage it. You’ll get blood all over.” Mom huffs and shakes her head.
Adrian walks me to the elevator. The second we get in, I back away from him. “We have this weekend. That’s it. That’s all we get.”
“Emily,” he says softly.
“I’m serious,” I say to his feet, trying to ignore the words I said to my sister. “It’s hot. We do well together in bed, and you’re funny. But your job is important. If I’m the reason you lose it, we’re both fucked and not in the way we like. So after this weekend, I’m your student and nothing more.”
I can’t even look at his shoes and stare at the floor until his hand smooths over my forearm as his other hand lifts my chin. “You say a lot when you’re not looking at me.”
“Because you make being logical difficult.”
“We’ll deal with this on Sunday,” he decides.
My lips open and close, trying to come up with anything else to throw at him, but as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, he takes my hand and leads me to our room.
He takes the keycard from my back pocket and lets us into our room. His eyes focus on me intently, then he points to the bed. “Sit.”
“Adrian, we can’t wait until Sunday. I need everything to be clear now. You can’t keep—”
My words falter as his lips claim mine and he cups my face between his hands. He draws out each kiss until I’m sitting down and murmurs, “Stay, Kitten. Stay right here while I get you a bandage.”
I huff, but obey, calling myself stupid again and again even as he starts wrapping my finger up. I open my mouth to speak, to try and finish the thought he ruined, but he kisses me again.
He keeps it up, getting more and more intense every time I try to speak. When I try for the fifth or sixth time, he groans and kisses me hard, biting my bottom lip and pushing me back. Apparently, my body doesn’t get the memo that this can’t keep happening because I wrap my legs around him and melt into the kiss.
I moan into his mouth as I run my fingers through his hair.
