Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“What? Don’t look so shocked. He’s a nice guy. And God knows I haven’t had sex in forever.”
“Oh no. Professor West.”
“Well, obviously I’d rather have sex with him. But maybe that’s all it is. Maybe I’m just really sexually frustrated, and my attraction to Caine is only physical.”
“No, Rachel. Professor West.” She motioned to the other side of the bar. “He came for you.”
Unfortunately, I was lost in my little alcohol-marinated brain and not paying attention. I hadn’t even realized she was actually pointing to something…or someone. In fact, I thought we were still having the same conversation.
“He’d better come for me. It may have been almost a year, but I think I still know how to use my vagina.” I paused. “Do you think my vagina is re-virginized from not having sex for so long?”
I brought my drink to my lips and closed my eyes as I tipped my head back to finish it. When I opened them, I thought I was dreaming. In fact, I was certain of it. I blinked a few times to snap myself out of it.
Caine did that stupid sexy lip twitch thing as he stood next to our table. “Still here.”
Ava was a traitor. Caine asked her if he could have a few minutes alone with me, and I’d said no at the same exact time she said yes. She’d shot me a warning look before promptly slipping from our table to make room for Caine.
“What are you doing here?” I scowled.
“Making sure I’m the only man you talk to about coming while you’re in this intoxicated state.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Davis wants me.”
The muscle in Caine’s jaw ticked. “That’s nice. Who’s Davis?”
“My ex. Well…sort of. We had dinner tonight. He wants me back.”
“So that’s what this is about?”
“Well, it’s not about you,” I lied.
“Really? He sat back with an arrogant smirk. “Because it sounded on the phone like it was about me. Well, about Professor Tight Buns anyway.”
There was at least one good thing about alcohol; it kept me from flushing when I should have been embarrassed. In fact, it kept me from even realizing I should have been embarrassed.
“So what? You have a tight ass. That doesn’t make you the be-all and end-all. I have a pretty nice ass myself. Only you’re too much of a jackass to notice it.”
Caine rubbed at his lip with his thumb. “Is that what you think?”
“That you’re a jackass? Yes.”
He leaned forward. “I meant you think I haven’t noticed your pretty nice ass.”
His voice had grown husky, and I felt the guttural sound of it between my legs. I swallowed and shifted in my seat, staring at him. He took it as license to continue speaking when I kept quiet.
“You have a tiny little waist. When you wear jeans, there’s a gap in the back. When you lean over, I can see your G-string. You like to match it with your shirt. Wednesday you wore a blue shirt and had on a baby blue G-string. The day you taught class and were giving out headphones, you bent over nicely to distribute them to each row. It’s why I got up to help you with the boxes. You didn’t think I was being chivalrous, did you? That day, you had on a thin white blouse and a lacy white thong. I really liked the white lace.”
My mouth was hanging open.
Caine leaned in a little closer. “So you’re wrong if you think I haven’t noticed your pretty nice ass. For two reasons: First, it’s not a pretty nice ass. It’s a fucking spectacular ass. And second, I’ve noticed it. Every damn day since you walked out of that bar bathroom. In fact, I watched it sway from side to side until you were out of sight that night—even though you’d just told me off.”
“I had no idea.”
“Clearly.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“What should I have said, Rachel? You’re my teaching assistant, and I’m your thesis advisor. Plus, even if that weren’t the case, I actually like you. You’re not a casual fuck I’d stop calling when I was done with you.”
That was harsh. I didn’t want to think of Caine in that way. But then I remembered the faculty meeting. “Like Professor Pink?”
His brows drew together. “You mean Ginger Ashby? Professor Ashby who was wearing a pink suit today? What about her?”
“You two seemed cozy.”
Caine looked away. “We’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re asking.”
If they weren’t currently sleeping together, I knew they had a history. I could tell by the way she touched him, the way she looked up and batted her fake eyelashes.
“But you did sleep with her?”
“It was a long time ago. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the professor specifically or sleeping with someone at work, in general—not that it mattered.