I pull away as fast as my lips captured hers. What the hell did I just do? I just kissed my daughter’s teacher. And what’s worse, I more than liked it. Everything about the kiss felt so delicious, so familiar. Like our mouths have known each other forever. She melted right into me, willingly, and I could tell from her sexy sounds and breathing she felt everything I did. I wanted more of her in the worst way, so badly an erection strained against my jeans as my tongue tangled with hers. I’m still hard as a rock. Make that steel.
Catching my breath, I drop my hands from her face and stare at her. She looks shell-shocked. Her porcelain skin flushed, her kissable lips still parted, her misty eyes frozen wide. Her breathing, harsh like mine, her perfect breasts quivering with each labored breath. Her eyes stay fixed on me, finally blinking. As if she’s trying to make sense of what just happened.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out. But to be blatantly honest, I want my lips back on hers, her body in my arms so badly I can scream. Between my legs, my cock is throbbing. Aching for more of her.
Silently registering my two lame words, she continues to breathe hard. The rest of her is paralyzed. I’ve probably given her some kind of anxiety attack. Her glistening lips start to tremble, but words don’t form. A panic button goes off inside me.
“Are you okay?” My heart races as I anxiously await her response.
Finally, after a few seconds, she nods. And one word is whispered. “Yes.”
“Scarlet, please forgive me.”
Sliding my legs off the coffee table, I hastily fold my arms over my lap to cover up my erection.
“I didn’t mean to assault—”
She cuts me off, her face softening. “You didn’t. You kissed me. And I let you.”
At her tenderly spoken words, relief washes over me. Her words reconfirm what I felt. She wanted my lips on hers. She could have fought me off, but she didn’t. She let me deepen the kiss with my tongue, hold her face in my hands.
Despite my relief, I falter again for an excuse. “Honestly, I don’t know what got into me. It was totally impulsive.”
“Yes, it was impulsive.”
“I got carried away.”
Her eyes drop to the coffee table, landing on our empty bottle of Merlot and depleted glasses. Then, they wander to my crotch. Her brows lift ever so slightly, suggesting she knows what I’m hiding. I cringe with embarrassment before she snaps her head up.
“It must have been the wine.”
“Yeah, for sure the wine.”
She quirks a half-smile. “It was really good.”
“I can open another bottle if you want more.” Almost instantly, I regret my offer. And my double entendre. I’m asking for trouble. I’m already drunk enough with lust for this woman. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m engaged. She works for me. With my kid! She’s totally off limits.
Fortunately, she declines my offer. The smile on her face fades and is replaced by a sober expression. Her voice grows quiet and serious, and under it, I can detect uncertainty and a hint of regret.
“Finn, I’m going to call it a night.”
I remain silent as she rises from the sofa. I study her face; she looks to be verging on tears again. Unsteady, she sucks in a breath like she needs to fortify herself.
“Finn, let’s forget this ever happened.”
And with that she stumbles away, leaving me bereft and confused.
Slouching against the couch, I throw back my head and blow out a hot breath. It does nothing to clear the fog in my head or the tension between my legs. The throb in my cock, the ache in my balls.
Let’s forget this ever happened.
Easier said than done. I can’t stop thinking about her.
As the flaming logs in the fireplace crackle, I relive that kiss, that incredible kiss, and seek the relief I crave.