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“Hey, everything that happens in this room stays in this room, remember?”
“Hey, flirting is harmless. Talking about sex is harmless. You fuck her? You owe Derek a thousand bucks. And you break the promise you made to yourself.”
I remember what Joanna said. Everything that happens in that little room we meet in, stays in that room. Like freaking Las Vegas.
Her gaze barely lifts to meet mine. “Then what are we supposed to do today?” I swallow hard, thinking of all things I’d like to do to her. “I don’t know.”
“Who was that?” His voice is deceptively casual. Why would he even ask? “No one.” “Your ex?” Now he sounds blatantly hostile. “No. Of course not.” He glares and I give in. “It was my friend. Natalie.”
“I like it when you say my name,” he finally admits, his voice low. Gravelly.
“I’m not reading anymore.” His voice is firm, as is his expression. “Why not?” I start to lunge across the table, but Knox stops me, his hands on my shoulders, slowly shoving me back into my seat. “Come on.” I’m whining. He’s still touching me, his hands curved around my upper arms, and he gentles his grip, slowly hauling me closer. “Joanna.”
And then we’re kissing.
OMFGGGGGGG YASSSSSS
He slips one hand under my jaw, angling my head just so, nipping at my lower lip with his teeth. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I walked into the room,” he murmurs, his deep voice making me shiver.
“You said what happens in this room stays in this room, right?” He murmurs the question against my lips, tickling me. “Y-yes.” I didn’t mean it in regard to things like this though…
“You can touch me, you know.” The desperation in his voice is obvious. He’s dying for me to put my hands on him.
This was probably a one-shot deal. No way can we do that again. He might even want to switch tutors, replacing me with someone who’s less distracting to his celibacy plan. “I know you don’t care about football but…you want tickets to this Saturday’s game?”
“You’re really coming to my game?” He actually sounds excited, which is… Cute.
“Why would I do that?” “Because…” I wave a hand between us, “we didn’t get much work done.” His smile turns wicked, and I swear there’s even a naughty gleam in his eye. “I’d beg to differ, Jo Jo. We got plenty of work done.”
Knox Maguire. That’s what’s gotten into me. Well. Not literally. Unfortunately.
The door swings open and Knox Maguire himself enters the bathroom, his expression intense, his eyes sweeping the room before they land on me.
“I need to talk to her.” He inclines his head toward me, his expression serious. “Privately.”
